an old writer and his words

  • MORNING SKY

    The morning skymaculate with tiny cloudsscattered about the endless blue,denied the promised rain. The wind grew angryhaving nothing to propelthrough the azure emptinessand rifled the trees seeking music. There is nothing to knowon such mornings, no languageneeded or permitted, there is onlythe sky awaiting the sun’s arrival. We are invited to watch,asked to gaze deeply…

    Lou Faber

  • DREAMS

    It starts quickly and unexpectedly. You do not know when it will start, why, or what it will bring. There are times when even after it is done, you cannot be certain what it was, what it did, what it meant. Often, though, you forget it before you have time to capture it. It is…

    Lou Faber

  • BODHIDHARMA’S VAST AND VOID

    You want holy teachingsboiled down, synthesizeddigestible in bites so dine on the holesnothing, emptinessis sustenanceenough look at me, at a windowas you do a mirrorno knowing,a familiar facebut whose the face will departyours or hisyou will awakento endless absence learn nothingnessoverflowing void A reflection on Case 1 of the Hekiganroku (Blue Cliff Record)

    Lou Faber

  • POSTDICTIONS

    In the beginning there wasa void, stasis, dimensionless.I am a point, without sizetaking form only in motion,so too the seat on whichI sit on United flight 951not going from point Ato point B for neithercan exist in motiontranscending time. Each decision setsone me on a path, intoa dimension, dimensionswhile I tread a different pathand I…

    Lou Faber

  • HAIL AND FAREWELL

    On very dreary daysI like to drive through the cemeterymeandering among the stonesuntil I find a freshly dug grave.I stop, under the vigilant eyeof the caretaker and carefully placea cassette of Dvorak’s Slavonic Dancesor Smetana’s Die Moldau into the player.As the melodies spill forthI hope they lift the spiritof the resting, bringing them a momentof…

    Lou Faber

  • NIL

    I was honored to have this recently published in Arena Magazine: A Magazine of Critical Thinking, Issue 162 from Victoria, Australia It was supposed to be the simplest of all the numbers nestled neatly in the center of the number line. For years its logic evaded our efforts to comprehend its simplicity. It didn’t look…

    Lou Faber

  • TOZAN’S NO GRASS

    As the seasons change I will stand with one foot on the highest peak and the other at the bottom of the deepest sea. But do not ask that I stand in a place where there is no Buddha, or my feet and legs shall fall away into the void. A reflection on Case 68…

    Lou Faber

  • SLIP SLIDING AWAY

    Merriam-Webster declared me an orphan yesterday morning, when my father slipped away from his morphine dreams. Some would argue I cannot be an orphan at my age, that is a sanctuary reserved for children, but I am long past admitting my age, and my behavior gives no lie to my claim of childhood. I will…

    Lou Faber

  • DAIJI’S INNER CULTURE

    Eyes can look within and discover a boundless universe but the tongue alone can speak only sounds that go false as they dance away unseen. The silence of zazen speaks the dharma, the teisho is offered mutely. The space between eye and tongue is but three inches or an unbridgeable void. A reflection on Case…

    Lou Faber

  • INTENTION

      Today my intentions fell away through the hourglass the best, heaviest, first, followed in course by the lesser, until I could mark my day by the void left in their wake. But tomorrow I shall turn the glass over yet again.

    Lou Faber