an old writer and his words

  • CENTER SEAT

    My friends have often wondered aloudwhy I claim to be most creative whenI am stuck on an airplane for hours. I have told them that the solitude,the lack of It is an interesting quirkof the internet, that birthand death are disconnected. Seeking out those born todayI found a long list, the dinosauramong which is Judy…

    Lou Faber

  • FREEZE FRAME

    When you see a photograph of a dropof water hitting a still pond, you realizethat it is nothing at all like what you see. The photo freezes time, and that is whywe are so taken, for we want nothing morethan to slow or stop that unerring arrow for we know all too well where its…

    Lou Faber

  • Joshu’s Oak 無門關 三十七

    Look out of the windowthe garden is barrenof oaks, nor is thisa Temple in China. If you listen carefullya thousand branchesbend quietly in the wind,a simple wave washingoak leaves ontoexpectant soil. A reflection on case 37 of the Mumonkan (Gateless Gate)

    Lou Faber

  • DEARLY DEPARTED

    I saw a deceased palmetto bugthis morning in the rest roomof our favorite coffee shop . It is the first we’ve seenin four winters here in Florida,and we didn’t mourn its passing. Forty-six years ago, duringa previous Florida life, my catwould find numerous palmettos, which she found made great toysto dribble across the terazzo floorsof…

    Lou Faber

  • PARENTHOOD

    Two headstonesName, rank, branchof service, dates. One New Jersey, oneVirginia, both Bittleneither certain. An email fromanother Bittle, neverknew my father but his wasWilliam, and inthat moment, James Owen becamea father yet againand I complete. And later stilla single picturehe in the back row and the mirroragrees that weare truly family.

    Lou Faber

  • ENSO WHAT

    Today I again took up the brush,carefully mixed the sumi-e inkand with hand poised over a sheetof anticipating rice paper waited, knowing that the moment for a strokewas imminent but not yet at hand,and I dare not force it for brushpainting is a practice that cannot be compelled, a gentle mergerof idea, brush, ink and…

    Lou Faber

  • UNCLE

    My uncle writes his journalin cramped Yiddish, Englishwill not do, it lacks the wordshe says, to describe his world. He describes the flavorof the capon left to stewon the stove, the sweet tasteof carrots and prunes. He carefully notes the thumbof the butcher sliding ontothe back of the scale, applyingjust a dollar of pressure. He…

    Lou Faber

  • NOT SLEEPING NOW

    The kid is late again today, but thatis sadly not unusual, the old man said.I ought to get rid of him, but I knowhe needs the job to feed his family. In the meanwhile, I’ll now haveto hobble down to the meadowand hope my collie, who’s as old as I,is up to the job of…

    Lou Faber

  • TICK TICK TICK

    He awoke this morning to discover his mortality. This was a concept he had never beforeconsidered, it had never crossed his mind. He had never been to a funeral, came froma small family, an only child, his parents and grandparents still living, not that heever saw them, he valued his solitude. But this morning, while…

    Lou Faber

  • Fuketsu’s Speech and Silence 無門關 二十四

    Inward but not outwarda broken stick Outward but no inwarda broken stick A partridge singsin silenceflowers bloomat midnight Fuketsu smiles knowingly. A reflection on case 24 of the Mumonkan (Gateless Gate)

    Lou Faber