Hallway to Nowhere

Category: Uncategorized

  • Karmic Dramas (Poem)

    We often wonder why in terms of personal experience.

    A futile question to ask, for the many causes cannot be determined.

    We have never been a blank slate, to arrive at this moment sui generis.

    We come with so many stories behind us that push us where we are today.

    We are the authors of them all and continue to narrate our ongoing tales.

    These, interwoven with the chronicles of others, shape the current scene.

    All we can do is attempt to ensure our ongoing accounts are the best we can tell.

    Let us choose words more carefully that spread kindness and compassion.

  • Attentional Closet (Poem)

    I open the closet to shine a flashlight on the interior.

    What do I see? It depends upon where I focus the light.

    I can see the clothes and other items,

    To be grateful for what I have.

    I can find dirt and dust,

    To be motivated to clean.

    I can see disorganization and poor design,

    To be inspired to reorder.

    I can find empty holes and disliked objects,

    To feel suffering and lack.

    Whatever I discover, whatever I feel, whatever I do…

    All depends upon where I focus the beam and how I choose to respond.

    The closet itself is simply a space with things.

  • Origination Tea Cup (Poem)

    steam rises from the tea. consider these things

    how did this cup come to be?

    a skilled artisan learned from skilled potters who learned from their teachers and so on

    a ceramic with multiple sources, and also the celadon glaze

    a kiln in which it was fired; wood that provided heat

    a building itself that housed this all

    thus it is with the tea

    tea farmers, masters all, helped by family and community and so on

    (Only a village produces fine tea.)

    trees dependent upon rain, earth, and light

    countless different elements interconnected

    change one, and the whole transforms

    each lift of the cup and sip of the tea,

    the entire world is joined

  • Death Is My Friend (Poem Regarding Yamantaka)

    Death sits with me, my faithful companion.

    We have known each other since my birth.

    Sometimes I have ignored their presence,

    To be startled once more when I noticed them again.

    I remember over and over

    That this is merely my familiar friend.

    Their fierce visage is meant not to frighten,

    Only drive away my aspects which prevent a meaningful happy life.

    When finally we walk away from this existence together,

    I will not be alone but with my dearest guide.

  • Losar Reflection (Poem For the New Year)

    Let me grateful.

    For when I awaken in the morning.

    If I do so with relative ease and comfort,

    This is a joy.

    If I do so with suffering and pain,

    This is also a joy.

    Whatever happens, I have enormous opportunity.

    Whether the day brings a chance to actively study and reflect;

    Whether the day brings time to pause and rest.

    Each provides an expedient time to practice.

    May I seize every occasion possible

    To act with kindness, compassion, and patience.

    Towards myself; towards other beings; towards the world.

  • Kintsugi Dreams (Poem For Feb 24-PouncePunk22)

    I walk on debris,

    The detritus of expectations.

    I gather fragments to make kintsugi dreams,

    Toss them in the air, and watch them come crashing down.

    They add to the rubble underfoot.

    Thus it has always been. Thus it continues.

    I laugh with delight.

  • Body (Poem For Feb 20-PouncePunk22)

    I once disdained my corporeal being,

    Viewing it as just an unfortunate shell.

    The important me, the real me, was solely my mind.

    As I’ve gotten older and perhaps a bit wiser,

    I’ve come to appreciate this tangible form.

    No mere vehicle to house my essential nature,

    But a vital and requisite necessity for identity and action.

    The body gives rise to the mind; the mind informs the body.

    I no longer despise what it offers, including sensations of pain.

    Instead I embrace all I experience, for this constitutes who I am.

    And with gratitude, I offer thanks.

  • Written On My Hand (Poem For Feb 19-Pouncepunk22)

    Written On My Hand (Poem For Feb 19-Pouncepunk22)

    Written on my hand

    Find the stories of my life.

    Passages from infant to child to adult to elder.

    With multicolored inks, myriad scripts, and various languages.

    Changes detailed in wondrous words

    Unseen unless you care to look.

    I carry these always.

    Occasionally they find their way into plain view.

    Bleeding onto poems and tales.

    Even flavoring cups of tea.

    (Kindness tastes of honey.)

  • Stillness & Movement (Poem-PouncePunk Art Challenge)

    How to find a still mind?

    Try being aware of movement,

    The ever-flowing change that is always occurring.

    Take the body, for example.

    Even in the midst of the deepest meditation or dreamless state,

    There are infinite shifts taking place.

    Cells replace themselves; breath moves in and out; the heart beats; and so on.

    Similar processes happen across the physical world,

    From the most minute particles all the way to vaster aspects of slow relentless geologic change.

    Accepting this impermanence with equanimity

    And relinquishing the notion that this will stop in any way

    Provides a space to relax and rest with a sense of ease.

    This will also evolve but observe with detachment.

    Nothing (and everything) lasts forever. This need not cause suffering.

    Find the path to peace and joy.

  • Bodhichitta Heart (Poem)

    Do not ask for my heart; I have already given it.

    Freely; willingly; with abandon. To you, yes, but also to:

    The friend who calls from a distant land;

    The neighbor who visits over the fence;

    The postman who offers a friendly wave;

    The stranger who walks down the street.

    For these and many others, I have cast my devotion and regard,

    Wanting each to be happy, at ease, free from suffering, and joyful.

    So again, do not ask for my heart.

    Know that you have it already and help spread it through the world.