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ON 15 YEARS
Today is my 15th wedding anniversary, and that merits a special posting to the person who has completed me in ways I never imagined possible. The sheer inadequacy of words is made painfully manifest today. I grasp at words: love, passion, joy and each still falls short of its intended mark. There is a moment…
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WHAT DO YOU SAY
What do you say to those who turn their backs on those broken in battle, or broken at the sight of battle, who were left to clean up the collateral damage, or who were collateral damage, were pierced by IED’s, or shaped charges, who had inadequate armor, or no armor at all, who were left…
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NOT HERE
Between now and eventually lies all of history. We are unable to see it though it lies in our field of vision. That’s the problem, we only know how to look backward. We are barely able to see where we are. It isn’t that we don’t want to be here, merely that here is difficult…
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WHERE?
Set aside for a moment the sheer insanity of it all. Pretend that this is not your concern, it is merely something that you inherited, never wanted, would gladly part with on the simplest of requests you doubt will ever be forthcoming. Is this why you treasure it and cling to it so tightly or…
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SEKITO’S ASK THE PILLAR 正法眼蔵 四十一
If you want an answer do not ask a question – your answer cannot be mine nor can mine be yours. Instead, ask the stone wall, it has nothing to say and in its perfect silence all questions are asked and all answers are found. A reflection on Case 41 of the Shobogenzo, Dogen’s True…
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ADIRONDACK EVENING
Atop the hill the trees are filigree against the fading light. The tents are fireflies twinkling as night reclaims the earth. I am caught up in the chill watching my breath kiss the stars. First Appeared in Blueline, Vol. 22, 2001. Reprinted in Legal Studies Forum, Vol. 29, No. 1, 2005
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THREE
Ginkgo trees laden with leaves fanning the dawn sun Seeds lie in waiting The morning bell sounds the monks pause from their labors Buddha sits zazen The wall does not move only the breath is moving count it carefully
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UNDER THE WEIGHT
My shelves grow heavy with volumes of words I wish I had written, neatly bound up in books that stare at me, at once bidding me welcome and challenging me to enter. One shelf is set aside for books of pages, blank, on which I have written each day now for three and a half…
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EARLY MORNING
Early this morning as I drove through the mist that clings to Portland in March like a child’s yellow slicker, I thought of you, home, asleep on our bed, my side tidy, no faint indentation of life, and I thought of the thousands who have died to date in Iraq, who never again will leave…
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SLIP SLIDING AWAY
There comes a moment at which both memory and history become blurred at the edges, where the bedrock on which belief has been so carefully erected seems more magma, shifting threatening to bring down the superstructure of desire and assumption. It is the fading that is at once both fear inducing and exhilarating for faith…
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an old writer and his words 