Kerry's Wednesday Challenge ~ Running the Brush

Greetings to my fellow toads, friends, followers and wanderers. Today we will learn to dip our brushes into pots of colourful words and spread them across our blank pages.  This is the method of Zhuihitsu.


Zuihitsu (随筆) is a genre of Japanese literature consisting of loosely connected personal essays and fragmented ideas that typically respond to the author's surroundings. The name is derived from two Kanji meaning "to follow" and "brush", and thus works of the genre should be considered not as traditionally planned literary pieces but rather as casual or randomly recorded thoughts by the authors. As a genre largely focused on personal writing and contemplation, zuihitsu writings tend to explore issues reflective of attitudes pervasive at the time of their composition. Many of the works feature instances of poetry, often reflecting on typically “Japanese” themes, such as appreciation for the changing of the seasons. Additionally, Kamakura Period zuihitsu, strongly rooted in Buddhist thought, typically contains the author’s musings on the impermanence of the material world. (Wiki)

Sei Shonagon ~ Source Wiki

The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, completed in 1002, is said to be the original text from which the form derived.

So, how should we approach this style of writing? It is explained in the metaphor of the paintbrush, which is dipped into more than one colour of paint and run across the page, creating a swirling of hues and tones: allow your imagination to be the guide; follow its lead with not too firm a hand on the technical aspects of writing; forget about form and function.  Think of new ways to introduce poetical flair into every day examples of writing: the diary, the memo, the “to do” list, the email.  
This article in LITNIVOROUS may be helpful.

Compare the following examples. The first was written by Sei Shonagon, an excerpt from The Pillow Book, cited above.  The second was written by Kimiko Hahn, an excerpt from her poem Boerum Hill, Late Summer (2001) published in her poetry collection The Narrow Road to the Interior.  One thousand years separate these two poems.

In autumn, the evening – the blazing sun has sunk very close to the mountain rim, and now even the crows, in threes and fours or twos and threes, hurrying to their roost, are a moving sight. Still more enchanting is the sight of a string of wild geese in the distant sky, very tiny. And oh how inexpressible, when the sun has sunk, to hear in the growing darkness the wind, and the song of autumn insects. 
(Sei Shonagon)

41
Even in Brooklyn we hear cicadas - whose young suck the roots of
    trees for seventeen years. No curfew. No disputes.  
(Kimiko Hahn)

We may take our lead from Kimiko Hahn, who summarized zuihitsu this way: “There’s no Western equivalent [to zuihitsu], though some people might wish to categorize it as a prose poem or an essay…some of its characteristics: a kind of randomness that is not really random, but a feeling of randomness; a pointed subjectivity that we don’t normally associate with the essay. The zuihitsu can also resemble other Western forms: lists, journals. I’ve added emails to the mix.”
Read the full interview in BOMB Magazine.

I look forward to seeing how those who attempt this challenge will interpret the methodology, and follow their own creative brush strokes.