Monday, October 24, 2016

sounds like code in da node

we hand out red noses at practice last evening

at table, we are clowns

looking through opinions

as the perennial argument

about who’s right who’s wrong

what’s good what’s bad

lapses into silence --

who could take anything said

by someone wearing a red clown’s nose


Sunday, October 23, 2016

this is what becomes of me

You and I are the hands and feet of the cosmos building and traveling itself into its next expression.

There is something we do not understand, namely, who we really are in the evolving expansion of the universe, in the minute to minute breath of this breathing body glancing at these words.

We are the earth, the cosmos, the universe, all of (what we call) creation -- in its current expression on its way to who knows where who knows what.
The Four Reliances

First, rely on the spirit and meaning of the teachings, not on the words; 
Second, rely on the teachings, not on the personality of the teacher;  
Third, rely on real wisdom, not superficial interpretation;  
And fourth, rely on the essence of your pure Wisdom Mind, not on judgmental perceptions.

(Traditional Buddhist teaching )
We are not isolated, not separate, not detached. We are, rather, moving through this life and existence with one another in ways we cannot see nor understand.

Some are dubious of this absence of understanding and do not like the suggestion of a connection not initiated by them. This is understandable. It is difficult to trust what is not seen nor understood.

And still the earth, the cosmos, the universe moves through us as we are moving through it.

Would that wisdom were as simple as a cup of coffee.

Brew it. Pour it. Sip it. It becomes you. You become it.

This Sunday afternoon in October, this is what I’ve become.

Saturday, October 22, 2016

after gust

The good thing

about rain is

there’s ground

to receive it

Friday, October 21, 2016

poems don’t need much, space

 Two by Antonio Porchia:

We don’t forgive being as we are.

Don’t speak to me. I want to be with you.
from “Voices”

Thursday, October 20, 2016


An infestation.

Who needs to worry about the enemies we make in Middle East,

Our dogs and cats are smuggling in a fierce ravager every hour.

We are bitten.

We become infected.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016


In a quiet hospital room

seventeen years ago

How deeply we shared

this night

How fond

we remain

ne rien, mon frere

The hermit in the attic signing belongs to the French Cistercian Trappists in Bianco's book Voices of Silence (1991).

Today he visits in description this quiet porch as night rain gives way to sun through colored autumn leaves.

This is not that.

Nor that this.

This is this.

And that's that.

Don't mention it, brother.

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

someone wrote and mentioned faith

I respond:

If there's anything I am "sure" about is that kindness, compassion, and conversation surrounding authentic inquiry will serve well those participating. 

That might be the definition of faith I work with.

And even if I doubted an endgame benefit to such a practice, I still find the shared inquiry worth engaging in.

Like the sitting practice of shikantaza, just sitting, just doing it, is well enough alone.

Monday, October 17, 2016

Veux-tu danser avec moi ?


     Has known God,

Not the God of names,

Not the God of don'ts,

Not the God who never does

      Anything weird,

But the God who only knows four words

and keeps repeating them, saying;

Come dance with me










no one




sometimes something shortens itself




Sunday, October 16, 2016

tell me about your mother

If everything mothers everything, is there anything not mother?

Mer, mère,  mare, Mary. 

Sea, moving in and out of itself.


Everything moves in and out of everything else.

Honor your mother.

And your father.

There, that's covered.

Saturday, October 15, 2016

saturday morning practice

Stepping into 
                      (Saskia’s words during round-circle)

Friday, October 14, 2016

ok, its autumn

Exactly 1500.0 miles on trip odometer as we pull into dooryard.

monastery, ns

monastery ns

approaching woodstock nb
Now, back in maine.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

finally, good news

BREAKING NEWSBob Dylan has won the Nobel Prize in Literature for "poetic expressions within the great American song tradition."8:13 AM Nytimes

You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun
Look out the saints are comin' through
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense
Take what you have gathered from coincidence
The empty handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets
This sky, too, is folding under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home
Your empty handed armies, are all going home
Your lover who just walked out the door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor
The carpet, too, is moving under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start a new
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
Songwriters: Bob Dylan
It's All Over Now, Baby Blue lyrics © Bob Dylan Music Co. 

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Tuesday, October 11, 2016

fiddle player

Nice to hear Colin Grant back to Celtic Colors at Dorymen Pub in Cheticamp live streaming tonight.

His playing has something to it.

Monday, October 10, 2016

hunting debate

Concerning the debate Sunday night: What a shame-ing!

Trump, for the good of the country, (a reasonable person might say), must lose.

But not before he tries to destroy and shame this woman who dares to make him
a loser.

It is a sorry spectacle.

We feel ashamed watching the hunt.

not the opposite

Enough about politics.

It is about suffering.

How everyone suffers.

And no one really knows how to diminish, much less eliminate, suffering in their own life or the larger world.

Visiting St Peters' church in Ingonesh after hike on Middle Head for two hours, we sat in silent emptiness.

Like Thay's meditation bell's sudden sounding, we stop to breathe and allow the presence of what is itself-present to visit the passing presence of our sitting in silence during and beyond.

Grave markers and large cross in cemetery with backdrop of North Atlantic expounded our participation in the unfolding folding-in of an existence not yet complete not yet seen not yet spoken nor heard clearly.

So we listen.

So we clear our throats to open our mouths to breathe the silence needed to discern what listening to the sound of what is being said reveals about bodies belonging where words are.

Not the opposite.

Sunday, October 09, 2016

eh? yeah, eh!

