Beat poet Allen Ginsberg's 100th birthday is being marked by celebrations around the world – an appreciation of his importance to poetry and how his influence on the medium continues.
"Howl," also known as "Howl for Carl Solomon," is a poem composed by drug-addled Allen Ginsberg (who had shot himself up with methamphetamine or what Hitler's doctor shot up the Fuhrer with under the German pharmaceutical name Pervitin, possibly linked to words like perky and perverted) in 1954–1955.
Gay Ginsberg began work on "Howl" in autumn of 1954. He performed it at the Six Gallery reading in San Francisco in Oct. 1955. Fellow poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti of City Lights Books was at the performance and published the work in the 1956 collection Howl and Other Poems.
Upon its release, Ferlinghetti and City Lights Bookstore Manager (Japanese Buddhist) Shigeyoshi Murao were charged with disseminating obscene literature. Both perverts were arrested.
On Oct. 3, 1957, Judge Clayton W. Horn ruled that the poem was not obscene [1], and the heroic publishers were hailed as innovative geniuses and brave publishing mavericks for spotting Ginsberg's talent.
Highly controversial at first and for years excluded from the academic canon, "Howl" has gradually come to be regarded as a great work of 20th-century American literature [2].
This poem is an account of a sojourn (trip) with Jack Kerouac in a railroad yard, the discovery of a sunflower covered in dirt and soot from the railroad yard, and the subsequent revelation that this is a metaphor for all humanity: "We are not our skin of grime."
This relates to his vision, an auditory hallucination of poet William Blake reading "Ah, Sunflower": "Blake, my visions." (See also line in Howl: "Blake-light tragedies" and references in other poems).
The theme of the poem is consistent with Ginsberg's revelation in his original vision of Blake: the revelation that all of humanity is interconnected. (See also the line in "Footnote to Howl": "The world is holy!").
The structure of this poem relates to "Howl" both in its use of the long line and its repetition of the "eyeball kick" (paratactical juxtapositions) at the end. Ginsberg says in relating his thought process after the experiments of "Howl":
"What about a poem with rhythmic buildup power equal to Howl without use of repetitive base to sustain it? The Sunflower Sutra...did that, it surprised me, one long who" [6].More
What better way to move mindfully than the ancient Vedic rishi magic of "union" (yoga) with the breath (prana, spirit) and the All (advaita, our universal interconnectedness)?
The martial arts are martial, that is, related to war and fighting. Qigong and yoga are about peacefully moving energy in the body. Even a very fat, unhealthy, other-abled person could do yoga (e.g., Iyengar Yoga) or begin to move chi (qi, kyi, prana) for health and recovery.
Average Janes and Joes might even be to the point where the practice of saluting the sun (Surya Namaskar) is a good idea. We'll start the New Year doing just that:
The monthly Deep Dive Poetry series continues at the PRS mansion on the hill in Hollywood, across from Griffith Park. May's featured poets are Lynne Thompson, Elizabeth Metzger, Sarah Maclay, and Jeremy Ra. This event is hosted by Mandy Kahn, Ross J. Farrar, and Jane McCarthy.
PRS EVENTS: PRS wants all guests to enjoy events safely and comfortably. Please note: The PRS library is only accessible via stairs.
For accommodation, please reach out to events@prs.org or call (323) 663-2167 before the show and PRS will be happy to assist. RSVP:
Questions? Interested in hosting an event, filming, or sponsoring a program at PRS, please email contact@prs.org. Thank you.
Parking is available in both front lot (entry from Los Feliz Blvd. when heading east) and back lot (entry from first alley way, off Griffith Park Blvd. from intersection with Los Feliz Blvd.), as well as ample street parking on Griffith Park Blvd.
PRS reserves the right to refuse service to anyone.
Events are subject to change without notice, including guest speakers and/or performers.
Please arrive at least 30 min. before the scheduled event start time to find parking, enjoy the bookstore, and find seats.
Please turn off all mobile devices before the show. Talking and texting are not allowed during the events.
No filming, audio recording, or mobile phone recording of events, screenings, concerts or other programs by audience members is allowed.
We convened, a full house, in two rooms of Manly P. Hall's dream vision come to life -- a treasure store open to the public, the Philosophical Research Society's library, housing the combined wisdom of the ages and all the religions of the world. Even works on northern Native Americans next to an image of Japan's beloved Indian sage Bodhidharma are included, after passing an exquisite bronze walking Buddha at the entrance.
