Hallway to Nowhere

  • Where I Am (Poem)

    If I truly wish for all beings to be happy and free from suffering,

    I must apply this also to myself.

    At the moment, with my physical being wracked by pain

    And my mind clouded by bleak depression,

    I find this to be a difficult task.

    Equanimity towards my own state is a struggle.

    Occasionally I relax into spaciousness and acceptance.

    But old patterns return again and again

    To obscure my view and murk the light.

    Sometimes I can see that these are illusion and let them go;

    Other times I grasp them tightly as old familiar friends.

    Indeed, they once were ropes that tethered me in safety.

    So rather than judging them (and myself for holding on to such),

    Let me honor their place, grant them gratitude,

    And treat them gently with kindness.

    I walk the path I do in knowledge that it looks the same

    But, like everything, is always changing.

    I still stumble and even fall. The rocks that bruise me

    Appear like the stones from yesterday and before, even unto the distant past.

    Yet when I pause to see, after the pain of impact, they are not.

    I take hold again of my stick, pull myself up, and even take in

    The glorious colors of the trees and sky and listen to the wind.

    I walk on with my usual unsteady gait until the next halt.

    This is where I am.

  • The Illusion of A Chair (Poem)

    Consider this wooden object.

    This is a chair. You say.

    But is it? I ask. What makes it so?

    This! And you sit upon it.

    Ah, I see. But please arise.

    I place my tea cup and notebook upon it.

    Now, still a chair? Or has it transformed into a table?

    I remove them.

    Would you please retrieve that book from a high shelf?

    You then stand upon the sturdy item.

    It has become a stepladder.

    What magic is this?

    Thus is all.

  • Rocks On The Path (Poem)

    I am grateful for all I encounter in this life

    But I bow in most gratitude to the difficulties.

    Like stumbling upon a rock on a path,

    They cause me to stop and pay attention.

    Look, they say. Open your eyes and see what is here.

    Then I remember to do so.

    Oh, my walk is like this now?

    I smile, breathe, and continue on.

  • Flight (Poem)

    I open the door and step out.

    I walk among fantastical beasts of rainbow hues

    That dance in flight and shimmer with the sun.

    I reach up to seize a passing cloud and ascend into the sky-held throng.

    My many wings unfurl with grace and soar me into the air.

    I am not bound by all you thought you knew of me

    Or even by what I considered of myself.

    I am magical indeed with chimerical form and abilities untold.

    As are you and you and you; as are we all.

    Blink your many arcane eyes and enter the revelry!

  • Cataclysm (Poem)

    How do I construct a world?

    The very sky is ever-shifting with shadow and light.

    The earth beneath moves and trembles.

    The lines of existence are in flux.

    Dreams fly apart and come together in unrecognizable forms.

    Past and present spiral and flow in mutable streams.

    Any certainty slips through my hands like liquid sand.

    But glorious songs weave through the cracks in hope.

    So I celebrate nonetheless.

  • Little Conversations (Poem)

    Let me stop these conversations in my head.

    I want to experience what I encounter in the moment,

    Not the narrative I’m running about it.

    I’m not there yet in ability, however.

    For now all I can do

    Is change the tenor of my interior dialogue.

    I am slowly replacing the critical words and sharp retorts

    With pauses and kinder responses.

    Equally hard, when I talk to another,

    I endeavor to listen to them.

    Not myself.

    What filters we all have!

  • Reflections On Illness (Poem)

    Practice can be difficult.

    Often my body is filled with pain

    Or clouded by fever.

    I realize again

    That compassion and patience

    Must be extended to myself.

    I consider impermanence and the connection of all,

    Grateful for the many kindnesses of others.

    These current conditions will change.

    One breath at a time.

  • Death’s Entrance (Poem)

    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.

  • Mala & Tea Cup (Poem)

    I sit with my mala wrapped around my wrist.

    In another room, I drink my tea. There I drop my tea cup.

    As I count the beads, this accident causes my heart to shatter.

    The tea cup remains whole, and I inhale the fragrance and sip.

    The mala falls through the air. I catch it and resume my cadence.

    Each breath repairs my heart. I taste the flavor of the tea and smile.

  • The Connection Of Islands (Poem)

    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.