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TRANSITIONS
Dusk is that hour when the mind and eyes mark the slow transition from light to dark. As day slides off, things that were obvious, things that once were simple, grow in complexity until the intricacy threatens to overwhelm you. When night fully settles, sanity returns grudgingly and the memory of dusk is but a…
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PEACE MANDALA
The saffron robed monks stoop carefully, dropping single grains of colored sand onto the mandala of peace. They rock gently as the intricate wheel takes shape and form. They are drawn to its center, closer day by day, countless hours focussed to a singularity. They interlace fingers bow a collective head and pray silently for…
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A POET IS
A poet is a child who on seeing a blank page must fill it with dreams hears the song of the nightingale in the din of passing traffic comforts the lonely mother recalling the pain of a thousand births sees in each passing cloud the tears of a generation feels the heat of the sun…
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PHILOSOPHER’S STONE
The philosopher sits on a rock overlooking a pond with a single water lily. To defeat your enemy, you must have his mind. To have his mind, you must be him. To be him, you must cast off self-loathing When there is no loathing, he is not your enemy. If you have no enemies, you…
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ZUÒ CHÁN (ALONE AGAIN)
This morning I plucked a thread of silence from the dawn, watched carefully by a cardinal who knew not to break the purity of the moment. I do this as often as I can, sometimes grabbing one from the moon as it sits overhead holding out its promise of quietude as people retreat into homes.…
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OMNIPOTENCE
In my dream God came to me, said “look, I need a break, some real time away from the job, not just one day a week, where it’s all I can do to keep up, but a serious vacation, call it a Sabbatical if you want. I need someone to hold the fort and was…
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ZAZEN
It does nothing, sits there, immobile and this deeply frustrates you. Things are not supposed to be absolutely still, some motion, however small is required. You stare at it, hoping it will move, will shake or lift, or even settle lower but it does nothing. You sit and stare in growing anger absolutely still doing…
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REFLECTING ON THE HARBOR
On the anniversary of the start of a war one feels almost compelled to speak to its horrors, its cause, its effect. But we live in an age where wars are plentiful, when peace is the exception and war seems to loom around every corner. So on this anniversary I watch the snowy egret stare…
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PROPRIETY OF MORNING
There is a propriety of morning that appears denied to the rest of day, escaping Luna’s grasp the sun can sing in a voice deep in prayer and yet at play. The lives that quietly left in the night are balanced by the days measure of births but at dawn when the sun throws off…
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SANCTUARY
The motion begins deep within you, bleeds quickly outward until it blankets the web between your fingers and toes, collects behind the ears as you hurtle on parallel steel threads connecting Tokyo and Osaka. You are down to the broad fields of golden-yellow beckoning the impending harvest, the rice swaying in the unfelt breeze. In…
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an old writer and his words 