an old writer and his words

  • MORNING, ATTENDANT

    Morning would find him sitting calmly, cross-legged, under the apple tree that sat on the edge of the park, staring up at a small branch and carefully watching the bud begin to open, ignoring all who passed. Morning would find him sitting calmly, cross-legged, under the apple tree watching the fragile blossom open, staring at…

    Lou Faber

  • SHISHUANG’S THIS SIDE AND THAT SIDE

    You like being here, but you suspect you would like being there as well, if not more than being here. This puzzles you, for you fear leaving here to go there, in case when you arrive there you don’t like being there and would rather be here. You should sit and ponder which is better…

    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

  • THIRD EYE, NEEDING GLASSES

    You ask me what is the first thing I can remember, and seem surprised when I tell you memory is much like a Buddhist river, never the same twice. Memory is a stage and I am one to forget my lines, today it’s the window in the back of a Miami Beach bus amazed at…

    Lou Faber

  • ATOP THE POLE 無門關 四十六

    Sitting atop a hundred foot pole you are convinced there are only two directions: pole and down. Old Osho asks: “How will you proceed?” and you stare back at this lunatic. “How will you proceed?” he repeats. You release the pole and step slowly away, looking in all ten directions before you, only then do…

    Lou Faber

  • HARMONY

    A young woman steps from the shower and wraps herself in a large blue towel. “I don’t want you to see me,” she says, to the young man standing in the door of the small bathroom, “look away for now.” He reminds her they are married. She says, “One thing has nothing to do with…

    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

  • STATUS QUO

    It does so little good to wonder why things are not           as I wish them           as they should be           as they seem to me           as they once were. Things always are, either more nor less,…

    Lou Faber

  • KANNON’S STATUE

    If you meet the Bodhisattva you don’t ask someone to carve the image from your mind. To the carver, she weighs but an ounce and can be carried on his fingertip but try and lift her and you will not be able to move her from her place. All Buddhas are one Buddha but his…

    Lou Faber