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A MOVING MIND 無門關 二十九
Do not be a foolish monk stare up at the sky is that could moving? The leaves dance on the morning breeze, is the wind moving? take a picture of the tree a moment of time frozen There is no motion of the tree, none of the wind only the mind moves. A reflection on…
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VERITÉ
Only in a French movie does a girl stand on a bridge threatening to jump or not and weave a story that so draws us in that by the end, when the couple is together, she now pulling him from the same brink we almost forget that the movie was in a language neither of…
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KEYS
He sits, suited in black, with 88 keys at his command, and we fall silent. He opens the lock of joy, the lock of sadness, the lock of elation, the lock of tears, the lock of laughter, the lock of darkness, the lock of light, the lock of surprise, the lock of compassion, the lock…
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HIGH WIRE
It is a precarious balance, really, more an exercise in tottering and hearing than in standing still. Some prefer stasis, others, I included, find that leads inevitably to a loss of energy, to an entropy from which it is difficult to escape. I don’t walk along the edge of the precipice, but I do. peer…
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ADAGE
You want to yell at him, tell him to stop, that it is too soon, that he is not ready, cannot be, won’t be for months to come, but you know he will not listen to you standing, gesticulating, imagining a stone in your hand, shattering the glass walls, the crackling, gaining his full attention…
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MORNING READING
You read the obituaries every day not only for the affirmation that you are not listed among them The key five words there are not only for the affirmation, particularly upon hearing the gentle man you liked, that you valued as a friend and craftsman is gone, but you didn’t say goodbye, that you thought…
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BLIND SEARCH
She wants to know where to look and thinks it must be either without or within, she assumes a Christian looks outward, a Buddhist within, and every other faith either aligns with one or plumbs the middle. She is searching for the answer to the inevitable question, the question that cannot be answered. She asks…
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DRY CREEK 鐵笛倒吹 四十
When you are parched and come upon a dry creek bed will you assume there is water flowing freely beneath the soil and rocks, and how will you drink it? If you give up your thirst your attachment to life may wash downstream and the bitter waters may run both sweet and deep. You may…
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WEAVING
She plucks the odd loose thread puts it on the table and finds another and a bit of what could be twine. She weaves them together loosely, with seeming abandon until they are an ill formed braid barely hanging together, a jumble of color and fabric, a true hodge-podge. But when she says to all…
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WINTER MEMORY
As I stare out the window and watch the snow slowly build on the limbs of the now barren sugar maple, painting it with a whiteness that bears heavily giving the smaller branches a better view of the ground in which their fruit of the summer lies buried. I am forced to wonder if the…
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an old writer and his words 