an old writer and his words

  • ASHES TO DUST

    The dolphin is born of the water, the man born of the fire and of the earth. The dolphin swims unrestrained, the man chooses to live in the city of Afterlife, focussed on impending rebirth. The dolphin stares up in wonder at the amassing clouds, the man curses the sky shielding him from heaven. The dolphin…

    Lou Faber

  • REFLECTING ON THE HARBOR

    On the anniversary of the start of a war one feels almost compelled to speak to its horrors, its cause, its effect. But we live in an age where wars are plentiful, when peace is the exception and war seems to loom around every corner. So on this anniversary I watch the snowy egret stare…

    Lou Faber

  • A SIMPLE QUESTION

    A woman walks up to me and asks, “can you juggle the salt and pepper shakers?” but I know what she really wants is for me to bind her wounds and drag the sun quickly from the horizon. I pick up two apples and a plum but the plum falls to the floor and rolls…

    Lou Faber

  • PERCEPTION

    The sweep of the second hand, the minute hand is constant, each moment as long as the last, none longer, none shorter and yet I know that Einstein was right in noting that things unpleasant take forever, while all that is joyful passes quickly, even when the elapsed time is the same. What Albert didn’t…

    Lou Faber

  • HUANG PO’S GOBBLERS OF DREGS

    You have heard that when the student is ready the teacher appears, and you believe you are ready, but no teacher has appeared. I can tell you that you are ready, that you will never be ready, that I am not the teacher, that the teacher is here, that the teacher will never appear. The…

    Lou Faber

  • CONTEMPLATING

    She stands on the bridge and stares down into the slowly flowing river. She wonders what it might feel like to climb the railing and pushing off, gain flight. The river would welcome her, enfold her, carry her to its heart. She will not leap this day just as she did not the day before,…

    Lou Faber

  • HOLY QUEST

    He says, “I have looked for God or at least for signs of a holy presence but I haven’t found any yet.” She says, “How would you know if you saw God, in a church or in the checkout line at the grocers?” He says, “That’s a good question, I suppose he’d look something like…

    Lou Faber

  • RETURN FROM NINEVAH

    Jonah, what color is the sun at dawn?           Black as the night preceding it Jonah, what is the odor of spring?           That of rotting rincinus Jonah, what shall we say to a crying baby?           The gates of Ninevah will be…

    Lou Faber

  • KINKA’S ANCIENT MIRROR

    A river may rub a stone until it reflects the morning sun. A jeweler may polish it and facet it until it shatters the light in ten directions. A wise man knows it is still the same stone.   A reflection on Shobogenzo Case 117

    Lou Faber

  • DREAMS

    Somewhere, tonight a bagpiper is playing., Notes from the drone and chanters lick the sky, piercing passing clouds, embedding themselves in the stars. Somewhere else a flute player fingers the stops as notes pour forth and dance on the moonlit lawn. Neither piper nor flautist hear each other, but I weave both into a song,…

    Lou Faber