See our Privacy Policy
Gratefulness
The sixth of an eight-day practice celebrating National Poetry Month and inspired by Br. David's appreciation of and experience with haiku.
The Haiku is, paradoxically, a poem about silence. Its very core is silence. ~ Br. David Steindl-Rast
The Haiku is, paradoxically, a poem about silence. Its very core is silence.
~ Br. David Steindl-Rast
In his book, A Listening Heart: The Spirituality of Sacred Sensuousness, Br. David Steindl-Rast writes:
The Haiku is, paradoxically, a poem about silence. Its very core is silence. There is probably no shorter poetic form in world literature than the classical Haiku with its seventeen syllables and, yet. The masters put these seventeen syllables down with a gesture of apology, which makes it clear that the words merely serve the silence. All that matters is the silence. The Haiku is a scaffold of words; what is being constructed is a poem of silence; and when it is ready, the poet gives a little kick, as it were, to the scaffold. It tumbles, and silence alone stands.
Haiku by Br. David Steindl-Rast
We can almost hear the first big raindrops falling one by one. But this is already the moment after the decisive one; the moment after the one that held its breath in limitless anticipation. This is not a poem about rain, but about the silence before the rain. A strange poem, the Haiku! It zeroes in on the here and now which is nowhere. It celebrates the all-oneness of aloneness in all the bliss of its poignant pain. It stakes out territory for discovery precisely where life is most daily. And while setting up landmarks of adventure, it wipes out its own footprints. It denies itself. For it shoots words like arrows at the target of silence. Every word that hits the mark returns to the silence out of which it has come.
Today we invite you to explore silence around and within your haiku. How might every word that speaks to us then return to the silence from which it has arisen, leaving us touched but not taken away from our experience?
This is an experiment in full-bodied listening. An exploration of the silence through which words (and all else) arise. Don’t think too much about this but rather tap into the open space of wonder as you play with words and how words coexist with the absence of words. If it helps to reread the passage by Br. David above a few times and feel into what he is pointing at, please do.
When you are ready, write your haiku in a notebook and/or share it below along with any reflections about your experience.
Please log in or Create a Profile to post a comment.
you never knew me when we were together and how i love you now
+
no longer banished alone in mausoleum alive within me
Thank you for this beautiful remembrance of my husband’s passing, and our lives together. in my own personal experience, I might change that first line to “I never knew you” and leave the rest as it is: perfect.
Choice of mine today Notifications turned off Sweet silence, no dings.
Silence Space Air Time Noise replaced by nothingness. Dwell within silence.
A musical rest Silence with notes on both sides. Hear the difference.
Pregnant pause, building Accumulated force waits Cradled in silence
Cacophony’s serenade This vivid display Prelude to peace
Quiet tired day Not so silent birds singing Wind makes empty space
Slowly change happens Ends become beginnings Quickly all is now different
Shards of color litter the walk– one pansy stands alone the hail forgotten in the rainbow
The peach tree hums quietly As the bees go about their daily chores
Between dynamics Opens a space of silence Pregnant with chances
Mother is uncovered Her whisper is Sheltered as the awning.
The sandy beach is glistening The palms wade along The birds suckle the honey
Smiles are raw The pitch is high Branches wade in the waters
Blooms the tulips Pastels paint the textures Raindrops dew the landscapes.
At the end of the day Silent meditation Feeds my soul
Pools of ochre Soulful eyes speak to me No words, only love
Leaves clap stillness urged to take one more encore
As I sit in my house quietly looking out the window, the leaves look like they’re clapping to a silent performance asking for an encore.
Mid-afternoon rest, spring’s gentle southern breeze invokes peaceful dreams.
A day of prayer no time to articulate God’s gifted silence
Waterfalls transport thunder misted tales flowing silence of the scene
Serving the Silence Offering hands to weed, mulch Listening to Poppies sing with my eyes Heart praying quiet gratitude.
Old man cannot hear Yet sitting on the park bench Springtime becomes him
I am motivated by a picture of Irish poet Patrick Kavanagh’s statue along the Grand Canal in Dublin, Ireland.
my ears ring the first drops make ripples that ring & ring
Someone else is up Listening to breakfast sounds Glad we’ll share the day
Write an entry in your private gratefulness journal
Welcome to week four — the final week — of our practice. I’m excited to…
Welcome to week three of our practice. I’m excited to continue offering these excerpts from…
Welcome to week two of our practice. I’m excited to continue offering these excerpts from…
This site is brought to you by A Network for Grateful Living, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit. All donations are fully tax deductible in the U.S.A.
© 2000 - 2021, A Network for Grateful Living
Website by Briteweb
We are delighted to announce the release of Kristi Nelson’s book Wake Up Grateful