They gather this time every week,
they would feel lost if they did otherwise.
The don’t do it out of any sense of duty
or higher calling, and they expect
nothing in return for having done so.
They aren’t even following directions
or obeying some unwritten rule.
They object to most rules,
demand logic before even pausing
to consider requests for action.
Holidays do throw off their schedule
but they work around them as best they can.
Theirs is a joyous group
and only the swings groan
under their laughter as their feet
reach up to kick the clouds,
before night falls on the playground.




The hardest prison to escape
is the one whose walls are built
by the mind in fear and trepidation.
It is like the open gate you dare
not enter fearing that you are leaving
and will not be allowed to return.
Atop a pole there are
an infinite number of directions
in which you can go and only one
is straight down, but you fear
selecting any, for gravity
is a fear as great as death,
yet you can feel neither.
The prison of the mind
is impregnable, for there
fear and pain live in conflict
and you are a small boat
on an angry sea staring
always at the roiling waves.


Sitting atop a hundred foot pole
you are convinced there are
only two directions: pole and down.
Old Osho asks: “How will you proceed?”
and you stare back at this lunatic.
“How will you proceed?” he repeats.

You release the pole and
step slowly away, looking
in all ten directions
before you, only then do you
you move your feet, and each one
touches the path of each
of the three worlds.
Osho gently touches your elbow
and walks a bit by your side.

Reflecting on Case 46 of the Mumonkan