an old writer and his words

  • SUN-FACED BUDDHA, MOON-FACED BUDDHA

    Life is joy and pain, two sides, one coin – death is caused by birth – stop and consider this. Look into the face of the evening sun, will it retreat from your eyes or linger in memory? Look into the face of the full midnight moon, does she have the sun’s face only until…

    Lou Faber

  • HIERARCHY

    The buildings, great towers overlook the city. The hills, torn from the earth, peer down at the towers lights twinkling. The stars, sliding across the dome of night, watch over the hills. The child, for whom all is wonder, grasps the stars in small fingers.

    Lou Faber

  • DUAL SINGULARITY

    Stare at white sand surrounding the polished stone, listen to the earth. The stone knows no pain falling to the pond’s bottom, ripples comfort it.

    Lou Faber

  • HOPI DREAMING

    Look to the East stare at the sky and feel the winds carry away the snow which paints our lands and shrouds our ancestors in a mantle of white. Look to the South see the waters of the river flowing gently to the horizon bringer of the fish spirits, its azure waters washing away to…

    Lou Faber

  • THOUGHT HARBOR

    I harbored the thought one day becoming a monk, and not only because saffron robes would be well within my usual color choices. I knew it was a pipe dream, I love, too deeply, to disavow, life and I’m sure my past lives wouldn’t take all that long to catch up with me, karma can…

    Lou Faber

  • AT THE BORDER

    Out at the edge of the universe, time has no beginning and stretches endlessly, as a stone dropped, its ripples spreading outward across a shoreless lake. There is no time here at the margin, no space consumed by all space. I would touch the edge and press it outward disrupting balance until it all draws…

    Lou Faber

  • OCTOBER

    There is an infinite space inside an atom, a massive void into which universes tumble and stars and planets are born. Outside, the maple leaves burning flame and crimson spiral to the lawn, which waits to receive them. Autumn is the season when the earth prepares to die and it is left to us to…

    Lou Faber

  • MORE MUSIC OF THE FLUTE

    SANSHO MEETS A STUDENT                               鐵笛倒吹 十二 One goes to the gate to welcome the new student and with a broad smile turns his back in silence, offering nothing. Another will not leave the Zendo, sitting in stillness at the sound…

    Lou Faber

  • PROPRIETY OF MORNING

    There is a propriety of morning that appears denied to the rest of day, escaping Luna’s grasp the sun can sing in a voice deep in prayer and yet at play. The lives that quietly left in the night are balanced by the days measure of births but at dawn when the sun throws off…

    Lou Faber

  • SENBAZURU

    A thousand cranes take flight hanging from the ceiling under the watchful eye the old Japanese man framed on my wall and the Buddha staring down from my dresser.

    Lou Faber