Candidate Dr. Cornel West
Seated in the second row was presidential candidate Dr. Cornel West because his Iranian-Persian wife, Annahita Mahdavi West, was scheduled to read from her book Dusty Relics (Marymount Institute Press).
There was another event in the auditorium, and the gift shop was open for buying books and other items. The main court is a lovely place to think under moonlit skies just yards from Griffith Park. PRS has a prime location on Los Feliz ("The Contented") Boulevard. The library was filled and opened to the public because its founder, Hall, wanted the people of the world to have a place for their "intuitive perusal" of its volumes on all the wisdom traditions of the world. The world may not use it, but Angelenos can. (I used to drive by ever since I learned to drive and wonder what the place could be, a giant think tank where a society of philosophers gathered to research ideas and occult secrets, mysteries, and paths to enlightenment. No one ever said it was open to the public before Mandy Kahn began her residency there. Even Lisa Garr (The Aware Show KPFK, Coast to Coast AM iheart.com, Gaia TV, Hey House Publishers), when she invited me to learn animal communication with a gifted psychic and author, didn't say, "Oh, yeah, come back for the library and to hang around philosophizing. I had probably outgrown that phase by then.
Mandy Kahn took to the podium, thanked the capacity crowd (after having thanked Wisdom Quarterly: American Buddhist Journal and the various Dharma Buddhist Meditation Meetups around the county for helping fill the seats).
She welcomed award winning Pepperdine University Prof. of English Kate Bolton Bonnici Esq., who read her poetic take on ancient accounts of women, the "witches of Essex," from pamphlets written in the 1600s now made available in digitized form. These were written by men in an age when women had nearly no voice, no means of expressing themselves other than through biased men whose biased accounts fill these early tabloids. Is it any wonder we suffered the Salem witch trials? Such atrocities had been happening in Christian England for centuries. She put the finishing touch on her dramatic reading, or what seemed like a dramatic reading because the lights were turned down, and the lamp on the podium shot up to give the flashlight-under-the-face next to a roaring campfire effect when its ghost story time: the historical figure Elizabeth Francis was an accused witch with a cat (a familiar) who could grant wishes. What men and society would not grant a gal, she had to gather herself from midwives and wise and cunning women who stood as allies against an old patriarchy. Good thing we do not have such problems nowadays, now that the Academy has recognized Barbieas the greatest film of our time and Greta Gerwig as the... What, Oppy won? Hmm. Female poetry is needed more than ever. Prof. Bonnici continued with Scottish fairy beliefs in a piece that referenced Sir Thomas Moore's Utopia then the British witch trial of Elizabeth Southerns when a woman might "bleed out" her problems, though she died of old age in a castle in custody before her trial ever began. The reading was topped off with a firsthand account of a grandmother trying to learn the computer. One can guess how that turned out.
Another introduction, another professor. He was meditative reading a book-length piece that talked about Reno as was quickly off the stage, a marvelous albeit staid voice that surprisingly used the f-word a bit much. Everyone else kept it clean (until for the headliner's closing piece, phallic cucumbers and honeymoon activities were underscored with subtle intimations of salad eating. No children were harmed in the declaiming of this verse as none were present).
Some words from a bio and a man with perhaps a tiny Oedipal complex and large glasses started to read from a book. His contribution to the night's poetry seemed like an impromptu letter to an ex, who one would think was not happy to receive it. But all literary appreciation is subjective, and one cup of tea does not sate all sippers. I am also no fan of Stephen King. But, go figure, most people are. Next.
Co-host Jane McCarthy stood to read, but now every reader was standing too much to the right, perhaps to look to the left into the warm, inviting pools of Kahn's eyes in the front row as she sat at her mother's side. The upshot of this shift is that the light behind them acted as a floodlight in our faces and cameras were of no use countering the glare. McCarthy gave an ode to Hall and his text Wisdom of the Ages then read, not from a book, but a flat viscose sheet of pulp. It was not a phone but some oldfangled invention in two dimensions.
With practice, achieve lucidity in dreaming. Astral travel and merge with others.
