an old writer and his words

  • A FLOCK

    The cranes slowly gather one upon another upon still another, wings unfurled, invoking senbazuru, each one of a whole, each threatening to fly off in ten directions, and none. Still others, sit around, patiently awaiting completion of their senbazuru, uncertain of, uncaring for, its arrival.

    Lou Faber

  • ATOP THE POLE 無門關 四十六

    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…

    Lou Faber