an old writer and his words

  • TOKYO

    Walking the grounds of Senso-ji Temple, I look among the statues, half expecting Buddha or Kannon Bosatsu to appear, but only a pigeon answers my expectations. Lighting a joss bundle and placing it into the burner I imagine for a moment that I am zainichi, but the giggles of a flock of uniformed schoolgirls reminds me cruelly…

    Lou Faber

  • COMPASSION

    Kannon, have compassion for us, as if you could do otherwise. We don’t seek wisdom, that’s out of your department. We all seek enlightenment as if it is some neon sign around the next bend in the path. We are well-suited for rushing to unknown destinations. We would offer you prayers, but we have forgotten…

    Lou Faber

  • THE HERMIT

    The hermit lives in the shadow of the great mountain listening to the symphony of the bluebird and the wild Rose engulfed by the sky, the meandering stream his constant companion. I live in a city in a sea of city dwellers each of us prisoners marching from cell to cell, with passing nods we…

    Lou Faber

  • KANNON

    Under the compassionate eye of the Bodhisattva the cats at Senso-ji Temple curl around the incense burners on a cold December morning, ignoring countless pigeons hopping impatiently, awaiting flocks of school children in neat uniforms and rainbow backpacks, each with a slice or two of stale bread. The Buddha watches with a gentle smile.

    Lou Faber