I consider the gateway of my death.
It is always before me, sometimes hidden by distractions.
There are periods I see it more clearly.
As of late the details of its appearance become more defined,
And the door opens widely and freely.
When will I pass through?
I, as with other beings, do not know this for certain.
Each moment brings me closer.
Let me prepare now.
I can almost feel the latch swing under my hand
And hear the rustle of the gravel as my foot starts over the stile.
Lest you say,
“I am an island unto myself,”
Remember that an island is so
Only because of other factors:
The waters that surround it and the land from which it is formed.
Should you think,
“I depend only on myself,”
Remember that your very birth was a result of others’ interactions.
We are inextricably connected to all that is;
No-one nor nothing happens in isolation.
Consider this and realize therefore
Care for oneself includes care for all.
How to develop a lighter mind,
Able to easily drift on the winds of change?
All my attitudes hinder this,
Causing me to adhere to every sticking point.
Rather than a clear openness,
I find the constant film of selfishness.
Sometimes this momentarily fades,
Through diligent application of appropriate means.
My attention waxes and wanes,
With the result that the tarnish returns.
Once again I sink under the grimy wash.
If I could but realize that this be illusion,
I could float freely as the leaf and cloud.
Let me go for a walk. How do I begin?
By starting from where I am.
I put one foot in front of the other.
Over and over and over.
I alone can do this.
I cannot ask: Would you move for me?
(I could, but this is nonsensical.)
If I want to trek to whatever destination,
I must commence.
Now is the only time;
These steps are the perfect means.
I embark upon the journey.
What is the beginning of wisdom?
Simply this. To say
I do not know.
Nothing more. This hard thing.
A sentence to utter often.
Practice articulating these words.
In solitude at first if need be, for familiarization.
One brief declaration, then stop.
Listen to what follows.
Open mind. Open heart.
I am come late to build my dwelling.
It proceeds slowly, hampered by age and infirmity.
Lest I get discouraged by this,
I keep in mind that my life antecedent
Has all been preparation.
I now have more skillful means to construct a proper residence
With patience, foresight, and expertise.
The foundation has been laid through prior experience;
The design has been shaped by acquired knowledge;
The materials have been gathered with painstaking care.
I know that I might not live to see the completion,
But that is not the point.
If need be, those who follow can finish;
Whatever I manage to construct will be beautiful and sturdy.
I walked on the trail and saw
Amongst the usual plants and trees
A small sapling that appeared different.
This thing is not like the other things,
Thought I. But then I said
Stop and look again and see.
I did. Here is what I found:
Like the other growing things,
The little seedling grew from the earth;
The branches reached to the sky;
The wood was brown and the leaves green;
The sun and rain and soil nourished it.
This thing is utterly like the other things.
So with all, if only we look closely
With openness.
We all abide in temporary dwellings; none of our houses do we own.
Whatever contract we established; whatever money we paid;
Our residence remains ephemeral and always subject to sudden change.
No matter what we devote to maintenance and decoration,
We leave in the end for another transient domicile.
Another moves in to change all our endeavors.
Consider carefully where we place our time and effort.
Wherever we go, we take only ourselves. Where then should be our attention?
Steam rises from the tea.
Consider these things.
When I lift the tea cup, I do so with wonder.
I do not think, “oh, if only I had a different vessel!”
When I sip the tea, I do so with appreciation.
I do not think, “oh, if only this were a different drink!”
This is the cup; this is the tea.
Right here; right now; where I am in this moment.
I drink with gratitude and enjoyment.
This fragile skin encloses us all.
A tender veil of different hues shelters each from harm.
Pierce it, and the results come regardless of appearance.
A common membrane ensures our well-being.
And yet. This also defines us.
We do not see another living being that is just like us.
We focus on the myriad manifestations of this mortal wrap.
You are this because. I am that because. We are not alike.
Judgement and separation. We have built our world hence.
Can we learn to undo this? To realize our selfsameness?
Remake the swords of disconnection into ploughshares of compassion.
Remove the veil of ignorance that prevents clear sight.
Everyone and all things shine with the same pure light.
Teach your children well.
