an old writer and his words

  • ABIDING NATURE

    The abiding Buddha natureof birds is demonstratedby their calm ability to carryon conversations in the presenceof interacting humans, whoare too often deaf to the soundsin which nature immerses them. But when we speak to the birdsin a crude facsimile of theirnative chirp, caw and trill,they pause to listen, strainto understand us, wishingonly to let us…

    Lou Faber

  • AN AWAKENING

    Take one partGrand Marnier, oneFrangelico, a short cupof coffee, whipped creamonly if you wish,curl on the sofawith your life’sgreatest loveand your firstreal, truly yourfirst Christmas Evemakes you wonderwhy you waitedso long. First published in The Poet: Christmas (2020 United Kingdom)

    Lou Faber

  • ONE STEP TOO FAR

    “As you get older,” he said,“the body grows remarkablyadept at telling you whenyou have done too much,or done something you shouldn’t.” What he didn’t say, the criticalpiece of advice I wish I heard,is that the body only speakswell after the fact, a lecturesurely, but never a warning. No one wants to go a stepshort, to…

    Lou Faber

  • FROM THERE

    The middle, she said, is whatis all important, for everythingextends from that precise point. It’s something we learnedas children, a lesson sittingin every good playground. Buddhists know it certainly,it is the way we want to find,the route to peace and compassion. And let’s face it, when it comesto everything, we all knowthat’s the place you…

    Lou Faber

  • TAIGEN FANS HIMSELF 正法眼蔵 三十二

    When a leaf leaves the treeit falls precisely where it should.When a flower petal is carriedoff on a strong wind itcomes to rest in the proper place.When you smell the sweet aromaof next summer’s rosesuse the nose you hadbefore your parents were born. A reflection on case 32 of Dogen’s Shobogenzo (The True Dharma Eye)…

    Lou Faber

  • NIGHT APPROACHES

    The clouds this eveningare the deep gray that so longto be black, but the retreatedsun just below the horizonlingers long enough to deny them. The space, shrinking, betweenthe clouds, is the gray of promisethat the night will soon deny,and the birds who take overthe preserve, chant their vespers,each in his or her own language,uncommon tongues…

    Lou Faber

  • KENSHO

    Tonight, if all goes well, I will bea monk in a good-sized Buddhist temple.I am hoping it will be in Nara,at Todai-ji perhaps, or Asakusaat Senso-ji, or better still somewherein Kyoto, although it might well bein the Myanmar jungle or somewheredeep within the Laotian highlands. One problem with that world isthat I have no control…

    Lou Faber

  • ERSE WHILE

    Growing up, I never imaginedthat I was Lithuanian, I mean Imight have as easily been from Mars. And it was only in my dreamsthat Gaelic was an ancestral tongue,not one my ancestors spoke,at least those who hadn’t yetmade the unthinkable moveto Norfolk and the frigid sea. Now I am all of those, and I knowthat…

    Lou Faber

  • FOOTHILLS

    The clouds well upover the foothillscasting a gray pall,bearing the angry spiritsof the chindi who danceamid the scrub juniper.Brother Serra, was thiswhat you found, wanderingalong the coast, tendingthe odd sheep, Indianand whatever elsecrossed your path? The blue birdhopping across the dried grassespuffing its grey breastplate and capesitting back, its long tail feathersa perfect counterbalance.It stares…

    Lou Faber

  • ETA

    So many of the late arrivals tonightare egrets, the Cattles long inamong the reeds and brush sharingspace, only reluctantly, with the ibis. It is their snowy cousins who arriveas the horizon is a fading bandof orange gold dissipating under thefaint, unyielding eye of Venus,and seem shocked when theyare turned away with flap of wingand cry,…

    Lou Faber