an old writer and his words

  • ASK OF THE SEA

    When you ask me of the sea,living, as I do, fifteen milesfrom the nearest ocean, itis not the sandy beachesof Hutchinson Island I recall,nor the crowded sandboxthat is Fort Lauderdale’s beach. If you ask me of the sea,it is perched on the horizon,far in the distance, lookingout of the kitchen window,or perhaps that of the…

    Lou Faber

  • MONA

    Of course, she’s sitting there,calmly, staring off onto space.She has to know somethingis amiss, no one has cometo visit her in days, but sheknows that whenever, if ever,whatever it is that is happeningis finally over, that theywill once again return, stareat her, wonder aloud and silentlywhy she is smiling, and shewill as always say nothing,…

    Lou Faber

  • MINDFUL(L)

    The Buddha said that any task you doif done mindfully is a sort of meditation.We assume he said it, we’ve been toldhe did, but no one I know was anywherenear that bodhi tree, so we take it on faith.When it comes to things like choppinglarge quantities of onions, or roastingcoffee beans I totally get it,…

    Lou Faber

  • WIEN

    We were walking around Vienna, Wien,the river cruise boat arriving early, dropped off into the city center, toldwe had precisely two hours to wander,or we’d make our own way back,and risk missing lunch and the formal tour. We wandered, following instructions,looking in vain for a café where wecould get an Austrian cappuccino, and perhapsa pastry…

    Lou Faber

  • PANDEMIC DREAMS

    What I most want to do now,locked in by something unseen,is to wander the streets of citieshere, Europe, it hardly matters,and find statues whose plaquesare worn away or gone missing,now nameless souls of oncelesser fame meriting a bronzeor of such ego as donatingtheir own image to the town. They are forgotten souls, oftenrightfully so no…

    Lou Faber

  • NAMASTE

    There was a time, still withinmemory’s ever more tenuous graspthat I imagined myself, at this age,as a monk in a Buddhist templein Kyoto, that I had assumed a silenceimposed by lack of language, not faith. I am certain that the Japaneseare pleased that I let that dreampass unfulfilled, that I confinemy practice to that American…

    Lou Faber

  • 詩

    The Japanese inventedhaiku certain that a paintingof great beauty couldbe completed with onlya few strokes of the brush. The Japanese have no wordfor what we claim is higherorder poetry, academic andpedantic are two other Englishwords which easily apply.And the Japanese are hard putto comprehend so much of whatwe deem experimental, the result,a friend named Yoshi…

    Lou Faber

  • AN AFTERNOON STROLL

    There are three of themand they walk slowly along the sideof the road, proud yes, but are theyold men who see no need to hurry,or self-assumed royalty who dare not. Nor is it clear if they are the samegroup who gathered outsidethe ornate gateway into PGA Villagetwo weeks ago, perhaps tired ofthe endless greens fees…

    Lou Faber

  • ROADS

    The problem with roadsis that they all must leadsomewhere, and if lucky, withother theres along the way. I prefer roads that haveno beginnings or ends,that go where they willand change direction on a whim. On my roads you neverarrive late because thereis no point at which to arrive,so you are always timely. Friends laugh when…

    Lou Faber

  • GENSHA’S BLANK LETTER 正法眼蔵 四十八

    If you wish to find the Wayfollow the signs that read“This Is Not the Path” orat least some of them.If you ask me directionsI will hand you a blank sheetand ask you whatdoes it contain.You may say it is voidand you would be correct,or you may say itis a thousand dharma textsand you would be…

    Lou Faber