Today At Meetingbrook

Friday, August 01, 2014

The cat said to St. Peter, "Oh well!"

At poetry today Walt reads Flynn poem.

Forty-Seven Minutes 
        (Poem by Nick Flynn, b.1960) 
Years later I’m standing before a roomful of young writers in a high school in Texas. I’ve asked them to locate an image in a poem we’d just read—their heads at this moment are bowed to the page. After some back & forth about the grass & a styrofoam cup, a girl raises her hand & asks, Does it matter? I smile—it is as if the universe balanced on those three words & we’ve landed in the unanswerable. I have to admit that no, it doesn’t, not really, matter, if rain is an image or rain is an idea or rain is a sound in our heads. But, I whisper, leaning in close, to get through the next forty-seven minutes we might have to pretend it does.
We talk about it. We like it. In the group there are four people in their 90s. The eldest is 98. She reads two cat poems. 

She says she never expected to live this long. Born in 1916. She's been part of the poetry group for the five years it's been going on.

We pretend we'll continue to go on as long as we can.

It matters.

Thursday, July 31, 2014

that’s ok; I’ll just hang out here

Reading Dan Berrigan on Deuteronomy for Thursday Evening Practice, No Gods But One.

He remains stark favorite.

Moses, the people’s leader for forty years, is denied entrance to the land he dreamt about.

Berrigan can always spot the bitter-sweet emptiness of all action.

Wednesday, July 30, 2014

numbers are people; in both Gaza and Israel

From Glenn Greenwald:
Published on
The Intercept
Terrorism in the Israeli Attack on Gaza, by Glenn Greenwald 
As I’ve written many times before, “terrorism” is, and from the start was designed to be, almost entirely devoid of discernible meaning. It’s a fear-mongering slogan, lacking any consistent application, intended to end rational debate and justify virtually any conduct by those who apply the term. But to the extent it means anything beyond that, it typically refers to the killing of civilians as a means of furthering political or military goals.
Below are two charts reflecting the deaths of civilians, soldiers and “militants” in both Gaza and Israel since the July 8 Israeli attack began. The statistics used are unduly generous toward Israel, since “militants” in Gaza are often nothing more than residents who take up arms to defend their homes against an invading and occupying army. Even with that generous interpretation, these numbers, standing alone, tell a powerful story: 
graph (1) graph (2) 
If you landed on earth from another planet this week, knowing nothing other than the most common use of the word “terrorism,” which side do you think would most frequently be referred to as “terrorists”?
Often, the most vivid illustration of the criminality of this attack comes not from data but from isolated stories. Yesterday, for instance, “in Khan Younis, five members of the Najjar family, which lost 21 people in a previous strike, were killed.” Meanwhile, “in the Al Bureij refugee camp in central Gaza, an airstrike from an F-16 killed the mayor, Anis Abu Shamala, and four others in his home, some of whom had taken refuge there from intense artillery shelling nearby.” 
At the same time, the Israeli government’s messaging machine quickly switched from hyping rocket attacks, which were causing relatively little damage, to featuring what it began calling “terror tunnels”. The U.S. media dutifully followed suit, with CNN anchor (and former AIPAC employee) Wolf Blitzer touring a “terror tunnel” led around by the IDF and his flashlight, while the New York Times’ Jodi Rudoren did the same in an article headlined “Tunnels Lead Right to the Heart of Israeli Fear,” quoting “Israeli military officials”, “an Israeli military spokesman”, and “Israeli experts”. But a separate article in the NYT highlighted how these “terror tunnels” are actually used:
The strikes during the Muslim holiday of Eid al-Fitr came after the latest humanitarian halt to hostilities was punctured by attacks on both sides, culminating in the most deadly incursion yet by Palestinian militants through an underground tunnel from Gaza into Israel. 
Colonel Lerner said Tuesday that between four and eight gunmen had burst from the tunnel near a military watchtower near the border and killed five soldiersin an adjacent building with antitank missiles.
In American media discourse, when Palestinians overwhelmingly kill soldiers (95% of the Israeli death toll) who are part of an army that is blockading, occupying, invading, and indiscriminately bombing them and killing their children by the hundreds, that is “terrorism”; when Israelis use massive, brutal force against a trapped civilian population, overwhelmingly killing innocent men, women and children (at least 75% of the Palestinian death toll), with clear intentions to kill civilians (see point 3), that is noble “self-defense.” That demonstrates how skewed U.S. discourse is in favor of Israel, as well as the purely manipulative, propagandistic nature of the term “terrorists.”

what do you think

Ode to Bach in E-flat Major
(two days breathing space)

morning at harbor

afternoon at Still,Marbles


reflection of things

becoming themselves

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

turn yourself inside out

Israeli bombs blow up Gaza. Many die. Many more are bloodied and hurt. In this awful choice by Israel to kill children, civilians, and decency Israel begins to forfeit whatever remaining sympathy and support there might be over its own darkened history.

