an old writer and his words

  • SHEEPISH

    As a child, when Ihad trouble falling asleepmy mother would trot outthe ancient saw and tell meto just count sheep. I tried to point outto her that we livedin an upscale suburband there were no sheepfor miles for me to count. This hardly deterred herand she repeated herdirections, in a strongertone of voice that she…

    Lou Faber

  • A QUESTION

      What is there in a yawn that has time inexorably slow, flattening notes by some unknown but ever constant fraction of a tone so that each lingers painfully before proceeding? A moment is locked in place, frozen like Schroedinger’s cat before observation.

    Lou Faber

  • A MEDITATION

    The true sound of the inkin bell can be heard in the instant before the striker and the bell meet. It is this purest of tones in which all of Buddha’s teachings are laid open for your inspection, if only you are willing to close your eyes and finally see.

    Lou Faber