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An Ode to the Life and Glory
of the Mushroom
Where do you draw
the line between that
which is caged and that which is free?
A point on a continuum A matter of degree?
A framework of time and space? Subjective reality?
What about the vine that grows around the
tree?
Does life flow from
a well of need?
Or does it follow energy's lead?
Was there something before? A seed?
And now? Something more? A deed for us to be
freed?
So it was with
these questions, I sat down.
Humbling change to smile from frown.
I was lost, now I am Found.
Behold! There is a mushroom on the ground.
Mushrooms grow off
the fallen giants of old.
New glory it brings to them.
its life helps create a new kingdom, (worth more than
gold)
Like the mushroom, this is my freedom.
Sackler
Hemphill
1996
Tommy
Gallardo, '98 (aka Sackler Hemphill) lives in
California, and treasures his time amid the trees. He is
a mycologist ("mushroomologist") by hobby.
photo by Josh
Arnold
EVENTS
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Haiku
Competition:
Haiku poetry came into existence during the Edo period of
awakend Japanese culture. Its most artful practitioner,
Matsuo Basho (1644-94) traveled extensively throughout
his lifetime keenly observing the nuances of surrounding
life and nature. Three centuries later, Jack Kerouac
(1922-69) was the first to compose Haiku in English; his
style, though modern, retains the traditional form and
intent.
-- paraphrased from box of "Haiku twig
tea"
Haiku poems are three lines,
containing usually 5, 7, and 5 syllables respectively.
Also, haiku usually have a seasonal reference. For
example:
tapping on
keyboard
drizzle against the window
dream of warm sunlight
Submit, and a selection of the best,
worst, and most/least creative will be featured in the
April issue of the Poetry Notes column.
Please use the online submission
form to the right, or hand letter your haiku and place in
law school campus box 5075.
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Poetry
Readings: These days it's
(still) a bit out of style to suddenly start
break-dancing in public places. Similarly it is out of
style to spend an evening anywhere other than at a
bar drinking and whiling the time away. It would be silly
for me to persuade you, since your social life is quite
rightly your own. So then, why not consider it a primal
duty? Take your friends to a reading. Mark your calendar
today.
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Cafe Lena, 2239 SE
Hawthorne Blvd., Portland, OR, (503) 238-7087
• Every Tuesday at a cozy space in
southeast Portland with food, drinks, and a
smoke-free environment. Arrive at 8:30 p.m. to
sign up, 9:00 p.m. to hear poetry. Next
event: 2/23/99
In Other Words Bookstore, 3734 SE
Hawthorne Blvd., Portland, OR, (503) 232-6003
• Last Friday of every month; arrive at
8:30 p.m. to sign up, 9:00 p.m. to hear poetry.
These are WOMEN-only readings! Guys are welcome
to cheer along in the audience. Next event:
2/26/99
Berbati's Pan, 231 SW Ankeny,
Portland, OR, (503) 248-4579 Very dark and
smoky. Poets read from a stage. Last Wednesday
of every month. Arrive at 7:30 p.m. to sign up,
8:30 p.m. to hear poetry. Next event:
2/24/99
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What does the word "nature" conjure in your mind? A
highly scientific study of law students in the lounge led
to such responses as "forest," "trees," "leaf," "spring,"
"granola," and "ocean." Before me, a wall of glass rises
three stories; beyond, trees stand and sway, the
luminescent sun glowing through the leaves.
Our school prides itself on our environmental program;
for five years running it's been the best in the country.
But "nature" is far more profound and universal than the
more technical and policy-oriented modern meaning of
"environment." To Shroedinger's cat, the inside of a box
may very well be an "environment," but few would consider
it a place in nature. In a world where it's impossible to
attach the meaning to just the word we want, the term
"environment" is used to describe that part of nature
where the battle lines are drawn.
Nature is where we breathe deep, search wide, and look
as far as the eye can see, as close as our nose will
allow. Disorder and anarchy rule in the forest, at sea,
below in the moist soil. The weary, demoralized masses --
all day organizing, stacking, serving, and stocking --
break loose and are liberated in the perfect chaos of
nature.
Harmony and boundless systems of relation permeate
nature. From the food chain to oxygen, nitrogen, and
water cycles, synchronicity abounds. In this issue,
Sackler Hemphill's poem glorifies rotting bark for
bringing new life in the form of mushrooms. Bryan Smith
recounts the almost conscious cooperation of the clouds,
lightning, and air in the explosion of a stormfront.
All right, enough mushy stuff. Naturally, an author
can't endlessly wax sympathetic without developing
low-level nausea. Natural results of such
one-with-the-earth Zen public meditation can be writer's
block and unmitigated tendencies to forget. Forget things
like looking for a job, putting food on the table, or
being a responsible "serious" member of society.
So how do you explain this story? The other day, a
friend of mine was brushing his teeth, when suddenly he
saw something flit about the light above the vanity
mirror. On closer inspection, he realized that a ladybug
had found its way into the confines of his
wintertime-sealed home. Something inspired him to capture
the bug and carry it to his bedroom windowsill, raise the
window, and set the insect free.
Time. Nostalgia. Liberation. Nature.
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