an old writer and his words

  • 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

  • PADDIES

    At first it is a checkerboard of ponds neatly arrayed, reflecting the sun, the work of man, for God so rarely plays geometrician with creation, less often still using right angles. Soon enough green blades reach up through the shirred surface, random, reaching for a sun they can never touch. Later, it is a field,…

    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

  • HUI CH’AO ASKS ABOUT BUDDHA

    When you look in the mirror do you hope to see yourself, and who is that face that stares back? If you turn out the light, are you still there in the mirror, or has the illusion of you disappeared? If you crack the mirror, do you feel the pain of the scar across your…

    Lou Faber

  • VERITAS

    It is the promise of the grape that lures us, that allows us to imagine the glass stained purple, or a deep golden yellow, an alluring pink. It may be accompanied by words that suggest the approach of a moment not to be forgotten, deep, vibrant, tobacco, stone fruit, a veritable catalog to entice us,…

    Lou Faber

  • DREAM

    She took the flower, placed it gently, arranged just so, between the pages of the giant tome, and closed the book setting it carefully back on the shelf where it would remain until someone, seeing its leathered spine might pull it out, blow off the dust and open to that page, and look into her…

    Lou Faber

  • STARING AT NIRVANA

    The great blue heron stares at the shirred surface of the pond, paying no attention to the ibis pecking around her, ignoring the traffic passing on the road, pausing now and again to marvel how the humans on foot and in cars cannot see that on a November day the quiet stillness of the water…

    Lou Faber

  • 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