Dear Haijin, visitors and travelers,
As you all know recently Jane Reichhold passed away. She will be missed. I have asked Jen (BlogItorLoseIt) to write a tribute for Jane Reichhold. Jen emailed me yesterday her tribute.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
If I could
live my life over
to be the child
who planted ash trees
to grow into temples
live my life over
to be the child
who planted ash trees
to grow into temples
- Jane Reichhold, Scarlet Scissors Fire
When Kristjaan asked if I would write
about my bond with Jane, I immediately said I’d be honored. But to
tell you the truth, I am woefully inadequate for the task.
For almost a year, Jane and I
corresponded by email. It began when I asked her for recommended
reading. If I wanted to explore the best tanka written by women,
where would I start? A Girl with Tangled Hair (Akiko Yosano)
was at the top of her list.
I bought it, devoured it, and thanked
her profusely. But … I also made an uncomfortable confession. In
taking such risks writing tanka (especially erotic pieces) I had
revealed too much of my heart. There was fallout … and sometimes I
didn’t want to write anymore.
And Jane (whom I revered even then as
“The Queen of Haiku and Tanka”) admitted something
astonishing. An especially harsh book review wounded her so deeply
that she stopped writing. Completely. For a very long time. When
she did write again, she wrote on a child’s erasable slate. She
wrote, she erased, she shared with no one.
Jane understood! She had been
there!
art is exact
like a woman in love
pencil and error
a blue-lined grid of wants
where death is unnamed
like a woman in love
pencil and error
a blue-lined grid of wants
where death is unnamed
- Jane, Scarlet Scissors Fire
From that moment on, our correspondence
wasn’t mentor to student but woman to woman.
When my personal life began to
disintegrate, she sent one of her handcrafted therapy dolls (named
“Peanut”) in the hope that it would pull me out of a deepening
depression. When an injury kept me housebound and wracked in pain, I
was frustrated and furious. She asked me to be gentle with myself …
but also said, “You are living my nightmare.” She hinted at
health issues and failing eyesight but would not discuss them. For a
year she was patient beyond measure … encouraging me to write
again … she said people needed to hear my voice.
When a second creative source
maneuvered me into silence, she sent her phone number and asked me to
call. But ... how … could I call? I was so nervous!
One day as I was ready to walk out the
door a voice said, “Call. NOW.”
So I did.
We talked for about two hours. We
laughed … a lot. We shared life stories and found more in common
than I ever could have imagined. But she said, “the vortex” was
opening under her feet. And she would not elaborate. Instead, she
worried about my personal safety (a story for another day). She
would not rest until I promised to leave town for a few days … so …
I did.
there is a
stone
tongue crushed in a room
of tombstone teeth
grapes mature helplessly
gathered after a funeral
tongue crushed in a room
of tombstone teeth
grapes mature helplessly
gathered after a funeral
- Jane, Scarlet Scissors Fire
At the end of our call she offered an
intense ten minutes of advice … delivered in a soft but urgent
voice that could have quieted a stadium.
Find what makes you happy. Don’t
let anyone silence you. Speak your truth. Write. Write!
So … sitting in the dark on a beach
in Delaware, I pieced together fragments of haiku.
Once home, I went online to email Jane.
But of course I was sidetracked by Facebook … and there was a post
by Jane! Or … rather … a post from Jane’s friend.
Jane was gone.
Jane, I wish you had saved all those
erased haiku. I wish you could see that I’m writing again. I wish
that someone could have eased your pain, saved your eyesight, ensured
your mobility. All I can offer is a humble “thank you”. You
changed everything.
milk sky
the unbearable heaviness
of things unspoken
before the sandpiper
calls to the sea
the unbearable heaviness
of things unspoken
before the sandpiper
calls to the sea
- Paloma
**
In addition to Jane’s tanka (above)
here are a few haiku from her Dictionary of Haiku, under
Summer Moods. Please use them for your inspiration, and don’t be
afraid to speak your truth.
lying naked
open to summer stars
this old couple
open to summer stars
this old couple
he's angry
again
alone on the porch
with a red star
alone on the porch
with a red star
departing summer
and when it's gone
the river's low
and when it's gone
the river's low
touching
myself
your name
on my lips
your name
on my lips
eating melon
bites given on the point
of his knife
bites given on the point
of his knife
nights
the grove of little trees
swollen with lovers
the grove of little trees
swollen with lovers
packing
between unworn shirts
sea sounds
between unworn shirts
sea sounds
company's
coming
over-friendly flies
buzzing at the door
over-friendly flies
buzzing at the door
in rain in sun
how do you run from your hours
window box zinnia?
how do you run from your hours
window box zinnia?
0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Thank you Jen for this beautiful tribute for Jane Reichhold, what a wonderful bond you had with her. She surely will be missed by the global haiku world.
You can respond on this tribute through the comment field or link your haiku, tanka or other Japanese poetry form to the linking widget. You can submit your responses until next Sunday August 21st at noon (CET).
