for even a short time

We gesture. 

‘Stay, hi, see ya, c’mon closer, I honor you, pass the biscuits.’

Our bodies are a language unto themselves. We speak by appearance, presence, movement and stillness.

When one displays the buddha mudra

with one's whole body and mind,

sitting upright in this samadhi

for even a short time,

everything in the entire dharma world

becomes buddha mudra,

and all space in the universe

completely becomes enlightenment.

—Dogen (1200-1253)

Our bodies are signatures to unspoken statements urging toward understanding and respect.

We are a standing or sitting panegyric. Our bodies say ‘look through this’ and ‘see what is being pointed to’.

Become the path to enlightenment.

Travel yourself along the trail covered by oak leaves to open vistas and stand in reverence with everything watching with you.

my oh my

 Mississippi 

Has new senator

Congratulations 

sterkowski, poland

 All these hats

Only one head

Yeah yeah

Don’t ask

There’s no 

Excuse 

no-where to go

 It's true, i've been thinking about death. It took a turn off barnestown road and drove into dooryard. It took me to visit the ct scan and mri machines at the hospital, the cancer care folks, the pharmacy in town, the tired naps and slow realization there's no need to buy an electric bike or renew passport. I order gifts for son, niece, and nephew who'll visit at thanksgiving. 

I read and listen to books, novels and scholarly works. When I feel up to it I go into prison on monday and friday mornings.

I sit a lot. My coccyx is dissatisfied with so much sitting. 

I sit with God. God is silent. Unloquacious, as I am.

"Nothing in all creation is so like God as stillness." (--Meister Eckhart)

 I'm at the age people die. I see it every day. Octogenarians fill NYTimes newsprint. The famous get their own columns. The hoi polloi get an inch in back pages.

I think my epitaph should read "Neither here nor there."

I suspect there's no-where to go.

So, I will.

When time un-presents Itself.

invitatory

 First light

Tree limbs bare

Is that you

on our blindness

 to all veterans

well done

thank you

for your service

to all who didn't

serve

stand and wait

recognize when 

it arises

what is asked

say yes, act with

decency and honor

then just return

 Has it been hundreds of years? I'm aware of 82. Perhaps a little more sitting and kinhin and it will become clear.

Turn around the light to shine within,
then just return.
Let go of hundreds of years
and relax completely.
Open your hands and walk,
innocently.

--Shitou Xiqian (700-790) 

 石頭希遷 Shitou Xiqian (700–790)  參同契 Cantongq Rōmaji:) Sekitō Kisen: Sandōkai English:) Harmony of Difference and Equality / Identity of Relative and Absolute / Inquiry into Matching Halves

Happy that the US election turned out as it did. Looking forward to the diminishing of corruption.

As for my soul -- looking forward to the diminishing of corruption.

The universe comprises all of existence: all forms of matter and energy in space and time, and the structures they form, from subatomic particles to entire galactic filaments. Since the early 20th century, the field of cosmology has established that the universe has been expanding for 13.8 billion years, starting from a dense fireball in an event called the Big Bang.^[9] The observable portion of the universe is approximately 93 billion light-years in diameter at present. The total size of the universe is not known.^[10]  wikipedia

Pretty big, pretty old.

When I die I'm told i will dissolve back into the size and duration of the universe. Mommy and daddy. The stories told. The explanations, the interpretations, the heuristics.

Is God that which the universe explicates? Or is the universe our supposition of God?

It is Tuesday. I need coffeemilk, diet tonic and hormone treatment preparation pills from town.

Life doesn't end. 

It becomes Itself.

Open your hands and walk 

innocently. 

morning, after stroll with ensõ

 cats get midday treat

dog gets biscuit

i get boost 

november shrivels

oak leaves on path

to (again) running brook

just beyond yurt

an infinity times bigger?

 This poem goes into prison this morning.

God Is Not a Father 

BY JASWINDER BOLINA

When you ask, I tell you God is just a word for things

We don’t understand yet. Outside the packed tavern,

A solitary drunk staggers into a sudden shaft of sun

Like he’s about to be raptured or transported

Onto a starship. The furry waveform of a squirrel

Bounds into the hard particles of traffic. You look small

Even for a little kid eating Goldfish® crackers

In a booster seat in the rearview mirror. When you ask,

I tell you some call it God, but others call it Om

Or Satnam or Unkulunkulu, and some call it Father,

But god is not a father. Because god is a mommy?