Similarly, in prison yesterday, some men wondered how anyone could worship or respect the deity in biblical literature with its slaughtering commands, punishing ways, and honoring of deception and betrayal.

Then, this morning's news, Israel.

Published on Tuesday, July 29, 2014by Jon Queally, staff writerCommon Dreams 
More Than 100 Killed in 14 Hours as Gaza Death Toll Rises Above 1,200
      US continues to back Israeli assault despite international condemnation
The death toll in the Gaza Strip has now passed 1,200 people since Israel began bombing on July 8 and the Palestinian Ministry of Health reports Tuesday that more than 100 people were killed in the fourteen hours from overnight Monday into morning as mosques, homes, and other structures were hit during a sharp intensification of the bombardment.
In addition to homes, Gaza's main power plant was struck by Israeli shells which caused a massive explosion and a fire that sent thick plumes of black smoke into the air. Already suffering from massive power outages and a water crisis that puts the entire population at risk, the damage to the plant signals that those problems will likely worsen in the days ahead.
According to the Ma'an News Agency:

Earlier statements from the ministry had given the number of dead at around 57 for the morning, but after consultation with hospitals across the Strip the total was revised to more than 100 dead and hundreds more injured.
The Ministry of Health also said that as of Monday night nearly 5,000 homes had been completely destroyed, while tens of thousands more had been partially destroyed.
The United Nations, meanwhile, estimated that more than 215,000 Gazans had fled their home, or more than 10 percent of the besieged coastal enclave's total population.
Late Monday, Israeli authorities had given 400,000 Gazans evacuation orders, but with all the borders closed and the Israeli bombardment and ground invasion continuing in the northern, central, and southern Gaza Strip, the vast majority had nowhere to go except UN shelters.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said that the military campaign against the people of Gaza will continue until all the tunnels used by Hamas are destroyed. 
 What do you pray to? Who? Toward what end? Is prayer a quaint remnant of a magical consciousness that hopes for deus ex machina change?

Those whose business it is to write about the bombs and blisters of Middle East life measure the intent and strategies of Israel and Hamas as if a chess match before cocktails. Here in Maine this duet of disaster feels like the Tennessee prison extraction of an inmate in August 2010:
Inmate's death by Riverbend guards was homicide     Posted: Jan 31, 2011 3:31 PM EST
 Inmate Charles Toll died last August from asphyxia with suffocation.Inmate Charles Toll died last August from asphyxia with suffocation. 
NASHVILLE, Tenn. - The state medical examiner has classified as a homicide an inmate's death at the hands of guards at the Riverbend Maximum Security Institution.
The Tennessean reports the medical examiner's officer watched a video of prison guards trying to get Charles Jason Frank Toll out of his cell on Aug. 17.
An autopsy report by Dr. John Davis says Toll was handcuffed behind his back and put face down on the floor where guards held him down for 10 minutes with a riot shield.
Toll was unresponsive and had distressed breathing for about five minutes. When guards rolled him on his back, he didn't have a pulse.
Davis declared that Toll died from asphyxia with suffocation.
Toll had been serving a 30-year sentence on multiple charges including aggravated burglary, escape and theft. 
Also, New York Times, 29July2014, 
There's no need to take my own life. My life is being taken in Gaza. My life was taken in Tennessee.

The author of Ecclesiastes knows meaninglessness. Meaning is not given nor is it a given.
It is found between us.

Ghazal 10

Curls dishevelled, sweating, laughing, and drunk,
shirt torn, singing ghazals, flask in hand,
his eyes seeking a quarrel, his lips saying, 'Alas!',
last night at midninght he came and sat by my pillow.
He bent his head to my ear and said, sadly,
'O my anicent lover, are you sleeping?'
The seeker to whom they give such a cup at dawn
is an infidel to love if he will not worship wine.
O ascetic, go, and don't quibble with those who drink
          the dregs,
for on the eve of creation this was all they gave us.
What he poured in our cup we drank,
whether the mead of heaven or the wine of drunkenness.
The wine cup's smile and his knotted curl
have broken many vows of repentance, like that of

- See more at:
The rock opera Tommy introduces us to a new anamnesis:
See me, Feel me 
            Touch me, Heal me!
Repentance is returning to the heart.

Go ahead -- turn yourself inside out!

Monday, July 28, 2014

after rain

Bailing Jootje in Camden harbor.

Bailing immer call in Rockport harbor.

Bailing words in harbor within.


Sunday, July 27, 2014

return to the heart

Perhaps, now, pain begins.

It occurs to me that no one has understood "repentance."

Today, rowing, it occurs that it means return to the heart.

