Hallway to Nowhere

Category: Uncategorized

  • 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

    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.)

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

  • 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.

  • The God of the Doorway (Poem)

    Now is a good time to reflect upon deities

    And who we will decide to worship, and why?

    We all have idols, numerous ones,

    Acknowledged or not,

    So it behooves us to choose wisely.

    I would suggest liminal beings,

    For we are on the threshold in many ways,

    Looking backwards and stepping forward.

    We need divinities that speak to transition,

    Enable us to handle change and be not afraid,

    And move from warring with each other to peace,

    Gods and goddesses that do not compete for supremacy,

    Nor encourage us to do so,

    But instead work for the betterment of all existence

    And inspire us to do likewise.

    I know who I think upon: to whom do you pray?

  • Early Morning (Poem)

    I walk outside before dawn

    To breathe in the quietness of this time

    And watch the clouds move across the moon.

    All is cast in tones of gray and shadow,

    And there is a sense of abeyance,

    A momentary hush,

    As if the world has taken a brief pause

    For meditation and reflection.

    Soon enough the sky will fill with the colors of morning,

    And the sounds of the day will begin.

  • Rivers Of Hades

    Five rivers traverse Hades, the underground.

    You think you get to choose; mind you, you don’t.

    We all have to cross each river alone at some point.

    For this poem, ponder this:

    Which rivers would you enter, and for what reasons?

    The River Styx, the River of Hate, allows you entrance to the underground. Take care.

    Charon can ferry you through the River Acheron, the River of Pain, but you always have to pay.

    Travel the River Cocytus, the River of Lamentation, with an open heart. Consider others’ suffering.

    We all drink from the River Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness, in some fashion. Be aware.

    The River Phlegethon, the River of Fire, can destroy your hubris. This is not a bad thing.

    Remember you journey with gods, lost souls, and powerful currents.

    Think wisely; take a deep breath; and begin.

  • Preparation (Poem)

    Interaction does not come easily.

    Every conversation takes place in a foreign language.

    I make notes beforehand,

    To remind me what to ask and how to do so.

    I practice and rehearse

    And remember past exchanges.

    This is not because I do not care.

    I make this effort precisely

    Because I care indeed.

    But I remain a foreigner in this human terrain

    And find the ground often shifts in unpredictable perplexing ways.