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FEAR
The old monk asked the young man why he seemed so worried. “Because, sensei, you are old and will die soon!” “Why does that worry you?” “Because, like everyone, I fear death.” “Not everyone, certainly, I do not fear death.” “How can you not fear death?” “There is nothing to fear, I fear life.” “Why…
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HUANG PO’S GOBBLERS OF DREGS
The old monk, leaning on his cane smiled at the man prostrating himself before the great Buddha repeatedly. The monk gently interrupted the man, “what is it you hope to achieve by all of these prostrations, you clearly are seeking something, you clearly have not found what you are seeking.” “I am seeking the wisdom…
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QUARTET (HAIKU)
pond’s surface ripples each following another stone hidden from sight the old monk listens to the song of the passing breeze stars sing the refrain Buddha walks the road ignoring all around him each finds a teacher a circular path will take you nowhere quickly again and again
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LEILA
At the left click of the mouse my granddaughter appears barely a week old and with a right-click she is frozen into the hard drive. I remember sitting outside the Buddha Hall of Todai-Ji Temple in the mid-morning August sun the smiling at a baby waiting in her stroller for her mother to bow to…
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GOLDEN MIRAGE
Another day attempts to slide by in the shadows, avoiding capture by pen and journal, fleeing into night where November clouds provide infinite hiding places. Or, perhaps, it will find shelter in the blinding golden glare of Pan Wat Lao Buddhadam, that appears mystically out of the Henrietta field. It’s monk smiles, knowing so very…
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THOUGHT HARBOR
I harbored the thought one day becoming a monk, and not only because saffron robes would be well within my usual color choices. I knew it was a pipe dream, I love, too deeply, to disavow, life and I’m sure my past lives wouldn’t take all that long to catch up with me, karma can…
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AWAKENING
He could not hope to remember how he got there, he had wandered in search of nothing in particular, save dinner as his hunger grew, but in Shinjuku you needn’t read Japanese since the menus sat molded in plastic in the window of even the smallest restaurants. He began to look more intently when he…
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PARSINGS
The old monk sits cross legged on a grass mat, a faint smile dances across his lips. He invites me to sit, our meeting, he says, is notable. I sit, legs folded as best I can, and begin to ask but he silences me, “First tea.” He sets the cups down on the hardpack dirt floor, there is…
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SEARCH
The old, rotund monk is his gray robes stood outside Osaka Station gently swinging his small bell, chanting . A child of five tugged on his mother’s sleeve as she pulled him toward the subway. “Is he the Buddha” the boy asks, pulling back “No,” she said, “he is not though he searches each day…
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an old writer and his words 