Category: Notes

Grain Elevators are tall trucks
 that let the road
approach them

I’ve always been a prose guy.
(More Pentateuch than Psalms.)

But I’ve always held the nag that I need to get into poetry (along with Jazz and Russian novels).

This is as good a start as any.

Short poems.
Straight to the point.
Haikus + Americana.

I’ve tried writing some myself, when I started this blog.

I bought this book around that time.
But buying and reading are different things.
So here I am, a decade later.

Not sure if I grok poetry any better.
That will be a matter of trying.
Again and again.

Reflected upsidedown
 in the sunset lake, pines,
Pointing to infinity

As for this book itself.
Jack successfully taps into the vividness of Haiku.

It’s a snapshot of mid-century America.
Unfortunately it’s also a snapshot of Jack’s unraveling.

I need to revisit this book in a few months.
Maybe I’ll better enjoy the art when I’ve become inured to his sad story.

Desk cluttered
 with mail—
My mind is quiet

At the turn of the century, there was a fad of cheeky comic books covering non-fiction subjects.

This one uses a gimmick of the Caterpillar teaching Alice in Wonderland.
This conceit works surprisingly well for a broad overview of Indian and East Asian thought.

It is awkward to read such books as an advanced beginner.
I’m not a bewildered neophyte, the intended audience.
But I don’t know enough to judge the veracity of the work.

However, it turned out to be a great moment to read this book.

It’s tough to jump into a new subject.
A pure beginner confronts too much information all at once.
But every book embeds a bias, especially the basic ones.
With a little familiarity, you can better converse with the author.
So a student should (re)visit an introductory text after some study.

I used this tactic when learning to bake bread.
After reading every baking book at the library, I could discern implicit instructions.
So I could mine the most basic cookbooks for their unwritten assumptions.

The hard part is humbling myself to open an beginner’s book.
Maybe that’s why I haven’t picked up a cookbook in years.

䷞䷬

The graphics in this book haven’t aged well, but that wasn’t the point. These books were designed to be appetizing at the time of publication. Given the extent of the series, I’d say they worked.

I got this book at the Spring Valley Friends of the Library bookstore along with several volumes. This is the first that I’ve read. I should get onto the rest of them.

A mathematician tackles this topsy-turvy religious philosophy.

It’s a collection of 47 short essays that predate the blog-post book fad by three decades.

Smullyan plays with multiple voices, draws from Chinese poets, and utilizes his training as a logician.

His bemused detachment won’t convince a skeptic, but if you’re already digging Taoism then you’ll enjoy this book.

䷟䷉

The book brings back memories of summer, visiting my cousin for two weeks, where I came across Smullyan’s Alice in Puzzleland at the Whittier Library.

I should revisit this book to for a deeper dive, but I want to play jump into other subjects first.

Can you choose your religion?

If you could, these two books would be a good start.

God is Not One is a survey of eight world religions, their beliefs, practices, and varieties.
Every religion asks different questions and finds divergent answers.
For some, belief is not important, even if orthodoxy is primary in yours.
Aspects of these religions might resonate, but each of them are distinct endeavors with varied goals and methods.

How to Live a Good Life is a collection of essays by practitioners.
The essays proselytize a little, but given the collection’s liberal bent these are a soft sells.
The book offers a multitude of voices, but leave you to complete the comparison.

The two pair well.
A survey coupled with individual perspectives from the inside.

䷶䷾

But I’m not sure you can choose your religion.
Maybe you can modulate your level of devotion, but can you choose its object?

“Give me a child till he is seven and I will show you the man.”
After listening to these books, I’ve realized my roots are in Christianity, Confucianism, and Taoism.
My parents are Christian, but our heritage is Chinese.
They might have converted, but they couldn’t escape their milieu.
Me too.

I don’t believe in the literal claims of the Bible, but I spent my first twenty years in the good book.
The prophets and the apostles molded my worldview.

I came across Lao Tzu in my thirties, and only recently read Confucius.
I didn’t expect to appreciate the stuffy Confucius or wacky Taoists.
But unlike other philosophies (such as Epicurus) their writings just fit, like finding the perfect pair of sneakers.
I see unwritten aspects of my upbringing with these dusty tomes.

What next?
Drill deeper.

Maybe I’ll find a way to read the Bible that elides its cosmology.
Or study moral order for this fragmented age.
Shall I meditate around philosophical conundrums?

Or maybe it will be something else altogether.
Unplanned and predetermined.