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Friday 25 May 2018

Think About It 037: THICH NHAT HANH


If you pour a handful of salt into a cup of water, the water becomes undrinkable.  But if you pour the salt into a river, people can continue to draw the water to cook, wash and drink.  The river is immense, and it has the capacity to receive, embrace and transform.  When our hearts are small, our understanding and compassion are limited, and we suffer.  We can’t accept or tolerate others and their shortcomings, and we demand that they change.  But when our hearts expand, these same things don’t make us suffer anymore.  We have a lot of understanding and compassion and can embrace others.  We accept others as they are, and then they have a chance to transform.

How To Love (2014)


 

Use the link below to read about the life and work of Vietnamese monk and peace activist THICH NHAT HANH:

 

https://plumvillage.org/about/thich-nhat-hanh/

 

 

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Think About It 031: DON MIGUEL RUIZ

 
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Think About It 006: MARCUS AURELIUS

Friday 18 May 2018

The Write Advice 108: JOHN LE CARRÉ


I have two, three really good creative hours.  I mean, if you were an athlete you wouldn’t really have more than two or three good hours in the day, but the rest of the day is… work that prepares your body for the same two to three hours…
      Writing is the same.  Part of this semi-athletic process is to keep the brain on edge, to keep the conflict going inside you, to be able to use all the possibilities of your own character.

Quoted in John LeCarré (1999), a TV documentary directed by MARC JAPPAIN


 

Use the link below to visit the website of British espionage novelist JOHN LE CARRÉ:

 

https://johnlecarre.com/

 

 

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The Write Advice 008: BRIAN MOORE

 
The Write Advice 018: KEITH RIDGWAY

 
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Friday 11 May 2018

Poet of the Month 047: DEREK WALCOTT


DEREK WALCOTT
1930 – 2017







BLUES



Those five or six young guys
lunched on the stoop
that oven-hot summer night
whistled me over.  Nice
and friendly.  So, I stop.
MacDougal or Christopher
Street in chains of light.

 

A summer festival.  Or some
saint's.  I wasn't too far from
home, but not too bright
for a nigger, and not too dark.
I figured we were all
one, wop, nigger, jew,
besides, this wasn't Central Park.
I'm coming on too strong?  You figure
right!  They beat this yellow nigger
black and blue.

 

Yeah.  During all this, scared
on case one used a knife,
I hung my olive-green, just-bought
sports coat on a fire plug.
I did nothing.  They fought
each other, really.  Life
gives them a few kicks,
that's all.  The spades, the spicks.

 

My face smashed in, my bloody mug
pouring, my olive-branch jacket saved
from cuts and tears,
I crawled four flights upstairs.
Sprawled in the gutter, I
remember a few watchers waved
loudly, and one kid's mother shouting
like 'Jackie' or 'Terry,'
'now that's enough!'
It's nothing really.
They don't get enough love.

 

You know they wouldn't kill
you.  Just playing rough,
like young Americans will.
Still it taught me something
about love.  If it's so tough,
forget it. 

 

 

 

date unspecified






 

 

 

The following biographical statement appears on The Poetry Foundation website.  [It is re-posted here for information purposes only and, like the poem re-posted above, remains its author's exclusive copyright-protected intellectual property.]

 

Born on the island of Saint Lucia, a former British colony in the West Indies, poet and playwright Derek Walcott was trained as a painter but turned to writing as a young man. He published his first poem in the local newspaper at the age of 14.  Five years later, he borrowed $200 to print his first collection, 25 Poems, which he distributed on street corners.  Walcott’s major breakthrough came with the collection In a Green Night: Poems 1948-1960 (1962), a book which celebrates the Caribbean and its history as well as investigates the scars of colonialism and post-colonialism. Throughout a long and distinguished career, Walcott returned to those same themes of language, power, and place. His later collections include Tiepolo’s Hound (2000), The Prodigal (2004), Selected Poems (2007), White Egrets (2010), and Morning, Paramin (2016). In 1992, Walcott won the Nobel Prize in Literature. The Nobel committee described his work as 'a poetic oeuvre of great luminosity, sustained by a historical vision, the outcome of a multicultural commitment.' 

 

Since the 1950s Walcott divided his time between Boston, New York, and Saint Lucia. His work resonates with Western canon and Island influences, sometimes even shifting between Caribbean patois and English, and often addressing his English and West Indian ancestry. According to Los Angeles Times Book Review contributor Arthur Vogelsang, 'These continuing polarities shoot an electricity to each other which is questioning and beautiful and which helps form a vision altogether Caribbean and international, personal (him to you, you to him), independent, and essential for readers of contemporary literature on all the continents.'  Known for his technical control, erudition, and large canvases, Walcott was, according to poet and critic Sean O’Brien, 'one of the handful of poets currently at work in English who are capable of making a convincing attempt to write an epic… His work is conceived on an oceanic scale and one of its fundamental concerns is to give an account of the simultaneous unity and division created by the ocean and by human dealings with it.'  

 

Many readers and critics point to Omeros (1990), an epic poem reimagining the Trojan War as a Caribbean fishermen’s fight, as Walcott’s major achievement. The book is 'an effort to touch every aspect of Caribbean experience,' according to O’Brien who also described it as an ars poetica, concerned 'with art itself — its meaning and importance and the nature of an artistic vocation.'  In reviewing Walcott’s Selected Poems (2007), poet Glyn Maxwell ascribes Walcott’s power as a poet not so much to his themes as to his ear: 'The verse is constantly trembling with a sense of the body in time, the self slung across metre, whether metre is steps, or nights, or breath, whether lines are days, or years, or tides.' 

 

 

Walcott was also a renowned playwright. In 1971 he won an Obie Award for his play Dream on Monkey Mountain, which the New Yorker described as 'a poem in dramatic form.' Walcott’s plays generally treat aspects of the West Indian experience, often dealing with the socio-political and epistemological implications of post-colonialism and drawing upon various forms such as the fable, allegory, folk, and morality play.  With his twin brother, he co-founded the Trinidad Theater Workshop in 1950; in 1981, while teaching at Boston University, he founded the Boston Playwrights’ Theatre. He also taught at Columbia University, Yale University, Rutgers University, and Essex University in England.

 

 

In addition to his Nobel Prize, Walcott’s honors included a MacArthur Foundation 'genius' award, a Royal Society of Literature Award, and, in 1988, the Queen’s Medal for Poetry. He was an honorary member of the American Academy and Institute of Arts and Letters.  He died in 2017.


 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read more poems by Caribbean poet and playwright DEREK WALCOTT:

 

 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/derek-walcott

 

 

 

 

 

 

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