Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Monday, April 15, 2013

Reading Gary Snyder and Nature; Attaining Zen.



From the Desk of Ashish Shrestha: Reading Gary Snyder and Nature; Attaining Zen.


"'Tis a good reader that makes a good book." — Ralph Waldo Emerson (Also in image: The Luckless Age by Steve Kistulentz). So, writers, let's read today.

GARY SNYDER is one of my favorite essayists. His views on Nature are much different, for me, than several of his friends from the Beats Generation. Kirby Olson writes, "A lot of people — Ginsberg, Kerouac had started to find these books [books on Zen]. Everybody was reading about this Zen and Gary [Snyder] was the only one who had figured out how to meditate [...]."(http://www.corpse.org/archives/issue_9/critiques/olson.htm).

Bellow is my blog-essay on why you should read his work, "Ancient Forests Of The Far West." Here is a link to the essay: Gary Snyder, Ancient Forests Of The Far West (Source: WordPress)

Bonus: Here is a link to my favorite poem by him: "Why Log Truck Drivers Rise Earlier Than Students of Zen" 

Gary SnyderAncients Forest Of The Far West
"After the Clear-cut"




Perchance Gary Snyder’s idea of Nature tolls in the advice his father gave him when he was just 10 years old. Snyder was cutting a tree using a two-person saw with his father when the latter advised, “don’t ride the saw […] don’t push, only pull.” The act of pushing, to me, implies intrusion of Nature, perhaps ravishing it for monetary gains. On the other hand, pulling implies taking in from Nature. Perhaps this is his philosophy. Handiwork helps one in taking from Nature — its ancient, virginal (to each person) knowledge.
Handiwork — enveloped in Nature, working with it and in it — provides Snyder a feeling of being one with Nature — Zen, he calls it. He recalls the harmonious saw-work with his father saying, “I loved the clean swish and ring of the blade, the rhythm, the comradeship.” It is interesting that while he is “in tune” with Nature, he is also seemingly destroying it by cutting it down. This may seem paradoxical, however, perhaps he is not destroying Nature but rather, unlike mass cutting and devastation caused by money hungry companies, he is calculatingly cutting only a selective few trees in order to “pull” from it its knowledge. Causing Nature discomfort is far different than causing its extinction. His descriptions of his feeling in cutting the tree, intriguingly, captures only the sounds made by the blade of his saw and the curling of the wood, and not the sounds or even a hint of the presence of any human being — except, of course, the advice of his father, which also relates to Nature. Perhaps, therefore, the “comradeship” he mentions is not with a person, but that with Nature.
Snyder does not just immerse himself in Nature, but rather personifies it and, more so, feels it advises him. By doing so, he is humbly accepting that Nature is larger, grander than a person. This is not the belief of money hungry companies; they perhaps don’t even consider Nature as a living organism, but rather just a means, an instrument of profit.

Snyder’s personification of Nature is particularly interesting as it is a window into his mind, his source of inspiration. He talks of having climbed a red cedar tree, which advised him about Nature, showing him the “second-growth Douglas fir, western hemlock, and cedar forest beyond the cow pasture.” The term “second-growth,” of course, stands out as it emphasizes Snyder’s philosophy of sustainable and renewable interaction with Nature, particularly in logging. “Second-growth” suggests a selective cutting of trees, of old trees, while letting the younger trees stand erect and grow tall, forming the second generation of trees. Scientifically, we know that not all trees grow to the same height, since some trees absorb more light, and in cases, even destroy and cannibalize on other trees. Snyder’s selective logging helps in the growth of all trees — a more utilitarian idea, perhaps one that allows all trees to grow fully.
Snyder further recalls waking up at 3 A.M. only so he could break camp on a glacier and, thus, be able to witness the majestic sight of Nature at sunrise. He says, “These are some of the esoteric delights of mountaineering. To be immersed in ice and rock and cold and upper space is to undergo an eery [sic], rigorous initiation and transformation.” The word that stands out to me is “initiation.” It implies a ceremonial or ritualistic welcome of him by Nature unto itself

— Ashish Shrestha (ashesshrestha.blogspot.com)