an old writer and his words

  • FISHING

    Many years ago, I would sit in a small boat and drop my hook into the river, and wait for the bass to strike. Those were the days when a large enough fish would be served at dinner, and smaller fish were thrown back to heal in the water. I no longer fish but the…

    Lou Faber

  • GOLDEN MIRAGE

    Another day attempts to slide by in the shadows, avoiding capture by pen and journal, fleeing into night where November clouds provide infinite hiding places. Or, perhaps, it will find shelter in the blinding golden glare of Pan Wat Lao Buddhadam, that appears mystically out of the Henrietta field. It’s monk smiles, knowing so very…

    Lou Faber

  • DUSK

    As the afternoon fades, the gray of the sky deepens, the crows gather in the highest branches of the older trees, until the leafless branches seems suddenly burdened with great black leaves. As the already waning light fades they take up their hymns to the passing day, approaching night, and we wait patiently amid the cacophony…

    Lou Faber

  • ESSHŌ’S PATH 正法眼蔵 三十七

    If you are seeking the way do not consult a map and most certainly do not follow in the footsteps of the wisest person. Do not ever ask directions for it is only when you are utterly lost and have no idea which way to go, that your every step is a step along the…

    Lou Faber

  • SIGNS OF AGE

    1. I wrote a note to remind me to remind you of that thing you didn’t want to forget, but I can’t remember where I put it. Have you seen it? 2. I am rapidly approaching that point when counting black hairs on my head is easier then counting years. 3. This year I finally…

    Lou Faber

  • MUSHOTOKU

    We spend far too much time clinging to what was as the flames fade, and far too little time feeding the fire and grasping what can be, what is.

    Lou Faber

  • CANYON

    He stands  on the edge of the canyon and peers into the river etched below. At first you think he is considering jumping, but his gaze is too studious, as if he is waiting for some particular moment. You are correct, he is waiting for a particular moment and when it arrives he shouts at…

    Lou Faber

  • DRAGON HOWLING IN A WITHERED TREE 正法眼蔵 二十八

    Cut the hook off the line and throw it into the lake, dump the bait container onto the damp soil along the shore. Now sit silently in the oarless boat in the middle of the lake and drop your line and wait for the dragon to bite. And when it does, yell at it, hear…

    Lou Faber

  • HISTORY AS IT WAS?

    The reason the Jews spent forty years wandering in the desert had nothing to do with bad directions, or generational turnover, according to Larry’s father who worked in advertising. It was quite simply because God got really pissed off at Aaron’s marketing plan, “A Golden Calf, my ass!” is what he probably said. “I had better…

    Lou Faber

  • THROUGH GAIJIN EYES

    1. From the window of the hotel bus the small, squared fields are a green that only painters achieve, deep, intense, unreal. As the bus inches forward along the Narita–Tokyo expressway the green forms neat rows set off by a shimmer of the gray sky mirror that bathes the young plants. 2. Tokyo is a…

    Lou Faber