an old writer and his words

  • TODAI-JI

    The snow capped mountainstares at the December skyshredding laughing clouds.I sit by the fire dreamingof the slow approach of spring. There is a momentwhen all is only silencethe zendo in stillness.In that moment I can hearthe entirety of Dharma The temple bell tolls,the deer assume their posture,afternoon zazen,I walk around Todai-jiin futile search of Buddha.

    Lou Faber

  • KENSHO

    Tonight, if all goes well, I will bea monk in a good-sized Buddhist temple.I am hoping it will be in Nara,at Todai-ji perhaps, or Asakusaat Senso-ji, or better still somewherein Kyoto, although it might well bein the Myanmar jungle or somewheredeep within the Laotian highlands. One problem with that world isthat I have no control…

    Lou Faber

  • NAMASTE

    There was a time, still withinmemory’s ever more tenuous graspthat I imagined myself, at this age,as a monk in a Buddhist templein Kyoto, that I had assumed a silenceimposed by lack of language, not faith. I am certain that the Japaneseare pleased that I let that dreampass unfulfilled, that I confinemy practice to that American…

    Lou Faber

  • THE BUDDHIST TEMPLE AT NARA

    On the steps of the Temple the unexpected morning snow which cast a threadbare blanket over the gates and lanterns recedes slowly like a supplicant whose prayers have been offered. The candle flames shiver in the strong February wind while the Buddha sits, implacable. In the park below a dragon kite takes the wind and…

    Lou Faber