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LOOKING FOR WORDS
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps so, but many pictures don’t travel in verbose company, and there are pictures worth far, far less, although some will search until the magic thousand are found. In Japan a story can be told in seventeen syllables, a picture painted with a single brushstroke. In…
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KYOZAN PLANTS HIS MATTOCK
In your endless searchfor enlightenment,the best course, the only courseis to stop looking. It may strike you,unexpected or it mayarise without your seeingas you continue your practice. You say there are many Buddhasand you are correct, but I saythere is but one Buddha and Iam also correct, and you arethat one Buddha and I amthat…
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A PRAYER
Last night, as I sat poisedon the edge of sleep, I askedGod for continued blessings,for I have been blessed morethan I likely deserve. I heard Her reply that Iwould always have Her love,on earth and heaven, and Iknew my request, selfishfor certain, had been answered. But now I wonder if it wastruly She or your…
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THE CAT
Pause and consider, if onlyfor a moment, this question,which you need not answeras you will be right andyou will be wrong regardlessof what you say in response. What if we are the cat insome Godly thought experimentand our degradation of the planetis the bit of radioactive material,of which we have in profusion. Are we alive,…
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MARVEL
We are, after all, merely humanso we are fraught with questionsand lacking answers, willingto take things on faith on occasion. Take God, for example, althoughsome say He is uniquely exemplary,we want to know if God is a he,a she, or to cover all our bases, a they. And when we ask for a sign weoften…
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UMMON’S TWO SICKNESSES
As you wanderyour path, what is itthat you search for? When you seekinstruction from a masterwhat is it you expecthim to provide you? When you sitstill on the cushionyou may find a momentof kensho, butlabeling that momentdestroys it. Enlightenment cannotbe describedfor attaching wordsbrings it to the groundas rubble aroundyour feet. A reflection on Case 11…
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CELESTIAL RHYTHM
It was a certain rhythm that he loved,one he felt it in total silence, yet it fadedin the presence of sound, a doumbekof the soul he would describe it. He remembered how it was beforetheir one god rendered him and his kindmere mythological creatures fit onlyfor poetry and dusty library shelves. He would have his…
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A WELL REHEARSED SILENCE
Of course there is something I oughtto say, moments like this require it,it goes without saying, painfully. I practiced lines for hours, rehearsedin my dreams for weeks, knewfor years I’d be rendered mute. My tongue swells, threateningto escape my mouth or take refugedeep within my esophagus. Your silence is only compoundingmy anxiety, how can I,…
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OR CUT BAIT
They sit or stand patientlyon the jetty, a concrete pathjutting out into the ocean. The old timers have twolines out, bait bucketsitting in the bicycle-wheeledcart parked on the edgeof the jetty’s bouldered margin. You don’t ask what they’vecaught, that would be obvious,and you know they are here forthe act of fishing, and the catchis that…
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HE WHO LAUGHS LAST
The moon was kind enoughto linger this morning,knowing that I wanteda photograph, and thatI needed sufficient ambientlight to allow meto fully capture her visage.Sometimes she rises earlyand shows her facebefore the sun retreats.I suppose it may justbe vanity on the moon’s part,showing off for her brightersibling, certain I will neverpause to photograph Sol.Tomorrow it will…
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an old writer and his words 