You ask. I tell you maybe, but some say god is

Something greater than a mommy or a daddy.

You say, Nothing is greater than mommy.

I tell you maybe, but some say god is the first cause,

And some say God is the last word, and some don’t

Say anything at all because      is supposed to be

A sound louder than the mouth, an idea bigger

Than the mind. A billion or a quadrillion

Or an infinity times bigger? I tell you

Nothing is bigger than the mind. I tell you

Infinity is just a word for things we haven’t

Figured out yet. Some say it isn’t even real.

But you say, Infinity is real, and I tell you maybe

Because a father doesn’t need to be a zealot or a cudgel.

It starts to rain. The wipers wave back and forth

Like arms above a revival. You inhale

A boxful of raisins. You pound a pouchful of yogurt.

I call you a bottomless bunny, and you giggle

Like a windchime. We drive through the downpour

Listening to human music. You ask, How did I learn

How to talk? You ask, How does the rain rain?

You ask, Who was the first person? Was he lonely?

The rain stops. A sunburst douses the road

In a nearly intolerable light. I tell you, By listening.

I tell you, By gravity. I tell you the first person

Was a squiggle of nucleotides dropped

From a meteorite into a bubble of petroleum

In a tide pool on the Proterozoic earth. You ask,

When will we be home? I want to see Mommy.

I tell you maybe six minutes.

I tell you probably ten.

Source: Poetry (November 2026

Those four minutes . . . truly, an infinity times bigger.

the overcoat of logos

 I read

(A joyful vice)

Words 

Entice thought

A worthy gift

Of aught and sought

corpus dilectum

 Where have you

Carried me, body

To that tick’s mouth

On lower leg

The drop of blood

The itch, the ointment

mar atá dia

pills

proliferate

glasses of water

sink them

down esophagus 

returning glass

to sink

empty

ready for

evening diet tonic-

water with ice

watching britbox

through 6pm pill

10pm pill

bedtime pills

I’m sick

of them,

medicines for

WM, plus another

stage IV, my

semi-cranky 

attitude

as body

folds into Itself, 

mar atá Dia

(as God is)

saturday

 Everything has changed

Nothing

To look forward to

What a gift

A rainy day

This bed

A nap

Such joy

of course death with dignity, just not yet

Rain soaked 

Fog nestles in trees

A new treatment

For new cancer

To begin

Doctor is optimistic

Forestalling hospice

We leave hospital office

Drink coffee at harbor

An incoming tide

Creamy quiche

Demasted sailboats

bottom line

 God doesn’t

Care if I believe

In God

God only

Cares that 

Love occurs

stepping out

 rain

wet leaves

barn door

is itself each stasis

The frugality of Robert Creeley.

With metaphor, we are being carried within and through what seems to be right there, before us, into something off to the side, unimposing, while showing us through and through.

The author affirms that the poetical work 

with language oscillates between voice and

thought, presence and absence. This argument

contributes to his statement which says that

every true poet can perfectly develop precise

reasoning and abstract thought, since the most

authentic philosophy is in the objects we

observe and reflect upon, as well as in the act of

thinking itself and its maneuvers (idem, p. 208).

Valéry approximates the act of philosophical

thought to the poet’s process of thinking, and affirms

that the poet has his/her abstract thought and, as some

say, a particular philosophy, for the poetical work

implies reflections, decisions, choices and

combinations. The author also states that the value of

a poem is in the indissolubility of sound and sense,

and the poet’s task is to give us the feeling of intimate

union between sound and spirit. He goes beyond when

he shows that this desire to get sound and sense

together is part of language itself, because there is a

priori relation between the sounds of the letters, their

union, and the meaning attributed to them. How can

“horse”, “cheval” and “cavalo” designate the same

object? According to Valéry, this process that

approximates sounds and letters and constitutes ideas

is a characteristic of metaphor. 

 

 https://www.academia.edu/82668949/Robert_Creeley_The_Minimal_Self_s_Metaphorical_Transportation_Robert_Creeley_A_transporta%C3%A7%C3%A3o_metaf%C3%B3rica_do_m%C3%ADnimo_eu_

Self’s Metaphorical 

Robert Creeley: A transportação metafórica do mínimo eu, by Rubelise da Cunha)

It is both sweet and unimaginable to be carried away, to travel through and through, the unexpected and the revelation of it.

    “Focus” e “Shadow”: the minimal self’s gaze 

FOCUS  

 

Patches of grey 

sky tree’s 

lines window 

frames the 

plant hangs 

in middle. 

