Showing posts with label Kate Sanborn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kate Sanborn. Show all posts

Friday, March 14, 2014

IN A SPACE





Watching Jane circle the rink for an hour, punctuating the circuits with jumps, spins and loops, it's not only her athleticism and grace that amaze me, but also the fact that she seems, rationally and intelligently, to be navigating in and through infinite space according to coordinates that she can see and I can’t.

I, on the other hand, charge into corners and walk into walls.  Returning to my room early one morning at a famous fallen, grand-shabby downtown Los Angeles hotel, a passageway door silently closed behind me and I found myself apparently trapped in a long straight corridor with no point of ingress or egress, only wide white walls and massive blocking doors.  Crying out seemed pointless and impolite.  

For several long tense minutes, before clearing the mystery, I firmly believed I was dead.





Kate Sanborn, Old Time Wall Papers, Greenwich, The Literary Collector Press, 1905.

Thursday, March 6, 2014

INFINITE RELIEF (A PEEP AT THE MOON)






The chief disciples and an intimidating array of senior Lamas were gathered around the Rimpoché to receive me.  Just as I was about to pass through the doorway of the room and prostate myself, I had to stop and search agitatedly beneath the flap of my borrowed gown, delving into the loose fold above my hurriedly wound sash.  To my infinite relief, my fingers soon encountered the Kharda, the ceremonial scarf which must accompany the gift I was about to make, though I had no clear recollection of having put it there a few moments before.  Even if these eminent recluses and professors should discover my ignorance, at least they would have no cause to consider me boorish.




Then, taking a deep breath, as for a plunge, I strode forward, fell to my knees and placed my forehead on the ground.  Just as I was about to rise for the third time, I felt the touch of gnarled old fingers on my scalp and immediately my agitation left me.  The expression in the many pairs of eyes regarding me was friendly, and I knew then that I had no cause for embarrassment or fear.





John Blofeld, The Wheel of Life, Berkeley, Shambala, 1972


Kate Sanborn, Old Time Wall Papers, Greenwich, The Literary Collector Press, 1905.