The Blue Centerlight


“Girl Playing Guitar by Firelight”  |  Anthony Satori

“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!'”

— Jack Kerouac


BlogImage - SatoriCircleDotCom - June 18 2016

“Locomotive”  |  Anthony Satori

“I walked on the banks of the tin-can banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box-house hills and cry.  Jack Kerouac sat beside me… companion… we thought the same thoughts of the soul… surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of the trees of machinery.”

— Alan Ginsberg

It is okay to feel sad, sometimes.  It is a normal and healthy part of life.  But don’t plan to stay there.  Be ready to move through it, like a locomotive.  Remember that sadness is not who you are.  You are Spirit.  You are Joy.  You are Light.  You were created to be the reflection and the conduit of everything that is Good in the Universe.  You were created to be the eyes, the ears, the pleasure, and the laughter of God.


By the Sigh of the Sea

BlogImage - SatoriCircleDotCom - May 14 2016

“By the Sigh of the Sea”  |  Anthony Satori

“Happy.  Just in my swim shorts, barefooted, wild-haired, in the red fire dark, singing, swigging wine, spinning, jumping, running—that’s the way to live… free, in the soft sands of the beach, by the sigh of the sea out there.”

— Jack Kerouac

Embrace life, every moment of it.  Immerse yourself in the wonder of it all.  Pursue the sublime, it is hiding behind every corner, and it desires nothing more than to be sought, found and inhaled by you.


Gary Snyder, Zen Poet

“Gary Snyder,  Zen Poet”  |  Santa Barbara, California, 2015  |  Anthony Satori

“In the mountains, there you feel free.”

— T. S. Eliot

Campbell Hall, UCSB, California, November, 2015

It is an odd juxtaposition to watch a poet whose primary subject matter is nature, mountains and wilderness put on a tie, stand at a podium, and talk about his work in one of the least wilderness-like places conceivable: a university lecture hall.  You get the feeling of a creature out if his element, a proverbial fish-out-of-water… handling the environment with admirable aplomb, yet periodically, and involuntarily, gasping for air. 

The evening began strangely enough, with Snyder delivering a seemingly unprovoked 20-minute lecture on how we (the audience) were all inept at water conservation — although arguably from a place of authority, since he does live on a self-sustaining commune. 

This was followed (thankfully) by some enjoyable, yet seemingly random, readings of poetry from some of his more obscure collections (oddly excluding both the entire “Beat Generation” era and his most recent book release). 

The event then proceeded to attain new heights of awkwardness upon the introduction of an inexplicably antagonistic interviewer. To paraphrase a sample exchange:  Interviewer: “One farmer said that he grew the best oranges by looking at everyone around him and doing exactly the opposite of what they did.  Is this essentially what you are doing on the commune?”  Snyder: “No.  We’re not that dumb.”  Ouch. 

Almost regardless of venue, however, to hear a veritable institution of literature speak, read and discuss poetry and articulate his views on writing and life is a worthy experience.  Up until now, Gary Snyder has inhabited the status of an almost quasi-fictional Beat Poet/Zen Madman character to me, someone who existed only on the pages of Jack Kerouac novels and in my imagination.  Now, by virtue of this experience, his glowing apparition has been immortalized in my mind, and has, simultaneously, been made real.