These two, Mr Trump and Mrs Clinton, are the choices for US presidency.

Glad to be in Canada tonight.

Saturday, October 08, 2016

mountains and hills

What is wanted is good theology.
"Bad theology is like pornography -- the imagination of a real relationship without the risk of one. It tends to be transactional and propositional rather than relational and mysterious."
"It dehumanizes God and turns the wonder and the messy mystery of intimate relationship into a centerfold to be used and discarded." 
(William Paul Young, in foreword to Ricard Rohr and Mike Morrell's Divine Dance, the Trinity and your transformation, c.2016)
Not the demented pornography of power and wealth pretending to be other than what they are.

The word "humanizes" attracts. To be human is to embrace the sanctity of the ordinary and participate in the clarity of emerging awareness of our true interrelational intimacy honoring one another's solitude and distinctiveness.

This is a morning prayer of early October with Thérèse, Angels, Francis, and Bruno.

Through window where two good dogs practice what we humans need to be trained into.

Friday, October 07, 2016

Please note -- weekend of 7Oct--10Oct

There will be no formal practice at the hermitage this weekend.
The meditation cabin remains available for your use.
Happy Canadian Thanksgiving from Cape Breton!

Thursday, October 06, 2016

St John River, Thursday evening

A contemplative, like Bruno, in 11th century, would silently affirm this umwelt.

Outside Fredericton, New Brunswick, Canada 

Wednesday, October 05, 2016

to "reveal" the veil

Here’s a thought, primordial wisdom has no author.

Nor any mind which has thought such wisdom.

Raimon Panikkar’s words:
We refer, first, to the traditional notion of the apauruseya or non-authorship, either humanor divine, of the Vedas. This theory is often been ridiculed as a contradiction of commonsense and as a denial of causal thinking; or it has been taken as simply holding that theVedas have no “author" who has written them and no "mind" that has thought them. Without entering into the almost endless subtleties of the Mimamsa, we can simply say that at the core of this conception there is a desire to purify our relationship with the text and to avoid any kind of idolatry. Any one of us is the author of the Vedas when we read, pray, and understand them. Nobody is the author of living words except the one who utters them. The Vedas are living words, and the word is not an instrument of Man but his supreme form of expression. What has no author, according to the apauruseya insight, is the relation between the word and its meaning or object. The relationship is not an artificial or extrinsic relation caused by somebody. There is no author to posit the type of relationship which exists between the word and its meaning. To do this we would require another relationship and so on ad infinitum. When a word ceases to be a living word, when it ceases to convey meaning, when it is not a word for me, it is not Veda, it does not convey real or saving knowledge. This conception, paradoxically enough, rescues the Vedas from the grip not only of a certain God functioning as a primal scribe, but also of the Hindu tradition, which cannot be said to be the author of the Vedas. The Vedas without an author cease to be an authoritative book. Only when you become their “author,” when through assimilation you are able to utter them, when you yourself are the proper origin, the author of the text, do the Vedas disclose their authentic "authority." 
The Vedic Revelation is not the voice of an anthropomorphic Revealer nor the unveiling of the veil that covers reality. In point of fact, the shruti * is that which is heard (rather than seen), so that the metaphor of unveiling may sometimes be misleading, because it is not by lifting up the veil (and thus seeing the naked reality) that we are going to discover the real, but by realizing that the veil covers and conceals and that the discovery of this fact constitutes the actual revelation. To reveal in this sense is not to unveil, to lift up the veil, but to “ reveal” the veil, to make us aware that what we see and all we can see is the veil, and that it is left to us to “guess”--or, as we would say, to “think"-- reality, which is made manifest precisely by the veil that covers it. We cannot separate the veil from the thing that is veiled, just as we cannot separate a word from its meaning, or what is heard from what is understood. If I were to lift up the veil of maya I would see nothing. We can see only if we see the veil of maya and recognize it for what it is. The shruti is shruti when that which is actually heard is not merely the sound but all that there is to be heard, perceived, understood, realized. Our own discovery, our process of discovery, is part of the revelation itself. Only in the spirit are the Vedas Vedas. And now we can understand why for centuries they were neither written down nor expounded to outsiders.  
(--pp.10-11, from The Vedic Experience, Hinduism’s Contemporary Holy Bible, By Raimon Panikkar) 
(Shruti, ( Sanskrit: “What Is Heard”) in Hinduism,  cf.
If this is so, then what we do is think through the veil.

So many I speak with might be interested in this view.

I am.

This chilly October morning.

Tuesday, October 04, 2016

Francis, this, 4Oct


He was grounded

As Christ was,


In a cosmos

Mostly empty

Where being is

what is

And non-being

is what is not --

Francis walked earth

echoing old appraisal

This, this is good

(Not not-bad, but

as it is, this

is good)

Locating peace there

side by each

--pace e bene--

this variation of

("è" is, & "e" and --

the small accent that





(wait for it)


perfect joy

Monday, October 03, 2016

Sunday, October 02, 2016

tutti gli angeli

thinking about angels is

 thinking about intimations

the suggestions wandering through

barely attentive consciousness

messages, some say, on cusp of

sunlight and shadow, calling

here I am

here I am

here I am

where are you

Saturday, October 01, 2016

je m’appelle Térèse

What little


in rain

does not

open itself

for all

to see


Friday, September 30, 2016

hands together

What if God is

I Am

or, Reality is

You are --

is Job or Christ

arriving at

doing the right thing

being what is right here

I ask you

with two hands together

is there nothing other

to do

to be

but this wholeness