SHADOW  

 

There is a shadow 

to intention a place 

it comes through and 

is itself each stasis 

of its mindedness ex- 

plicit walled into 

semblance it is a 

seemingly living place 

it wants it fades it 

comes and goes it puts 

a yellow flower in a pot 

in a circle and looks. 

 (--ibid)

 There are tired leaves holding on to nearby nearly bare branches off northeast edge of house before barnestown road.

I glance at them.

They are seen.

omni tempore

 Dog snores in other room

Darkness at window panes

My brothers and sisters

Pray night office from choir stalls

Say it, go ahead

Benedícam Dóminum 

In ómni témpore.— I will

Bless the Lord at all times

the interconnexion in inviolable

It’s never good when your oncologist calls you at home the night before your next day appointment with him to prepare you for what he’ll have to say to you at that appointment.

What the Stoics call fate, which they identify with the working out of the – rational and predictable – will of Zeus, is “a certain natural everlasting ordering of the whole: one set of things follows on and succeeds another, and the interconnexion in inviolable” (Aulus Gellius, 55K). In other words, every event that occurs in the world is the result of a cause or chain of causes, so that everything that happens is metaphysically determined by preceding causes in the chain (but not logically necessary; cf. de Harven 2016). This sequence of causes is inescapable. 

 

The inescapability of this sequence of causes leads to concerns about action and moral responsibility. The first worry, which takes the form of the so-called “lazy argument” (Cicero, 55S) is that, if all my actions and their consequences are predetermined, there is no point in acting at all: why call the doctor when ill, if it is determined that the doctor will come? The second worry is that if my actions come about by prior causes, they are not in my power and I am therefore not truly responsible for them. 

 

In response to the former challenge, Chrysippus claimed that not all events are independent of one another. Rather, some are co-fated: part of one and the same causal chain in such a way that they cannot be dissociated. The call to the doctor and the doctor’s coming are so joined, as is the patient’s healing. The doctor will not come if she is not called, and the patient will not heal if the doctor does not come. Calling the doctor is thus not superfluous or pointless. The consequences of our actions may be predetermined, but only insofar as they are caused by our actions. Our actions are thus not pointless: we must act in order to ensure their consequences come about (see further critical discussion in Brennan 2005, ch. 16). 

 https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/stoicism/

Well, that explains everything.

I will ask about medically assisted you know what. The thought of which does not deter my so-called journey.

He’s a nice chap, the doctor.

Until tomorrow then. 

by a way in which you possess not

John of the Cross, imprisoned for nine months in 1577, wrote this:  

To reach satisfaction in all,

desire its possession in nothing.

To come to the knowledge of all, desire the knowledge of nothing.

To come to possess all, desire the possession of nothing. 

To arrive at being all, desire to be nothing.

To come to the pleasure you have not,

you must go by a way in which you enjoy not.

To come to the knowledge you have not,

you must go by a way in which you know not.

To come to the possession you have not,

you must go by a way in which you possess not.

To come to be what you are not,

you must go by a way in which you are not.

When you turn toward something,

you cease to cast yourself upon the all.

For to go from the all to the all,

you must leave yourself in all.

And when you come to the possession of all,

you must possess it without wanting anything.

In this nakedness the spirit finds its rest,

for when it covets nothing,

nothing raises it up,

and nothing weighs it down,

because it is in the center of its humility.

___ St. John of the Cross (1542-1591)

 I’m unsure of many things.

Life feels tenuous. I say aloud I’m not sure I look forward to an afterlife. In fact, I prefer there not be an afterlife. No God, no angels, relatives, friends, familiarities known during this spate of existence.

Just that. No burning hell, no soothing heaven. Neither. 

And why do I feel this way? I’m not sure. Perhaps it's the hermit speaking -- to be left alone -- or, in this case, to enter the alone without any interior or exterior reference.

The terrain and aesthetic of anesthesia without the bother of return.

And if there is an afterlife, perhaps one can apply for a passport exempting entrance into something while remaining outside the gates in nothing.

And if there is a God, and God is merciful,  I’ll be ignored and let not be.

Why go on?

Let the psychic and material protons, electrons, neutrons, atoms and improbable units of the cosmos go their separate ways back into the universe without cohesion, shape, or identity.

I don’t know about those medieval mystics or pre-socratic philosophers and where they were pointing -- but I feel some of what they felt.

