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A MONK IN MEDITATION 鐵笛倒吹 七十語
A man may own may volumes of great knowledge and never have time to read. An illiterate may take such books and fashion a stool on which to sit in meditation. Which of these is truly wise which the greatest fool. Wipe your mouth with this page at the conclusion of the meal. A reflection…
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RAKUSU
The last stitch is sewn, the loose threads trimmed, the pincushioned fingers are swaddled in bandages, bits of brown thread plucked from sofa, rug and shirt. It is done, save for every other stitch you now want to pull and resew, the mocking voice of the needle convincing you otherwise. All that is left is…
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PRACTICE
It always seems odd that the teacher asks me to think about my practice when the heart of my practice is learning how not to always think about things. But the heart of practice is exactly these oddities, for nothing is exact. In the fourth vow I strive to attain the great way of Buddha,…
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HARMONY
Lao Tse, venerable one you would be pleased as I sit here drawing closer to the center quested for my Buddhahood be not seeking it amid the rain of fire from the hills above the blood congealing in the streets. I know not to ask and am unseen by the child and mother running through…
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A MISTAKE IN SPEAKING 無門關 三十九
When you speak the words of the Buddha you are lost. Light is everywhere in silence but the tongue must hide in the dark of the mouth. Buddha’s words are flowers unfolding in the dawn by the side of the still pond, the eyes hear the song and respond in silent chorus. A reflection on…
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SATORI
The empty wine bottle nestling the foot of the postal box wants nothing more that to speak its mind but it is forsworn to silence, and stares into the old Maytag box tucked in the alley next to the dumpster. The bedraggled man sits against the wall and debates the meaning of knowledge with the…
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FIFTY-ONE SYLLABLES (3 HAIKU)
Trapped in cloud sandwich above is white, below white up, down disappear The garden Buddha slowly gathers moss as we watch summer fading. In the sun’s harsh glare the water lilies turn their back on the sleeping pond.
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MEDITATION
Sitting cross-legged on the floor staring into the pristine moon I hear the wailing of the dog next door, his mantra engulfs mine and I slide away braying at the moon.
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BUDDHIST ENTOMOLOGY
One of the hardest things about being a Buddhist are the insects. Setting aside their sentiency, insects are a true test of our ability to honor the first of the four vows, for while moths can be captured in cupped hands, the karmic dilemma of how to deal with a spider that refuses to crawl…
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FUJI
Looking out the window of the Osaka bound train at the great snow-covered mountain I saw, for just a moment my face on its slopes. Staring down at the train hurtling across the fields, the great Fuji smiled briefly before returning to its stony stare.
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an old writer and his words 