Tuesday, June 18, 2013


9 is an epiphany, the energy entering the bottom tip, traveling up the stem and circulating in the crown.  An epiphany cannot be taken away. 

I carried 9 adzuki beans with me for a day, talking to them one at a time, then as a group, then holding them to my ear with eyes closed.  Hearing 9 uncertainties, 9 calls to ration sadness.  They slept through
the night with rose quartz in a jar of warm water.  When I planted them I held them one at a time under the dirt, my eyes closed, tuning to a steady humming under ground where bean pulses waken.  Notes, notes, I took many notes all the while for the poem.  When they sprouted I held them in my mouth one at a time.  I sealed my ears with plugs so the only sound I heard was my teeth chewing adzuki thoughts to become myself.  9 thoughts for 9 requests for equilibrium, then more notes for the poem were taken.