To feeling, without coercion. 

Where there is so much to feel -- joy and sorrow, delight and despair.

On the other hand, I might be the only one not understanding what repentance is.

But now, I turn around, returning.

Saturday, July 26, 2014

any day -- now -- will be released

I would like to thank law enforcement for their attempts in history to preserve law and protect people. It saddens me that there has been a drift toward militarization and partisan violence by police throughout nation.
Pulled by our own attachments, we are always chasing phantoms. Terrified, we run away from monsters created from our own aversions. So long as perception is distorted, we are unable to see the true nature of what is in front of us nothing but an ever-changing collection of sights, sounds, smells, tastes, touches, and thoughts or concepts. 
(--Bhante Henepola Gunaratana, “Like a Mirage”)
I also wish to thank the Armed Forces for their part in protecting the nation and preserving freedoms at home and abroad.
It saddens that you have been used to further the ends of select groups and particular and peculiar ideologies over time.
If you start concentrating the mind on stillness,
You will merely produce an unreal stillness.
What does the word "meditation" mean?
In this school it means no barriers, no obstacles;
It is beyond all objective situations
Whether good or bad.
The word "sitting" means
Not to stir up thoughts in the mind.
-- Hui-neng (d.713)
Finally, thank you to those you’ve chosen to be public servants in Senate or House or Supreme Court -- following the intent to guide and assure fairness and justice for all peoples.
It saddens that greed, ignorance, and narrow minded pettiness has made the workings of these bodies ludicrous and lopsided, with little real debate toward real and meaningful inclusive change.
Gaston Bachelard writes:
In poetry, wonder is coupled with the joy of speech… The poetic image is in no way comparable, as with the mode of the common metaphor, to a valve which would open up to release pent-up instincts. The poetic image sheds light on consciousness in such a way that it is pointless to look for subconscious antecedents of the image… Poetry is one of the destinies of speech. In trying to sharpen the awareness of language at the level of poems, we get the impression that we are touching the man whose speech is new in that it is not limited to expressing ideas or sensations, but tries to have a future. One would say that poetic image, in its newness, opens a future to language.

(--Gaston Bachelard (1884–1962)  in his 1960 treatise The Poetics of Reverie: Childhood, Language, and the Cosmos published in English seven years after his death)
Perhaps we will soon learn to speak.  Speak creative realization of inherant worth. Arising spirit of cooperative compassion.
It gives joy to imagine what would occur if we ever began to think.

Began to feel.

Began to begin the movement to being human.

Friday, July 25, 2014

how there is out there

There wasn’t enough room.

So he opened the door.

Stepping outside --

The sky.

Thursday, July 24, 2014

setting out in rain; coming back to where we've never left

Planes fall from sky. It is, they say, war.

Soon there will be no need for planes or war.

Real devotion only arises when you have a glimpse of emptiness, some glimpse of the nature of mind. Once you have some very precise insight as to how emptiness helps to alleviate suffering, then devotion is based on a real, embodied experience.  (--Kyabgön Phakchok Rinpoche, "Keys to Happiness")

There will be nowhere to go because everyone will be there already.

Not in imagination, really there. We will come to embody physicality. 

Touch the ground. Breath the sky. See distance in locality. Remember things as yet unhappened. Forgive things that never happened.

We are lovers like that, and besides, it was never a question of being right or wrong.

It is, however, all right, all along, for each and all.

For each is all in each.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

and with (you are) spirit

Let's see if I have this right -- if I don't do the thinking, where does the thinking come from?

Are you going to tell me that no one is doing the thinking? That things just "feel" themselves into our minds and then we become conduit for expression of what is felt into words?


Next you'll be telling me that the stories we tell ourselves about our lives are illusory fabrications and silly excuses for something not yet known.

You'll have to forgive me -- I have little patience for the false -- mine or yours.

We are each situation.

Each circumstance.

The unfolding present.

That's why the successful pretend and control and puff themselves with power, money, and position.

Meanwhile, we fools, feeling the world into existence with eager emergence, are surrounded by what is coming to be actually coming to be beyond our understanding.


That silence?

Is prayer...

Coming to be, through us.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

hunger for seeing; naked infinite love

Bodhidharma (6th c.CE) was looking for a non-deluded person. 

Ikkyu obliged.

The Haiga Pages

The Haiku and Poems of
Ikkyu Sojun/Ikkyuu Soojun (1394-1481)


A melancholy autumn wind 
Blows through the world; 
The pampas grass waves, 
As we drift to the moor, 
Drift to the sea.

What can be done 
With the mind of a man 
That should be clear 
But though he is dressed up in a monk’s robe, 
Just lets life pass him by?

Why do people 
Lavish decorations 
On this set of bones 
Destined to disappear 
Without a trace?

