Strange, wherever I turn or whatever I turn to there's always someone wanting to take control and organize, formulate and re-shape what I'm doing. Well, not precisely what I am doing but what a lot of people in general are doing by themselves. (What they would do anyway). Writing, for instance. A couple of thousand people write daily observations of the world around them, of the borderland between their inner and their outer world and/or observations of the actual birthplace of reality: how both these spheres actually are one. Either as a "training" purpose or as a way of becoming less self-absorbed, I guess.
eyes like nightfall the mirror remains empty
At times these organizer people create platforms and forums for all us scattered writers - and I raise my hat to their efforts and (seemingly) altruistic use of their time - and we seem to get in a cosy mood where we more or less begin to look alike. At some point a certain sense of uniformity sneeks in and the topics for our writing become toothless and unaspiring.
the usual spring not one frog goes "oink"
At some point an ideology, a philosophical or religious framework appears. The faulty notion of the "objective sketch", the "real reality", the mythical "now" which seems to still haunt Western haiku writers for whom "observations" has become a mantra of babble and utter emptiness become an excuse for flaunting an undemanding hobby-buddhism (only the nice and romantic aspects though). Ach, the easily seduced Westerners so insecure that they'll escape to traditions not their own thinking it's a sign of spiritual progress ... not knowing the hollowness and falseness of these inventions. When a religious idea or a philosopical idea comes in the flow dies.
the water's not frozen "you have an old soul", she tries
... and they forget that the idealized reality they're searching doesn't have anything to do with their own inescapeable real life and conditions from where all they write arise. So, how honest can your wrriting be if you start out with a lie ...
sakura? I pick up a dandelion and sneeze
So, what's the point of this lengthy "burp"? My "stones" on this blog will no longer be "stones" as the name is an invention of two people who so much want to be the "spiritual parents" of all those writers mentioned within a tea and cake friendly buddhist framework ... they'll be "belly-button fluff", rubber swans, ear-wax giants or whatever