I keep stumbling upon and on this poem by Chase Twichell in the 8 months since I first read it. It is quite koan-like in its ability to shock you. Most poems lull you into a groove, but just as you get into the groove of the first stanza, it seemingly skips into another track.

I say seemingly because it might be like a Picasso attempting to illuminate multiple perspectives of the same subject in one composition. Of course, this really could just be three separate poems tied together with a similar vein… can you guess which word in the title goes with which sub-poem?

Regardless, there is plenty of thoughts to go with the plenty of images. I especially like the “lightbulb-white beach” that sears those who fall asleep on it, but enlightens those who leave it from the breakers. We swim out into zazen expecting to be enlightened by it, and are often surprised to find ourselves struggling against opaque walls. Illumination comes from looking back to where we were.

Hrm. Looking back. Returning to where we were… returning to what we already were… and yet, returning as something new. That theme is obviously echoed in the last image of “becoming a tree,” but is hinted in the middle stanza as well.

Is our practice really like hibernation? I guess it appears that way on the outside to my daughter who discovers me in a dimmed room. However, it certainly doesn’t feel that way on the inside. I often feel like I’m participating in a sort of mental gymnastic competition where the only other contestants are me.

Ok, this time, we’ll get to 11 without thinking… ready… set… go!

But one thing is clear, the side effect of our practice is a more relaxed, more enjoyed experience of the present. Or is that the goal?