an old writer and his words

  • THE AUTUMN OF SPRING

    Spring has arrived, however begrudgingly, and the young woman pushes the older woman’s wheelchair along the paths of the great park. Neither speaks, but each knows this could be the last time they do this. That shared knowledge paints each flower in a more vibrant hue, each fallen petal is quickly but individually mourned for,…

    Lou Faber

  • SEKITO’S GREAT AND SMALL CANON 正法眼蔵 語十三

    This wave touches the shore just as it should, that wave touches the shore just as it should. You may wait an eternity for a wave that touches but not as it should or you can sit and let the waves wash over you.

    Lou Faber

  • WITH EYES WIDE CLOSED

    Between this moment and the next lies an unbridgeable gulf that the mind leaps with great ease, never looking back, or down into the abyss. It is only when the body stops, tries to grasp the space between, that everything collapses and falls into itself until all that is left is improbability.

    Lou Faber

  • WHEN OR IF

    In a clockless world all life is an approximation and clear boundaries evaporate like the mist off a morning pond. In that world this moment seeps into the next, night becomes day, only to return again. The Buddha knew this for in his clockless world all that existed was this moment an instant that was,…

    Lou Faber

  • SEKITO’S GREAT AND SMALL CANON 正法眼蔵 語十三

    This wave touches the shore just as it should, that wave touches the shore just as it should. You may wait an eternity for a wave that touches but not as it should or you can sit and let the waves wash over you. A reflection on Case 53 of the Shobogenzo (Master Dogen”s True…

    Lou Faber

  • WORLD HONORED ONE ASCENDS THE SEAT

    If you sit patiently enough, and sit long enough, just perhaps the teacher will acknowledge you. If he holds out his arms and offers you the heart of the Dharma, will you grasp it and hold it closely? If you try and grasp it it will slip through your fingers, disappear from sight, lost forever.…

    Lou Faber

  • ISAN’S TIME 鐵笛倒吹 十六

    A cold day — how many other winters can you remember, how many future winters can your mind grasp? Can you hold yesterday in the palm of your hand can you wrap tomorrow around your thumb? Between the palms in gassho lies all life and being. A reflection on case 10 of the Iron Flute.

    Lou Faber

  • THE FLY

    The fly hovers before me I stare at it trying to freeze its diaphanous wings to hold it, still, in my mind’s eye locking it in a moment that might last my eternity. I sit calmly in the chair staring out at the storm building outside the window as the fly stares at me seeing…

    Lou Faber

  • SIRIUS

    Sirius, you arise each evening. Your braying washes the night sky, as though to daunt us. There was a time we stood in simple awe having no idea how far away you skulked or of your immenseness, a cold dark point that could barely illumine our occasional thought. Hawking sits pressed into his chair held…

    Lou Faber

  • LUNA REFLECTS

    Tonight the moon will gnaw away at the stars, consuming them much as the beaver consumes trees to build a proper home. We will stare at the moon, marvel at its size, at its brightness, wonder why we never noticed it like this before, realize it is because we are so young, that our memory…

    Lou Faber