-
Great Relief (Not A Poem)
I keep reminding myself that there’s no need to say everything I think. Indeed, I do best to say very little, because most of what I think turns out to be incomplete, incorrect, and often rubbish.
Here are some danger signals I look for:
Anything that has the term “you people” is not fit to be heard and is useful only insofar as it points back at myself. Time to revisit my own biases and also the 37 practices. Anything that sets me up as expert is immediately suspect and needs to be quashed. The depths of my ignorance are more and more apparent to me, and I know very little indeed. None of what I think is truly original. Every thought exists built upon other thoughts, and the whole ediface is shakier in coherence than a tower of cards. So why bother with sentences like “I think…” unless someone first asks?
Anything that arises from negative emotions, esp those in the anger realm. Before I speak from annoyance, anger, or even outrage, check first the source, the intent, and the probable outcome. The first is usually not what it appears initially, and as before, circles back to me and my attachments, aversions, or confusion. Similar case to be made for intent. As far as outcome, safe to say that invariably differs from what I imagine.
Here are questions I ask before rushing in and allowing words to rush out:
Is this necessary? Is this wanted? Is this valuable to the listener(s)? Most importantly, is this kind? (Not “nice,” which is a different attitude, and one with which I don’t truck.)
I will revisit this page often. If you read this-and truly, there’s no reason anyone should-if you have any suggestions to add, please do. I’m an old judgmental bit of livestock but I can learn
-
Can You? (Poem)
ask for words
for script
pour this into a cup
drink slowly
let meaning slip into the heart
then
scrape letters from the dregs
eat them one by one
bitter and sweet
tasting of wisdom
tasting of tea
-
Bigger Windows, Different Trees (Poem)
hours watching the sky
light that changes every second
summer weave of branches
textured movement of clouds
illusory drive of time
underlying these fluctuations a stillness
the pause within the flicker of a leaf
the infinite moment between exhale and inhale
the ever-present calm of the gap
no one that sees, nothing to be seen
only seeing
