Building the cabin
The Empty Bowl (poems by Munira Judith Avinger, French translations by Hédi Mizouni, Borealis Press, 1999)
In the Buddhist tradition, the empty bowl is a metaphor for the beginner’s mind – the mind which is not filed with opinions, beliefs and prejudices, which is ready to receive the teachings. I wrote the poems in The Empty Bowl with a beginner’s mind. I had no ambitions, no preconceived ideas and no intentions concerning the poems or what would happen to them in the future. Alone in my cabin in the forest, I learned how to do nothing for long periods of time. I learned how to pay attention and how to leave space in my mind. Poems started appearing on the pages of my journal, poems which were filled with the wonder and joy I felt at having so much time alone in the forest.
There is an innocence in the poems in The Empty Bowl – an innocence which is probably possible only with the first book. When I wrote the poems, I wasn’t thinking about being published. I wasn’t thinking about marketing. I didn’t know what it would be like to take a book out in public and present it to an often indifferent world. I was just writing what came to me and totally enjoying the process.
The cabin in the forest
Lifting the Veil (poems by Munira Judith Avinger, French translations by Hédi Mizouni, Borealis Press, 2001)
Lifting the Veil is my second book and, although the forest and the cabin are still strongly present, this book also reflects the time I've spent away from the forest - out in the world, teaching writing workshops, giving readings and leading the Dances of Universal Peace. This is also the first book I wrote after being initiated into the Sufi Order International and receiving my spiritual name, Munira, which means "the one who brings the light." A spiritual name is a practice. When someone calls me Munira, I'm supposed to remember that I am working to become a person who brings the light.
By the time I put the poems together for this book, I realized that writing is also a practice, which, if done every day, will take me deeper and deeper into the reality of my life, stripping away the veils of illusion that cover that reality like the skins of an onion, which can be peeled away, one after the other, until the hidden essence of the onion is revealed in all its profound emptiness.
Julia's tree
Julia (novel by Munira Judith Avinger, illustrations by Lisa Neulicht, Borealis Press, 2003)
"Do you ever talk to trees?" I often ask this question before I do a reading from Julia, and at first I was surprised by how many people said, "Yes." Of course, I do talk to trees myself, but I'm used to being out of the mainstream. I expected people to think I was strange, but I discovered that talking to trees is actually quite common. It seems that most people sense a presence - calm, reassuring and even wise - in the trees they see every day, and it's only natural to talk to them - and to listen for their response.
One of the main characters in this book is a tree - an old maple, who actually lives in the forest not far from my cabin. He is the only character in the book who isn't fictional, and I have had many interesting conversations with him myself. Julia is a novel about two young people growing up in the middle of the forest in the Eastern Townships of Quebec. They are home schooled. They don't watch television or listen to pop music. Instead they converse with a tree and adopt an abandoned fawn. And, through their adventures, they learn the lessons of life and death and the meaning of community.
The forest in winter
Hidden (poems by Munira Judith Avinger, French translations by Hédi Mizouni, Borealis Press, 2005)
The symbol of this book is the moon. Living in the forest, I am constantly aware of the phases of the moon. When she is full, I can walk at night without a flashlight. When she is dark, I can't see anything but the dim outline of the trees. Alone in my cabin, I am aware of the creatures who hide from me, who come out only at night, who use the moon as a lamp guiding them to their prey or hiding from the predator. Sometimes I stand outside my door in the moonlight, listening to the call of the owl, the howling of the coyotes or the rustling of tiny feet in dead leaves, and I wonder how these mysterious beings see the world. The hidden is often more potent than the manifest. It guards secrets, mysteries that can be expressed only by the language of poetry. The moon represents the feminine energy present in all of us, male or female. She is reflective, receptive and ever changing as she hides and then gradually reveals her beauty.