Jerry Katz
photography & writings

The wind carves shapes into the beach sand

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Highlights #982

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Thursday, February 21, 2002


Sri Garlicji

> A much quoted analogy is that of the jar,
> its space being the same as space containing the jar.
> What is overlooked, is that neither the jar, nor it's 'inner space,
> nor the 'outer' space does babble :)
> Hence swami Sivananda's remark, the smell of garlic emanating
> from a jar even remains after thorough cleansing.
> Jan

Now thinking of Jan as Green Veggie Buddha. Woke up at five feeling very
sad for little seedlings crawling along in the dirt looking for light in
places where it is not to be found. How amazing is the life force! And poor
garlic! Garlics all around the world fussing over their smell and
attempting to turn themselves into roses. It is the nature of garlic to be
garlic-hhhhmmmm, love that pungent aroma, the zip it gives to cooking. To
say nothing of warding off this and does not seem to mind
garlic with its pungeant presence. Quite the contrary. There is space in
garlic and garlic in space. Seems to work with lovely reciprocity.

Im now working on space jar dialogueing with garlic. But its not garlic that
dresses up in anything, sits on throne and plays the flute ands says "you
down there this" and "you down there that". Just ordinary zippy, smelly,
lively allium sativum. Pressed and squeezed and always loved.



What to Do?
(from Harsha Satsangh)

I don't remember who once said "reality is what doesn't go away
when you stop
believing in it."


Gloria Lee sent Hafiz


Today love has completely gutted me.
I am lying in the market like a
Filleted grouper,

Every desire and sinew absolutely silent
But I am still so fresh.

Everything is now the same to me.

The touch of a beautiful woman
As she lifts me near,
Drawing my scent into her body;
She thinks about taking me home.

The touch of a wondrous fly
Drinking my vital fluids
Through a strange shaped flute,

The sun laying its radiant gaze against my cheek,
Human voices and the breeze from a passing
Horse’s tail,

All send miraculous currents into
My world.

God’s beauty has split me wide open.
Throw Hafiz on a scale,
Wrap me in cloth,
Bring me home.

Lift a piece of my knowledge to your lips
So I can melt inside of you
And sing.

(“The Gift” – versions of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)

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Jerry Katz
photography & writings

The wind carves shapes into the beach sand

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