I can, I think, let it go.

When I die, you’ll never know.

Nor, most likely, will I.

Possessing not.

chanson du matin

 Watching morning light

Rising through bare branches

One more Dawn

One empty mind

Just pale grey

Beyond Buddha and cross

I cannot imagine

Being anywhere else

Nor wish to be

Anyone else

One large bird

Flies toward Bald Mountain

As cat claws box

in hallway

N’est pas vrai et belle?

Oui, mon amour, oui

pacem in terris

 Sleep well, 

I’m told

That would

Be nice

Wouldn’t 

It

planck

 The universe is thinking through you.

https://youtu.be/B3O7Yth-dqM?si=TxPcBLnwQSw0O-Zd

Is it thought made manifest?

the morning after

 can we?

love ourselves?

love our neighbors?

ask, go ahead, ask

yesterday, 

on Election Day

cruelty lost

corruption called out

can we 

hear what we said

do what is necessary?

phew

Well, that was some election!

i voted

 the person has spoken

democracy is alive

corruption be damned

the holy unfathoming few

 Holiness

 is found 

In the

Unfathoming few

Continuing to

Carry through

With care

all souls

 We honor the dead

Those who lived

This life

itadakimasu (いただきます)

 She died today

Those years ago

Husband by her side

His Cambridge chemistry

Their Yale romance

The nun freed and out

I didn’t know

She’d been ill

I didn’t know

Ten years ago

Fifty years later

The flower ungrasped

Children’s hands

Offering sweet petals

A frozen picture

Devoted friendship

Fallen frieze

Crumbled into words

Where, gratefully received,

A slow honoring bow

To each thanks and yes

few, whereof one cannot speak

 God

God is

God is not

God is not only

God is not only good

God is not only good but

God is not only good but impossible

God is not only good but impossible too 

God is not only good but impossible to fathom.

But holiness knows this.

Which is why there are so few saints.

Cheers to the unfathoming few

Silently among us

wu wei involves letting go of ideals that we may otherwise try to force too violently onto things

Watts and Taoism, delightful All Saints imbroglio of his life and mine, sun streaming into wohnkūche on the morning of ambivalent hour and the last roll of cloud paper in WC.

Sitting still, doing nothing, and falling leaf shadow passes through peripheral vision.

WU WEI – DOING NOTHING 無爲

Wu wei means – in Chinese – non-doing or ‘doing nothing’. It sounds like a pleasant invitation to relax or worse, fall into laziness or apathy. Yet this concept is key to the noblest kind of action according to the philosophy of Daoism – and is at the heart of what it means to follow Dao or The Way. According to the central text of Daoism, the Dao De Jing: ‘The Way never acts yet nothing is left undone’. This is the paradox of wu wei. It doesn’t mean not acting, it means ‘effortless action’ or ‘actionless action’. It means being at peace while engaged in the most frenetic tasks so that one can carry these out with maximum skill and efficiency. Something of the meaning of wu wei is captured when we talk of being ‘in the zone’ – at one with what we are doing, in a state of profound concentration and flow.

  

wu wei

Wu wei is closely connected to the Daoist reverence for the natural world, for it means striving to make our behaviour as spontaneous and inevitable as certain natural processes, and to ensure that we are swimming with rather than against currents. We are to be like the bamboo that bends in the wind or the plant that adjusts itself to the shape of a tree. Wu wei involves letting go of ideals that we may otherwise try to force too violently onto things; it invites us instead to respond to the true demands of situations, which tend only to be noticed when we put our own ego-driven plans aside. What can follow is a loss of self-consciousness, a new unity between the self and its environment, which releases an energy that is normally held back by an overly aggressive, wilful style of thinking. 

https://www.theschooloflife.com/article/wu-wei-doing-nothing/

 All the times I’ve run into a wall (who put that there?) this body and psyche have been bruised and cut. Time takes care of rescinding each impasse leaving a log of the body’s insults and mind’s trauma.

This morning, cat on lap, I delight that elsewhere buddhist, christian, jewish, muslim, hindu, and atheistic compañeros are practicing (or non-practicing) their take on the world and existence with an equanimous mind and beneficent spirit equal to the radiant sunlight crawling up this chair.

What do we have to do?

How live through this ephemera? 

Whither prayer? Why and why not?

Reverence.

I bow to each and all, worthy or unworthy, selvedged or unselvedged.

And remain sitting in the stillness of this passing moment.

Unreservedly grateful.