Walking a path, I stumble over a rock in the way.
It reminds me to be more aware,
Look downwards as well as ahead,
To pause and give this my attention.
How so then
Does this continue to happen?
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Thankfulness Tea Cup (Poem)
Steam rises from the cup.
Consider these things.
I am so grateful to have tea.
I bow down to the earth that nourished it.
I bow down to the farmers that grew it.
I bow down to the masters that crafted it.
I bow down to the workers that transported it.
Om Mani Padme Hung.
“May all beings have happiness and the cause of happness.
May they be free of suffering and the cause of suffering.
May they never be disassociated from the supreme happiness which is without suffering.
May they remain in the boundless equanimity, free from both attachment to close ones and rejection of others. “
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Emptiness Tea Cup (Poem)
Steam rises from the tea.
Consider these things.
The cup which contains the tea
Has already been shattered.
The tea itself has been consumed.
Gate gate paragate
Parasamgate bodhi svaha.
“Gone, gone, gone beyond,
Gone altogether beyond,
Oh, what an awakening! All hail!”
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Start The Hard Conversations NOW
It’s looking Biden might win. As a progressive (though Biden is hardly one), I am hoping he does. But whether he wins or loses, we as Americans need to begin to have difficult conversations amongst ourselves. Perhaps ESPECIALLY if he wins. We need to be gathering together (safely, of course) to discuss these sorts of things: Some of us think that separating families, taking children from their parents, placing them in cages WAS ACCEPTABLE. (At the time I’m writing this, 545 of these children STILL have yet to be located.) Now, I realize that those who are okay with this won’t like the way I describe this. Fine. Let’s talk, and you can tell me why crossing an (imaginary) line makes this a moral act, and not something you protested. Some of us believe that BLM is a terrorist movement, that systemic racism does not exist, and that the police treat everyone the same. I want to ask those who believe this WHY do you think this is so? ON what basis? Because of YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE? I’m really asking here. But you need to having these talks with folks near and dear. I’m sure you know someone close to home.
These are just a couple of examples. You get the gist of what I’m trying to do. But until we face what we’ve done the past four years, look at each other squarely and come to terms, then I don’t think we’re going to heal. We’re merely going to do what we’ve done in the past with the hard things: cover them up; pretend they aren’t there; hope they’ll go away on their own. (Yeah, how’d that whole “post-racial society” thing work out for us? When Obama got elected? Hmmmm?) Americans unfortunately are not known for doing this. We like fast, convenient, easy, and comfortable fixes. But I fear that unless we do this, the reckoning will come whether we want it or not. And it will take us all.
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Choose Life-Some Thoughts On Yom Kippur
On Yom Kippur, we are told:
I have put before you blessing and curse. Choose life-so that you and your children may live!
I’ve been reflecting on what this means for me, as a Jew, as a Buddhist, but very much as a person who struggles on a daily basis with clinical depression and occasional suiciality. This phrase is NOT one I can utter lightly or undertake with any sort of facile means. For me, it is indeed fraught, and a vow I must take with most solemn intent.
A bit of personal history: I have more than one suicide in my background. This makes suicide as an option imminently real, as these were both past very close relationships. One was a partner; one was a best friend. I have another ATTEMPTED suicide that I talked down from the ledge. So this is not a theoretical exercise for me. I know what it means; the reverberations it sends throughout the lives it touches, as well the sheer physical mess it leaves to be cleaned up for the unfortunate chosen ones to find your remains. I’m not working on some romanticized ideal gotten from poetry books and bad movies. This knowledge has been one of the things keeping me from it-I didn’t want to inflict this damage on anyone else. I do take personal responsibility pretty seriously, yeah? But then when I’m fighting the suicidal voice, it is saying: “But YOU’LL be dead, what will you care?” That’s when being both a Jew AND a Buddhist kicks in (good for me and the rest of you) and replies: IT MATTERS! I have a responsibility to others b/c I am in community (as a Jew) and also I am acting in a fundamentally deluded manner that will have definite negative karmic results (as a Buddhist).
So how DO I choose life? I do so by attending services and thereby being in community. (Thank you to my good friend G.S. for enabling me to join TWO shuls in this brave new connected world!) I do so by deepening my Buddhist practice. (Thank you to the two wonderful sites I use online.) I have an excellent pdoc without whom I would flounder. A therapist would be nice, but at this point is cake, thanks to my less-than-helpful insurance coverage for such things. And of course I must mention the companionship of my whippet, Miss P. Her faithful and patient love has truly changed my life, and I will be forever grateful.
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What We Can Do When All The News Is Bad (Poem)
Lay me down some clean licks;
We all need some cool kicks-
A sick beat or a slow jam,
We’ll take what we can.
Every day is so hard.
This is why we need to dance
And sing, though we are crying.
Let our hearts and bodies move.
Our troubles, our troubles are many, yeah,
But they will not throw us down.
We have known joys, too.
Joys to hold in the air
And toss to each other as we dance
In the midst of our mourning.
We have known greatness
And will again, for we are strong.
Strong enough to move on
To do the work that need to be done
With gladness in our hearts
And resolution in our steps.
Sing, dance, cry, move, mourn,
Work hard and finally, brothers and sisters and all kindred,
Oh, yes, V>O>T>E.
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End Of The Year (Poem)
How did I number my days and nights this year past?
They sometimes seem to stretch so agonizingly into forever
Yet indeed they flee so razor-sharp fast.
I have found myself lost in memories , immersed in songs,
Even given to dancing, and tried to help right some wrongs.
Like all , I’m weighed in the balance, the scales will be set.
I’ll not ask nor expect mercy. Just Accept what I get.
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Sunday Evening
This is the hard time.
The time when I think about my friends.
Some drink, smoke or do other more questionable things.
I don’t have any such refuge.
I face this onslaught by holding on as I can
(By letting go of holding on).
I pace the floors, consider making a sound but no,
And breathe into the pain.
Step; inhale; step; exhale….
I remind myself when I pause
The worst that could happen would be the best outcome.
Eventually, thankfully, this WILL end.
One way or another. Nothing lasts forever.
Walk; breathe; walk; breathe.
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Grief-root
This grief twists around me,
A primordial root connected to the fundamental wailing
Pulled from the the soul of the earth.
My tears are the salt of the sea and the stream of the rain;
They are water itself and life-
Bitter and burning and flow.
I scream so loud it swallows the universe.
My laments echo down time’s corridors
Like fell black-winged horses running a doomed apocalyptic race.
My words are forever etched on the very pillars of creation itself.
I am done.