open hands

a quote by Dogen

by way of a Linda Hogan book

a gift from dear Christina

 

"Do not doubt

that the mountain walks.

It just doesn't walk

in human time."

 

we are vagrants, pickers

taking what has been left behind

everything that is us

granted by the elements

 

not knowing their source

we hoard what has been bestowed

building personal treasure

which turns into garbage

 

the mountain walks

the ocean climbs to the sky

the moon offers itself

 

open your hands, release

close your eyes, trust

your heart will bloom

the world will feed it

that essential nectar

don't know

you don't know

what you don't know

                      -- conventional wisdom

 

I may not know

what I don't know

but am aware of

the not-knowing

having caught glimpses of it

a tunnel through the Universe

through this Earth

the dirt around the open wound

my heart opened and mortal

 

sprigs of lemon grass

attempt to gather, grow around it

do not succeed

 

breathes a foul wind that stinks

not of ignorance

but of the hurt that ignorance does

to the innocent, yes

but also to the mighty

when their time comes

to the animals

to the whole of the Earth

 

and to the worm, when it has crawled almost

to the top of the moist ridge, to freedom

and is washed back down

deep into the churning

by a rivulet formed

of the excretion

from its own struggle

The Elder

tree in photo

kindred spirit

branch balances the moon

pierced like ripe fruit

juice sprays out

of white orange

feeds the night

its pale light

from the new Tanakh

 

“The door of my heart…left open

…the door of compassion…”

         From a poem by Thich Nhat Hanh

I am sitting in a café 

Suffering my peculiar suffering

In my mind, I climb a ladder to a hornet’s nest

Simply to bother it, my mouth wide open

Where is that door of compassion?

How do I enter the door of the heart?

I turn to look out the bay window

The rain gone as soon as it came

A square metal table

Left outside to fend for itself

Water puddled on its surface

Blue sky reflected

The water runs over me

The door has opened

if I should begin it

attempting to perfect it

to nail the shiny sheen

self-denial insensate 

pick my white bones clean

hold the pittance of penne

macaroni, no matter the cost

I want the real spaghetti

the superlative pasta sauce

and here I count my plunder

oh, Buddha sold and bought

my soul squeezed through the needle eye

a lifetime's gain of naught 

but if I should begin it

and if I play the part

to sit and sigh and smile

self-hug straight to the heart

let go

let go

of all attachments

learn what

the match meant

that sparked the flame

that lit the room

that gave the same

-- your light

to you

from One Creation Myth for Every Drop of Light

keep it simple

darling

back to the beginning

when all things were possible

all, meant to happen

under the dark brown folds

the twin fields of her breasts

and they went forth

and multiplied

the tender name-beings

that spoke the world

and promised each new thing

its amnesty, no matter how

the pale stars would claim

that freedom belongs by agency

of their insidious, cold radiance

Family Therapy

To frame the following post -- In the summer following high school graduation, 1984, I had what I can only call my first spiritual experience -- after puking in my friend's bathroom. I was high and also drunk. I never could stomach alcohol. 

Odd as it may seem, I had a "unitive watershed" moment then, as the nausea receded -- the whole room, myself, and the music flooding in from the hallway, all appeared as emanating from one source, one light, one awareness, a higher awareness, if you will. 

What followed were two years of chasing that experience, through reading about Eastern philosophy, meditating, and finally and fanatically diving into asceticism. It didn't work very well. But this is just the intro to the following, an experience from sophomore college, summer break 1986 --

-------------------------------------------

     By the end of July, I was hospitalized in a psychiatric ward for the first time. It would certainly not be the last.

      The diagnoses were clinical depression and anorexia, but I know now that it was simply a case of the Ascetic Blues. I was given a small dose of anti-depressant, ate all of the food they gave me, and met with my family on the final day for a family therapy session.

       At the meeting, I was asked what I needed from my parents, anything I could think of. I asked to play a childhood fist bumping game with Mom. When we’d finished I looked around, feeling nothing but embarrassed. From Dad I wanted…a hug. He was surprised, as we had been at odds all summer, and, frankly, we had never hugged before.

     The experience of the hug was an oxytocin cascade. I felt the whole energy in the room shift. The result was perhaps as moving as my experience in the bathroom that night two summers prior at Moon’s house – an influx of love, human or spiritual, there was no difference.

Interest vs. Obsession

 

It occurs to me that having an interest in something makes me feel alive. Being obsessed with that thing supersizes my aliveness. Obsessions have taken me to some wild places, but most of those trips turned really bad. I learned mindfulness to scale back, simplify, and just be okay with feeling "alive". What I found was that simple "aliveness" is bottomless. Peaceful, joyful, rich with potential for a really fine life.

some reassembly required

in the planet's shadow

another lost race, an empty place

in the heart

how could this happen again

in the mulch of forward movement

from tender plumes of smoke

to unquenchable blaze

we'll just have to pick up

and build once more

on Mars, the moon

or much more likely

in plastic scaffold latticework

crossing the vast Arctic Loss

in the haze of winter's fires

: some reassembly required

digging Being Peace by Thich Nhat Hanh

 "Life is both dreadful and wonderful. To practice meditation is to be in touch with both aspects. Please do not think we must be solemn in order to meditate. In fact, to meditate well, we have to smile a lot."

Thich Nhat Hanh, from Being Peace

this service has been interrupted to bring you something more uplifting, we hope

 Hi folks,

I don't know who reads this blog, but there are more than a few, and I wanted to let you know I appreciate you taking the time to do so. In the wake of both current events and new resolutions (on my end) for living a more positive, meaningful life, I hope from here on out to bring you a bit of joy and equanimity. Poetry that does not say too much so you can hear the sounds of your own inner Self. A tall order, yes, but also something to strive for. 

Thank you again for being a reader here. May your day and your life be full of inner quiet and outer meaning.