Then she introduced Mandy Kahn, who with three books of poetry to her credit will soon be reading at the Getty Center, the Los Angeles TimesFestival of Books (USC), Bolton Hall (for the Village Poets of Sunland-Tujunga), following previous appearances on the BBC and elsewhere. Kahn began by explaining that as a child of 4 or 5, growing up in Los Angeles, she spontaneously taught herself lucid dreaming (the ability to wake up in a dream by realizing one is in a dream and suddenly being free to do anything: have uncombed hair, dress comfortably, and bet on longshots). She did not have a word for it, but her newfound ability led to a remarkable discovery: When one leaves the body, it is possible to meet another disembodied being and merge with that individual. This practice gave rise to her poem "The Geyser," referencing the sweet honeysuckle-like nectar produced by such merging. Most of us have to search for it in sexual union with bodies, but that's only a pale imitation of the experience of merging and blending, overlapping and intertwining with someone on the astral or some such liminal state provided by the dream realm. This, she explained, is why she goes about life in a porous manner as if separated from others and reality by only a thin veil, believing in ideals like world peace. Hear her every Wednesday at 6:00 pm on Zoom saying so (free) under the auspices of PRS. She read selections from her new book, out in hardback this month, Holy Doors. It seems her enchanted childhood included gambling when, at age 6, she developed a penchant for "longshots." Sure, one will lose most of the time, but when one's ship comes in, there's nothing like folding and smelling each crisp bill. Her siblings scolded her for such foolish conduct. They're longshots for a reason, but to Mandy. She loves to bet on them and this, perhaps, is why the UC Berkeley graduate has made a successful career of being a poet, peace activist, literary event organizer, and lucid dreamer. Either that or she has a trust fund. Her advice to writers, dreamers, and truth seekers? "When we let our thinking go, we sink into what we know, and let things flow." She "leans into precision not perfection."
Teaching us about the musician Charles Ives, a polytonal, polyrhythmic musician ahead of his time, rather than seek acceptance by conforming, simply refused to share his . But he made music every day nonetheless. And that style eventually came into vogue. We might follow his example. Whether we do or whether we don't, her final piece came not from the book but was pulled from the latest headlines. Don't let Elon Musk's Neuralink technology anywhere inside your body. This beloved workhorse has grown, healed bone, knitted DNA, and brought us right where we are with experimental cyborg technology. Let's keep it that way and resist the lure of trying to improve something we are nowhere close to even beginning to understand -- these amazing brains wrapped in these wondrous bodies. It was unambiguously titled "Poem Against Implanting Technology Into Yourself. Stay organic. That is, choose the body. "What you do not, cannot understand, do not change." Someone in the middle of the hall broke protocol and loudly cheered her on. What would we do without our artists to remind us to stay true to ourselves?
She introduced Iranian born exile Annahita Mahdavi West, whom one could not be blamed in thinking was named Anahata Mahadevi East, were she originally from India. Future U.S. President Cornel West began to roll on his phone-camera duties.
Sholeh Wolpe, who's famous enough to have her own Wiki page and more than a dozen books to her credit, intermingling lyricism and prose narrative.
Wolpe was the surprise of the night, laying down an example that, if retro-causality could be accessed at will, would have made for a much more moving show. She talked, she read, she waved her arm. She produced laughs from the crowd and oohs and ahhs. She translates the greats as well, but there was no time to read that kind of work tonight. Still, the audience was assured, go home and read The Conference of the Birds by Sufi mystic Attar and be guaranteed a life altering experience.
She read from her book, Abacus of Loss, a memoir partially in Farsi that is in no way chronological because neither is memory, reading from the "This Coffin" section of the book. She left us with one lasting impression, a line she uttered as she was handed the mic by West: "Home," she said, "is a missing tooth. The tongue reaches for hardness, finds only absence." That was the impression but, in fact, she left us with a story of discovering sex with a fellow virgin and the advice she received, the remembrance of it, and its similarity to eating a durian, which is the fruit with the most extraordinary taste. But, being shamed for not knowing what she was doing ahead of time, which would have been good to know, she had to purge.
Mandy Kahn closed the show with final comments, alerting us that this poetry series is ongoing, the last Thursday of every month at PRS in Hollywood. The next show is April 25, 2024.
