an old writer and his words

  • UNSHOVELING

    There is much to love here,not the least of which is the lackof snow always needing to be shoveledwhen your back is most sore,when you need to be somewhereon a schedule the clouds chose to ignore.But the one thing you cannot find,the thing you never expectedto be that which you most missis the polychromatic season.For…

    Lou Faber

  • UMMON’S SOUNDS AND SHAPES

    What is the soundof enlightenment?What is the colorof nirvana?How do youperceive enlightenmentand see nirvana?A sound maybring enlightenmentif you do not hear it,a color may leadyou to nirvanaif you do not see it. A reflection on Case 82 of the Book of Equanimity, Shoyoroku 従容錄

    Lou Faber

  • WHAT ONCE WAS

    It will never again be the same,the world we knew has grownashen, washed of color, our visionmonochromatic, our ears deaf.We have engineered this in our blindness,unable to see the corrosion wehave loosed, we are Pandora, welet free the lid of the box, our greedmet by the ghosts of those wehave condemned, those yetto be born,…

    Lou Faber

  • LEAVING

    They don’t do that here,the leaves do not demand to be seenonly in their chosen seasonsand their palette is self-limited.There is no budding in spring,no malus or prunus throwing offwild cascades of white and pinkpainting the ground around them.There is no riot of coloras summer retreats and winterplans its eventual arrival,blazing reds and oranges,yellow, ochers…

    Lou Faber

  • JAILER

    The purpose of a photograph is simplyto capture a memory, to imprison itmore accurately, to allow it to bewhere you can always find it. Never mind that any prisonergrows prematurely old, losesvitality, slips down a slope thatinevitably result in death . Often, the photo will fade, losecolor as the event slips intothe fog of time,…

    Lou Faber

  • COLOURS

    We hunted him as a stagacross his fields, trophywe called him red man,color of Ares, godssacrificed on our altar,his rivers run with his spirit.I am whitebereft of color,barren, a glarea desert stripped of life.It is I who wearCain’s mark, pluckedfrom the gardenthe sweet taste fadesmy lips are dry.You are blackan amalgam, greenof the grasses in…

    Lou Faber

  • DESIGN?

    I still have grave doubtsabout designers in general, clothinghouses in more particular, and above all furniture. You have to ask if the personwho designed this chairwas somehow incapable of sitting,or simply wanted somethingthat looked artistic, to hellwith the comfort of its occupant. And some designers take thisto extremes, hoping perhapsfor some measure of eternal recognition.Take…

    Lou Faber

  • OF THE SEASONS

    In the heart of winter, then,which seemed unendingI would stare out at the maplesbarren branches piledin ever tottering snowand dream of palm treesand a warm ocean breeze. In heart of winter now,such as it is, all I seeare endless palms andmany Southern Live Oaks,their branches piledunder a heavy burdenof sagging Spanish Mossand I dream of…

    Lou Faber

  • DEAR ERASMUS, DIE

    Today we welcome the rain, hopethat the wheaty winter lawn willshow some other color under its care. The birds ignore the clouds,accept the rain, care little howour lawn looks, their next mealof always greater importance. I am losing the vision in one eye,know I may soon be kingof the country of the blind,and sadly curse…

    Lou Faber

  • SUIBI’S MEANING

    If you ask how can one find the wayI will take youinto the gardento look at the roses.Each rose isof a different sizeand color, but whichis of the right sizeand which the right shade? A reflection on Case 71 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)

    Lou Faber