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Volume 43.1
Winter Spring 2012

featured essay

 

HaikuHolograms

by Dru Philippou

All things will be in everything;
nor is it possible for them to be apart,
but all things have a portion of everything.

— Anaxagoras c. 500 bce

When a holographic plate is cut several times, each fragment contains the entire image. In other words, the whole can be found in every part and the notion of separation becomes impossible. Even the idea of separation is contained in the all.

To make a hologram, a laser light is split into two beams. The first beam bounces off the object and is reflected onto the holographic plate, or recording medium. A second projected beam creates an interference pattern that contains the information of the object spread throughout the plate. This means that the image of the object is everywhere on the plate but nowhere in its potential form. When a source of light is projected onto the recorded plate, a three-dimensional image of the object appears in space. One can walk around the object, but it has no physical substance.

Everything that is written, poetry or not, is "holographic" in nature given that we live within the holographic "field" of consciousness. However, the more conscious and intentional one is when focusing on a particular expression, the field is affected differently than with less conscious expressions. The mystic poems of Rumi, for example, impart strong holographic imprints that transcend culture and faith because of the spirit that is infused behind his words. Perhaps haiku given their concise one-to-five-line form ask the writer to enfold more of the intent behind their message than poetry that is not "confined" to such rules.

When a haiku is first read, it may seem confusing because the connection between the two juxtaposed images is not yet clear. This is analogous to the interference pattern on the holographic plate. The two images of the haiku correspond to the two beams projected onto the holographic plate. When the poem is understood, the haiku images blend together producing a satori experience, or a split-second comprehension of the poem. This is like shining a source of light onto the recorded plate and the three-dimensional image appears in space. Further, with the help of the poem, we find ourselves motivated to shine our own light of awareness within our more holographic lit-up brain field and for a few precious moments, we experience the holistic intention of the poem. Inasmuch as a satori moment expresses the ultimate wholeness of our world it is this Big Mind stretch toward wholeness within our own selves, which helps make haiku poems so exemplary:

A cuckoo—
Far out where it disappears,
A lone island.*

The cuckoo enfolds back into the vast expanse of the island and becomes one with its surroundings. Finite and infinite realities interpenetrate and are rendered indivisible and eternal—making such lines most one-derfully expressive of what always amounts to a holographic world.

 

*Makoto Ueda. Matsuo Basho. Tokyo: Kodansha International, 1982.

 

 

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