DEEP DIVE POETRY is a night of poems that dive into the deep questions -- about life, the universe, and everything -- exploring the vastness within and without. Featuring:
We gathered under sullen skies with breaks of sunshine and a slight chill in the air. Finding The Deep End Club is not a straightforward proposition now that it's moved from Echo Park, but it's within sight of the 110 Fwy. The sign was not yet put up. It's a gorgeous space, only three blocks from the massive local yoga studio and a few blocks offset from a place we once performed in concert. Before hipsters crowded in, there were kids. Tennessee, the owner had a newborn at her bosom, and one in a Rancid vegan-pleather jacket was monkeying around, all in good fun. The reading began with Mandy Kahn, who alternated with Current Pathways on a mix board and mic, making trippy sounds with Indian raja aspects. Then before Seven was brought up to the mic to read humorous pieces, which involved Sanskrit and Pali incantations, Gaelic, and more rapid-fire verse than most minds could comfortably accommodate -- it happened. A massive snowstorm struck. Snow in sunny Southern California? There was discussion if it was actually graupel, hail, loamy winter's breath, frozen rain...or ice the size of dimes and quarters. (But as we are not Inuit Alaskans with 100 words for what it might have been, it was snow. The news says hail. Some meteorologists say graupel, toe-may-toe/toe-mah-toe. The 1960s accents and massive mural of an Amanita muscaria made that seem improbable, but the nightly news confirmed it within a few hours. The show went overtime and ended with hugs and handshakes and repeated trips to the refreshment table. The club is three stories, and from the loft, fans looked down and marveled at the spiritual discussion as Kahn quizzed her fellow performers on their daily spiritual practice (yoga, meditation, and mindfulness). Sadhana is vital not only to daily life and sanity in the city but also to the production of art. The next show is on Thursday, March 28, 2024, at 7:30 pm at prs.org:
RSVP to thedeependclub@gmail.com for address. Space is limited, so RSVP soon. 🚪 Can’t wait to see y'all, Xx! đź’š (Thanks to @cali_wally for the flyer).
It is a lyrical, luminous, and highly spiritual journey exploring meditation, prayer, the afterlife, the poet’s love of peace, and ever-accessible grace.
It is also a record of what life is like as our spiritual nature begins to live more fully in the body. Each of Kahn’s poems begins with earnest inquiry and ends with an ecstatic moment of communion with the part of the self that is connected to all things.
A poet working within the traditions of the form, Kahn calls upon formal devices, such as iambic pentameter, slant rhyme, and end rhyme.
But it is done in so soft and deft a manner that one almost doesn’t notice the musicality prevalent in the work.
Kahn’s technical skill makes tradition feel suddenly fresh, soft, casual, and alive. With Holy Doors, we’re watching a poet both seeking — and finding — the holy in the everyday.
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The poems in the collection suggest then that the holy need not be pursued. It need only be noticed. For doors to ecstatic experience, as Kahn reminds us, are everywhere. More
Hi, I'm Meg Shoemaker, visionary party hostess and innovative yoga instructor (Kinship).
What happened?
The studio was packed to the mats with between one and two hundred in attendance, facing left, where a giant screen projected trippy nature and other images from a projector like an early Pink Floyd concert in a London club. A solo performer modulated knobs on a laptop and synth and effects boxes as she whispered and sang angelically into a mic with echo. Attendees, most of them young women dressed up and sporting tattoos with phones attached to the ends of their limbs, reclined on yoga blankets and cushions in the dark. Meg, in a see-through dress, stood by the entrance, welcoming everyone and making announcements, stepping to the mic to introduce the main attraction of the night -- second only to the socializing, networking, and being seen on the scene -- Amyrion, accompanied by live drums, guitars, and effects pedals. It was a beautiful introduction to the studio with a snack table of appetizers and drinks. The walls are covered with posters of upcoming events usually listed on the website.
Kinship Yoga in Highland Park (about 5 miles from DTLA near the 110 Fwy) is much more than a yoga studio. Yoga instructor Meg is out to make it a venue where all her musician friends can play. This event seeks to capture the magic of the first day of spring, which is what the spring equinox (equal day and night) is today. Happy spring! Or should we say, Happy New Year? That's right, for most of the world today was always New Year's Day, when the world shakes of the dandruff of snowflakes, turns green, comes back to life again.
This is a yoga studio, right? - I think it's a venue.
Gaia is reborn, young again, fresh and full of anticipation with all its sprouts, greens, and flowers. And look at all those pretty pollinators! All we need now to overcome the buzzing, tweeting, swooning, zipping, eating, mating, or growling of hungry cubs are some human sounds to drown them all out. Come mingle and listen to music. It's not a yoga class. It's a party. Meg is putting on a dress. It's casual but a little more dress up than tight leggings and support tops. Or whatevers. Be comfortable. The music will be extra heartful as Amyrion, who leads the twice weekly healing collective, will have a band to accompany him.
The rest of the time, there is plenty of yoga -- hot yoga (ashtanga, flow), cool yoga (hatha), outdoor yoga (weather permitting), group meditation, sleeping yoga (nidra), yoga to live music, sound baths, cold plunges, concerts, energy healings (with a dedicated practitioner's office on site), special events, special one-time classes, and some of the greatest people in all of Los Angeles. Try it: NEW STUDENT SPECIAL
Highland Park is the new center of Hipsterville, right ahead of Silver Lake and Echo Park
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