“PURE AS LAPIS LAZULI”

Project by Erik Kramer

"The more I think about it the more I believe “place” and “music” are made of the same thing. Both place and music are constructed via the same processes- the creation of intent and inhabitation over time and space.

 

The desire to “inhabit” sound is something that propels a lot of deep and intentional listening- I believe it is a very similar experience to getting to know and love a place or a landscape. Thinking of music as a place to be, or as a landscape to explore that we can share mutual experiences of, is a helpful way to highlight the codependent and collective aspects of music making and listening. 

 

When we begin to think of music as place, it becomes easier to shift the possibilities of sound-experience away from an atomized individual experience of music and more toward a communitarian, interdependent practice that dissolves the borders between our selves, others, and environments."

interact with the project by clicking the images
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The Blue Sky by Gary Snyder

 

“Eastward from here,

 

beyond Buddha-worlds ten times as

numerous as the sands of the Ganges

there is a world called

  PURE AS LAPIS LAZULI

its Buddha is called Master of Healing,

  AZURE RADIANCE TATHAGATA”

 

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It would take you twelve thousand summer vacations driving a car due east all day every day to reach the edge of the lapis lazuli realm of Medicine Old Man Buddha;

East. Old Man Realm,

East across the sea, yellow sand land

Coyote Old Man land

Silver, and stone blue.

 

Blue. belo, “bright colors of the flames”

  flamen / brahman.

  beltane, “blue fire”—

Sky.

  [the dappled cloud zone—

  Sanskrit sku “covered”

  skewed (pied) skewbald (.....”Stewball”)

  skybald / piebald]—

 

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Horse with lightning feet!

a mane like distant rain, 

the turquoise horse,

a black star for an eye

white shell teeth.

 

Pony that feeds on the pollen of flowers

may he

make thee whole.

  Heal, hale, whole.

 

The Spell Of The Master Of Healing

 

Namo bhagavate bhaishajyaguru-vaidurya-

prabharajaya tathagata arhate samyak

sambuddhaya tadyatha om bhaishajye

bhaishajye bhaishajya samudgate

svåhå

 

“I honour the Lord, the Master of Healing,

shining like lapis lazuli, the king, the

Tathagata, the Saint, the perfectly enlightened

one, saying OM TO THE HEALING TO THE HEALING

TO THE HEALER HAIL!

svâhâ.”

 

 

Shades of blue through the day.

T’u chüeh a border tribe near China

Türc

Turquoise: a hydrous phosphate of aluminum

  a little copper

  a little iron—

 

In the reign of the Emperor Nimmyo

when Ono-no-Komachi the strange girl poet

was seventeen, she set out looking for her father

who had become a buddhist wanderer. She took ill

on her journey, and sick in bed one night saw 

 

AZURE RADIANCE THUS-COME MEDICINE MASTER

 

in a dream. He told her she would find a hotsprings

on the bank of the Azuma river in the Bandai mountains

that would cure her; and she’d meet her father there.

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“Enchantment as strange as

the Blue up above” my rose of San Antone

 

Tibetans say that goddesses have lapis lazuli hair.

 

Azure     Old French azur.

          Persian lazhward, “lapis lazuli”

—blue bead charms against the evil eye—

 

(Tim and Kim and Don and I were talking about

what an awful authoritarian garb Doctors

and Nurses wear, really, how spooky it is.

“What should they wear?”

 

  —“masks and feathers!”)

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Ramana Maharshi Dream

 

I was working as a wood cutter by a crossroads—Ko-san

was working with me—we were sawing and splitting the

firewood. An old man came up the lane alongside a mud

wall—he shouted a little scolding at some Zen monks who

were piling slash by the edge of the woods. He came over

and chatted with us, a grizzled face—neither eastern or

western; or both. He had a glass of buttermilk in his

hand. I asked him “Where’d you get that buttermilk?”

I’d been looking all over for buttermilk. He said,

“At the O K Dairy, right where you leave town.” 

 

Medicine, measure, “Maya”—

Goddess of this vast play.

 

Celestial. arched cover. . . . kam.

Comrade: sharing the same tent or sky, 

a bent curved bow.

 

Kama, God of Love, Son of Maya,

  bow of flowers.

 

Shakyamuni would then be the lord of the present world of

sorrow;

 

Bhaishajyaguru

Yao-Shih Fo

Yakushi Nyorai,

“Old Man Medicine Buddha”

 

The lord of the lost paradise.

  (Glory of morning, pearly gates,

  tlitliltzin, the heavenly blue.)

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Thinking on Amitabha in the setting sun,

 

his western paradise—

impurities flow out away, to west,

behind us, rolling,

 

planet ball forward turns into the “east”

light-years beyond,

Great Medicine Master;

land of blue.

 

The blue sky

 

the blue sky.

 

The Blue Sky

 

is the land of

 

OLD MAN MEDICINE BUDDHA

 

where the eagle that flies out of sight



 

flies.

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