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DISCOVERY
In a small storefront, in an older neighborhood of the city, I found it. Sepia coated with a fine sheen of dust and neglect, it lay on the table amid a stack of others, as though a leaf of phyllo in a poorly made stack fresh from the oven. I knew it as I looked…
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TRANSITIONS
Dusk is that hour when the mind and eyes mark the slow transition from light to dark. As day slides off, things that were obvious, things that once were simple, grow in complexity until the intricacy threatens to overwhelm you. When night fully settles, sanity returns grudgingly and the memory of dusk is but a…
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PEACE MANDALA
The saffron robed monks stoop carefully, dropping single grains of colored sand onto the mandala of peace. They rock gently as the intricate wheel takes shape and form. They are drawn to its center, closer day by day, countless hours focussed to a singularity. They interlace fingers bow a collective head and pray silently for…
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A POET IS
A poet is a child who on seeing a blank page must fill it with dreams hears the song of the nightingale in the din of passing traffic comforts the lonely mother recalling the pain of a thousand births sees in each passing cloud the tears of a generation feels the heat of the sun…
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JOSHU’S FOUR GATES 正法眼蔵 四十六
If you ask me who I am, I will have you close your eyes and walk behind you, or I may step to your left and take your right hand. If you are perplexed, I will ask you: do the four gates open into the city or out to the world beyond, and if I…
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SEOUL: A TALE OF TWO CITIES
Namdaeman is a ghetto of shops and stalls, where men squat cupping cigarettes and gesture, their hands grasping stacks of bills, rocking on their heels until they leap up to a patron, asking this price or that, assessing the will of the buyer by the thickness of his or her wallet. An old woman sits…
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THE RIVER
The river, flowing through the heart of the city never pauses to note the cafés and shops lining its banks. The couple in the wine bar look out over the river’s waters but can not imagine the sea. Among them, river, man and woman a thousand stories will go untold.
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FINDING A DIAMOND 沙石集 二
There are endless paths on which to walk, yet we find one and remain on it even when it becomes rocky and rutted. We do not see the road, nor those who cross it, watching only our feet. It is only when we step off of the cliff that our feet are free to walk…
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MANDALA
Day one, and they are hunched over the mat meticulously drawing faintly on its deep blue surface. Day two and sitting, leaning forward they precisely place the first grains of sand. Day three, the same and the picture begins to emerge though they dare not breathe. Day upon day, minute upon minute hours on end…
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THREE VIEWS: WINTER
the ghosts of morning cast their spell over the sun joyous winter smiles first snow of winter white coated Buddha dreaming of chrysanthemums each flake different a billion unique moments a Buddhist season
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an old writer and his words 