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THREADS
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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QIANFENG’S “THREE TYPES OF SICKNESS”
When you assume the mat and gaze at the wall, what is it you see? If you see nothing, what do you think? If you are certain that you see nothing, that is what you think. Do not see, do not think, and let the cushion fall away until the moment you no longer…
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NOT
Today I will hope to master, if only for a brief moment, not not being attached to thoughts, but recognizing them and letting them pass, since the thought of recognition must replace the thought that was recognized, not trying for anything on the cushion including not trying to not try for anything for that is…
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MORNING MEDITATION
Settling into perfect stillness, each of us in our brown robes on brown chairs, benches, cushions, note his entry is somewhere between the thundering of a forgotten storm or the garbage trucks crawling slowly down the street. Despite the early morning heat there is no breeze, only a large moth comes through the open windows…
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SOTO ZEN
The gong reverberates, its depth hangs in the air, fades like a slowly retreating army. The zafu is at once coarse and caressing, nestling me as I settle down into becoming one with the earth, the zabuton, a fluid translator. The mokugyo’s rhythm lies deep within my chest. The incense settles on my tongue, an acrid sweetness,…
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an old writer and his words 