an old writer and his words

  • JOSHU’S DOG

    My teacher once asked me“what do you haveto say for yourself,” and Ianswered “absolutely nothing,”or did I smile and remain silent? You assume the teacher wouldbe upset with the silent studentand in most cases you wouldbe perfectly correct. But if this occurredin a zendo, having nothingto say is a step toward no-selfand you can bein…

    Lou Faber

  • THE FATES HAVE IT

    It was a chance meeting they thoughtalthough the Fates knew otherwise.Theirs was a subtly planned world,leave no fingerprints, always havean alibi, better still never get caught. It was a short meeting, a briefconversation and an ill-meantpromise to stay in touch, numbersexchanged and as soon forgotten. He never imagined calling,nor did she, but he did calland…

    Lou Faber

  • WORKSHOP

    Grace settles into the chair,less an act of sitting thanof floating down onto the seat.She has borrowed my grandmother’ssmile, kind, gentle, inviting.She pulls a book from her bag,its pages or most of themdog eared, and I glimpsesome annotations in the margins.We sit around her like childrenawaiting presents on a holiday,as acolytes seeking knowledgefrom a font…

    Lou Faber

  • YAKUSAN TAKES THE HIGH SEAT

    When you sit at the footof the teacher, whatdo you expect to hear? You dare not ask him questionsfor you know hewill give you no answers. If he sits silentlysmile for he hasgiven youthe wholeof the Dharma. A reflection on case 7 of the Book of Equanimity

    Lou Faber

  • SAY CHEESE

    The meeting drags on. Time is frozen. The space between a smile and a grimace is the edge of a fine blade and the width of a canyon. And you maintain the smile hoping it is not seen as the rictus you feel. Politeness requires a smile, your heart requires a fast escape. So you…

    Lou Faber

  • STARING

    She sits demurely on the stepstaring off at something.You want to know what buther face isn’t saying, her eyessoft, revealing nothing, her smileenticing, teasing, and out of grasp. You want to sit with her, seewhat she looks at, what has capturedher thoughts, and there is roomon the step for you to join her,but you have…

    Lou Faber

  • INJECTION SEAT

    Another day, another needle,it is the cost of growing older,I suppose, and does beatthe alternatives, but still,I am growing tired of feelinglike an underappreciated pin cushion. And please, it is not necessaryfor you to smile while pushingthe needle into whateverbody part wins the prizeas that day’s recipient, leaveme to decide whether to smile. And I’m…

    Lou Faber

  • THE WRITER

    Why do I write, you ask.I’m a writer, so I should havea good answer, or at least a glib one. I could say I write for othersbut you would ask whothose others are, and smile knowinglywhen I have no answer. I could say I write for myself,and that would be true enough,but rather sad and…

    Lou Faber

  • TOO MANY COOKS

    I can still recallthe day my motherwas ecstatic on learningthat everything grewout of a primordial soup.It was proof, shewas certain, of a JewishGod, even if he didn’tdo it all with his own hands.And, with a broad smileshe said, I’m fairly certainat the soupwas chicken, maybewith kreplach on the side.

    Lou Faber

  • POSSIBILITY

    It is quite possibleI had seen you beforein the hallway perhaps.I hope I smiled,I assume you did.Neither of uscould have imaginedit would one daygrow into love.

    Lou Faber