Disclosures of the Lotus Mirror
Thursday, September 9, 2010 Li Ho, a 9th century Chinese poet observed:
Hsi-shih dreams at dawn, in the cool of silk curtains:
A tress has slipped from the scented knot over the fading rouge,
The pulley creaks at the well, winds up with a jade tinkle
And startles awake the lotus which has just slept its fill.
Two birds on the flaps disclose the mirror, an autumn sunlit pool.
She loosens the knots and looks down in the mirror […]
Her toilet done, the dressed hair slants and does not sag.
She […] turns away, still without speaking. What has caught her eye?
She goes down the steps and picks up the cherry flowers.
So, what’s the story here: a girl, named Hsi-shih, is asleep, the sound of the water-well outside awakens her and, it so happens, also startles a couple of birds off the surface of the pond; once awake, the girl fixes her hair that she didn’t mind while she was asleep and notices cherry flowers. Sounds like your typical privileged morning in the 9th century China. Why write a poem about it? I don’t know. I am not Li Ho.
But here’s why I am writing about this poem. Here’s what it means to me. Let’s take it a stanza at a time.
Hsi-shih dreams at dawn, in the cool of silk curtains:
A tress has slipped from the scented knot over the fading rouge,
The pulley creaks at the well, winds up with a jade tinkle
And startles awake the lotus which has just slept its fill.
Notice that the poet gives this girl two names – her given name, His-shih, and then a metaphorical name, “the lotus.” Lotus in Asia has long been a sacred symbol. As I see it, divinity aside, lotus represents consciousness. Indeed, the sound of the well awakens the consciousness. And a sleeping beauty comes alive. If we strip this poem down to its basic philosophical meaning, all that happens here is that a mind is awakened.
Metaphorically, a lotus blossoms. Let’s see what happens next in the poem to see what happens next when a mind awakens:
Two birds on the flaps disclose the mirror, an autumn sunlit pool.
All of a sudden, Li Ho switches focus: the poem is no longer about the girl, it’s about the fact that two birds, also startled by the sound of the well-chain, fly off the surface of the pond “to disclose” a mirror. What a mysterious detour! What’s this about?
I have no idea, but here’s how I see it. Li Ho is telling us about what happens when the mind awakens: it becomes self-reflective. Indeed, in sleep, the girl was one with reality, not even aware of the hair that had fallen on her face. But once immediately awake and self-aware she checks the mirror of her consciousness and… fixes herself up.
She loosens the knots and looks down in the mirror […]
Her toilet done, the dressed hair slants and does not sag.
Self-awareness is self-correcting, which is a sleep of yet another kind. The lotus – having briefly bloomed – is closing again. The mind, having seen itself in the mirror of its own consciousness, starts correcting itself. Only to be once again awakened by another input from reality:
She […] turns away, still without speaking. What has caught her eye?
She goes down the steps and picks up the cherry flowers.
The lotus blooms again: instead of correcting one’s own reflection in the mirror, the mind is once again awakened to its own presence by a little nudge from reality. First, reality tickled the mind with the sounds of the well, now it has roused the mind with the stimulation of the cherry blossom.
And so it goes, from sleep to wakefulness, from sleep to wakefulness. The lotus of self seems to be in the best of blooms when engaged with whatever is, rather than trying to polish its reflection in the mirror.
My only hope is that Hsi-shih doesn’t pick the cherry blossoms and doesn’t return back to her mirror to use them as a garland on her dress. Whatever it is that we are, we certainly are not the reflection disclosed in the mirror.
Of course, there are a million ways to read and interpret Li Ho’s poem or my interpretation of it. Your time to reflect.