Proximity Effect
“[…] a poet only has to be there when the bread comes fresh from the oven.” - Jim Harrison, quoting René Char.
Today, like many other days I
notice that god is a tree by the way
I, an eagle and two chipmunks circle it.
We almost make out the song it sings.
As we near, the hum drops lower,
louder. A late night radio DJ as
I take the highway offramp.
A string of numbers. An “aw, yeah”.
The morning started with the sky
close enough to touch, hesitating
with an offering. Nudging my shoulder
as if to say
“Hop on. Let’s take one great ride.”
Some days all 10,000 things become
at once. A tear in space time
lets the awe seep through.
This poem is simply about attending and how some days that’s easier than others. Days where you are able to peel back the first layer of being present, and arrive at a deep humility and interconnectedness with all things. The moments of linguistic communication in this poem are also insufficient - almost making out the song of the tree, the DJs arbitrary numbers and catch phrase, the sky “as if to say”. The most meaningful communication is beyond language.
Proximity Effect is a term used in audio for how low frequencies appear boosted when the subject is closer to the microphone. I like the idea of heightened senses as you get nearer to an object or a “source”. It reminds me again of the Robin Wall Kimmerer book Gathering Moss, and the routine of using a hand lens.
In the Tao Te Ching by Laozi, an ancient Chinese philosophy/poem, “10,000 things” is used as a way to represent everything that is. However, the tradition uses a tangible number (and not that high of a number) to suggest that there are many things that are not, and will not, be known.