an old writer and his words

  • SAY WHAT?

    There is a Buddhist expression that you cannotstep into the same river twice, which makesa certain amount of sense since the river changesfrom moment to moment, and the river youfirst step in is gone even before you step out.But you can step into the same accent repeatedlyif you tune your ear and listen carefully.Those who…

    Lou Faber

  • A SAVAGE BREAST

    They are very different from you and Iand despite the differences we need them.They fill a void we never knew was thereand we note their absence somewhat painfully.You have no choice but to accept themfor who they are, their quirks, smalland major can be tolerated, the price you payfor the benefit you know you will…

    Lou Faber

  • THE HERMIT

    The hermit livesin the shadowof the great mountainlistening to the symphonyof the bluebirdand the wild Roseengulfed by the sky,the meandering streamhis constant companion.I live in a cityin a sea of city dwellerseach of us prisonersmarching from cellto cell, with passing nods.we hear only solitudeand are blindto the ever shifting clouds.Kuan Yin sitsin her templeand whispers…

    Lou Faber

  • MASTER MA IS UNWELL

    Yesterday is but a shadowand tomorrow an illusion.Do not wallow in the mudof attempted memory, donot sink in the mireof deluded anticipation.Stop, listen to the sunand the moon singof the Dharma, hearthe silence it bringsfor you are alivein this moment,and there isno other momentin which you can live. A reflection on Case 3 of the…

    Lou Faber

  • WWYD

    How often have I seen somethinglike WWBD – what would Buddha do –but lately I’ve stoppedto think about that. What if old Gautama Siddharthawere to arrive here, now,what would the Buddha doin a world gone wholly mad? Would he bother with sutras,bother with teishos to the fewstill willing to listen, or wouldhe check himself into…

    Lou Faber

  • STORY

    You are still there. You have a patience that I will not know in this lifetime. I know I can always find you, even though you never reach out to me except in my dreams. There I tell you my life story and you listen intently. You have no need to ask questions, knowing I…

    Lou Faber

  • AFOOT, A CITY

    As you walk the streetsof a city like New York,you hear a polyglot of languages,and closing your eyes youmight have no idea where you were. Listen carefully, eavesdropon conversations, imagine the storiesthey are telling, the joysand heartbreak laid bare before you,half heard, half filled into make the story palatable to you. Life in the city…

    Lou Faber

  • LOOKING FOR WORDS

    They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Perhaps so, but many pictures don’t travel in verbose company, and there are pictures worth far, far less, although some will search until the magic thousand are found. In Japan a story can be told in seventeen syllables, a picture painted with a single brushstroke. In…

    Lou Faber

  • ROBBIE

    He left and we never saw the departure coming. We knew he would leave sooner or later, but not now. We had planned on his visit. We knew he meant he was coming. We knew he might just show up. He traveled on snap decisions. It might be here, it might be Paris or Italy.…

    Lou Faber

  • LUNA’S SONG

    Tonight, when the sunhas finally conceded the dayto its distant but ever larger kin,the moon will again singher ever waning songhoping we will joinin a chorus we haveso long forgotten,bound to the earthin body and in waxing thought. We will stop and listenperhaps, over the dinof the city, the traffic,the animals conversingwith the sky, our…

    Lou Faber