{"id":6022,"date":"2018-02-28T09:52:56","date_gmt":"2018-02-28T16:52:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/?p=6022"},"modified":"2018-02-28T09:52:56","modified_gmt":"2018-02-28T16:52:56","slug":"yuan-mei-climbing-the-mountain","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/2018\/02\/28\/yuan-mei-climbing-the-mountain\/","title":{"rendered":"Yuan Mei – Climbing the Mountain"},"content":{"rendered":"

Climbing the Mountain
\nby Yuan Mei<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n

English version by J. P. Seaton<\/font><\/p>\n

I burned incense, swept the earth, and waited
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 for a poem to come\u2026<\/p>\n

Then I laughed, and climbed the mountain,
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 leaning on my staff.<\/p>\n

How I\u2019d love to be a master
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 of the blue sky\u2019s art:<\/p>\n

see how many sprigs of snow-white cloud
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 he\u2019s brushed in so far today.<\/em><\/p>\n

<\/a> \u2014 from I Don\u2019t Bow to Buddhas: Selected Poems of Yuan Mei<\/a>, Translated by J. P. Seaton<\/font><\/p>\n


\/ Image by serenity-temptations<\/a> \/<\/em><\/font><\/p>\n

I burned incense, swept the earth, and waited
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 for a poem to come\u2026<\/i><\/p>\n

I think any artist can relate to this opening line. We have our rituals, half prayerful, half desperate, seeking to draw forth that intangible spark of inspiration. <\/p>\n

And what is it we seek really? One more poem, one more compelling scene for our novel in progress, a new variation on a classic melody, just the right angle for our subject in charcoal? While important, those are details, not the art itself, not that intangible something we are really fishing for in the quiet tense moments before creation.<\/p>\n

What we\u2019re really seeking is a feeling, a sense of budding life and purpose behind the technique of our creation. It is not craft we seek, but the unnamed animating spirit that will bless our craft, bring it to life, and awaken something in everyone touched by this new creation.<\/p>\n

But art itself can be a trap. At its best, it is a magical act, a shamanic endeavor that transforms and heals society, bringing forth new possibilities within the human spirit. But art can also be a bellows for the ego, a way to reinforce one\u2019s self-importance and place in the world. Too often art starts to point back to the artist\u2019s own face.<\/p>\n

Then I laughed, and climbed the mountain,
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 leaning on my staff.<\/i><\/p>\n

In such moments, perhaps it is best to step back from the busy work of one more creation and remember to widen our scope in order to restore perspective. Any human act of creation, no matter how filled with life and magic, can never match the artistry writ large in the world all around us. <\/p>\n

How I\u2019d love to be a master
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 of the blue sky\u2019s art:<\/i><\/p>\n

If we only recognize that spark when captured by a human hand, we have lost a vital connection to the greater reality. <\/p>\n

We must regularly return to the pool of wonder itself, found most naturally where the human being is incidental. We must remember to recognize the real art everywhere present, unsigned, just the artist\u2019s hidden smile.<\/p>\n

That is where the real communication is happening. Where you and I are not the authors, but stand instead as quiet witnesses, that is where the most profound transformation occurs. That is the real magical encounter.<\/p>\n

see how many sprigs of snow-white cloud
\n\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 he\u2019s brushed in so far today.<\/i><\/p>\n

Restored, we then return to our own actions and creations as a modest reflection of the great artist\u2019s work. Our work in the world becomes a form of participation rather than self-aggrandizement.<\/p>\n


\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/a>Recommended Books: Yuan Mei<\/font><\/b><\/p>\n\n

<\/p>\n

\n\n\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

<\/center>
\n<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/a><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
The Poetry of Zen: (Shambhala Library)<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nA Drifting Boat: Chinese Zen Poetry<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nI Don\u2019t Bow to Buddhas: Selected Poems of Yuan Mei<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nYuan Mei: Eighteenth Century Chinese Poet<\/a><\/small><\/td>\nCensored by Confucius: Ghost Stories of Yuan Mei<\/a><\/small><\/td>\n<\/tr>\n
\n\n
\n\"Yuan<\/a>\n<\/td>\n\nYuan Mei<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

China (1716 \u2013 1798) Timeline<\/a>
\nBuddhist<\/a> : Zen \/ Chan<\/a>
\nTaoist<\/a><\/a><\/em>\n<\/td>\n

<\/td>\n<\/tr>\n<\/table>\n

<\/p>\n

Yuan Mei was born in Hangchow, Chekiang during the Qing dynasty. As a boy, he was a talented student who earned his basic degree at the age of eleven. He received the highest academic degree at 23 and then went on to advanced studies. But Yuan Mei failed in his studies of the Manchu language, which limited his future government career.<\/p>\n

Like many of the great Chinese poets, Yuan Mei exhibited many talents, working as a government official, teacher, writer, and painter.<\/p>\n

He eventually left public office and retired with his family to a private estate named \u201cThe Garden of Contentment.\u201d In addition to teaching, he made a generous living writing funerary inscriptions. Among other things, he also collected local ghost stories and published them. And he was an advocate of women\u2019s education.<\/p>\n

He traveled quite a bit and soon gained the reputation as the pre-eminent poet of his time. His poetry is deeply engaged with Chan (Zen) and Taoist themes of presence, meditation, and the natural world. As biographer Arthur Whaley notes, Yuan Mei\u2019s poetry \u201ceven at its lightest always had an undertone of deep feeling and at its saddest may at any moment light a sudden spark of fun.\u201d<\/p>\n

More poetry by Yuan Mei<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Climbing the Mountain by Yuan Mei English version by J. P. Seaton I burned incense, swept the earth, and waited \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 for a poem to come\u2026 Then I laughed, and climbed the mountain, \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 leaning on my staff. How I\u2019d love to be a master \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 of the blue […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[1447,112,504,505,841],"class_list":["post-6022","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-art","tag-chinese-poetry","tag-creativity","tag-inspiration","tag-yuan-mei"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6022","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6022"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6022\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6023,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6022\/revisions\/6023"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6022"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6022"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.poetry-chaikhana.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6022"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}