No one really knows 
The nature of birth 
Nor the true dwelling place. 
We return to the source 
And turn to dust.

Many paths lead
from the foot of the mountain, 
But at the peak 
We all gaze at the 
Single bright moon.

If at the end of our journey 
There is no final 
Resting place, 
Then we need not fear 
Losing our Way.

No beginning, 
No end. 
Our mind 
is born and dies: 
The emptiness of emptiness!

Rain, hail, snow and ice: 
All are different, 
But when they fall 
They become the same water 
As the valley stream.

The ways of proclaiming 
The Mind vary, 
But the same heavenly truth 
Can be seen 
In each and every one.

Cover your path 
With the fallen pine needles 
So no one will be able 
To locate your 
True dwelling place.

As Ikkyu does not think of his body
As if it were his body,
He lives in the same place,
Whether it is town or country.

This world 
Is but 
A fleeting dream 
So why by alarmed 
At its evanescence?

The vagaries of life, 
Though painful 
Teach us 
Not to cling 
To this floating world.

If you break open the cherry tree,
Where are the flowers?
But in the spring time, see how they bloom!

To write something and leave it behind us,
It is but a dream.
When we awake we know
There is not even anyone to read it.

Look at the cherry blossoms!
Their color and scent fall with them,
Are gone forever,
Yet mindless
The spring comes again.

why is it all so beautiful this fake dream
this craziness why?

this ink painting of wind 
blowing through pines
who hears it?

oh yes things exist like the echo when you yell
at the foot of a huge mountain

sin like a madman until you can't do anything else
no room for any more

fuck flattery success money
all I do is lie back and suck my thumb

one long pure beautiful road of pain
and the beauty of death and no pain

mirror facing mirror
nowhere else

sick of it whatever it's called sick of the names
I dedicate every pore to what's here

a well nobody dug filled with no water
ripples and a shapeless weightless man drinks

oh green green willow wonderfully red flower
but I know the colors are not there

the mind is exactly this tree that grass
without thought or feeling both disappear

not two not one either
and the unpainted breeze in the ink painting feels cool

Ikkyu this body isn't yours I say to myself
wherever I am I'm there

nature's a killer I won't sing to it
I hold my breath and listen to the dead singing under the grass

suddenly nothing but grief
so I put on my father's old ripped raincoat

when I was forty-seven everybody came to see me
so I walked out forever

my monk friend has a weird endearing habit
he weaves sandals and leaves them secretly by the roadside

even before trees rocks I was nothing
when I'm dead nowhere I'll be nothing

no nothing only those wintry crows
bright black in the sun

if there's nowhere to rest at the end
how can I get lost along the way?

that stone Buddha deserves all the birdshit it gets
I wave my skinny arms like a tall flower in the wind

no words sitting alone night in my hut eyes closed hands open
wisps of an unknown face

the wise know nothing at all
well maybe one song

melons eggplants rice rivers the sky
I offer them to you on this holiday

go down on your silly knees pray
for what? tomorrow is yesterday

I found my sparrow Sonrin dead one morning
and buried him just as gently as I would my own daughter

I hate it I know it's nothing but I 
suck out the world's sweet juicy plum

you stand inside me naked infinite love
the dawn bell rips my dreaming heart

When it blows,
The mountain wind is boisterous,
But when it blows not,
It simply blows not.

Dimly for thirty years;
Faintly for thirty years, -
Dinly and faintly for sixty years:
At my death, I pass my faeces and offer them to Brahma.

a comprehensive list of Ikkyu publications, links and resources is available here

 The German shepherd gentle large goofy dog who lives with us could teach Ikkyu a thing or two about leaving faeces right in the middle of hiking trails.

 I'll go rowing now, then, later, pay a man $1400 dollars to poke and prod my mouth with needle and scraper and drill. 

I don't know.

“A human being is part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. We experience ourselves, our thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from the prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. The true value of a human being is determined by the measure and the sense in which they have obtained liberation from the self. We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking if humanity is to survive.”
— Albert Einstein

I happen on website for Eternea:

The Seven Cornerstone Postulates

These postulates are predicated on contemporary research findings from frontier science in its investigatation of spiritually transformative experiences and non-local manifestations of consciousness, as well as the timeless wisdom from the core pillar teachings of the world's greatest spiritual teachers and major religions.

Indicators of Eternea's Success

Eternea's ongoing research efforts are intended to test, challenge and potentially reinforce the validity of these seven cornerstone postulates. To the extent Eternea succeeds in establishing the veracity of these postulates through the research efforts of frontier science, Eternea will be further empowered to inspire people all over the world to accept them as personal truths or convictions, which in turn would then lead to major changes in individual perceptions of reality, hence values, attitudes and behavior. The degree to which Eternea succeeds in in efforts to educate humanity about these postulates and accept them as true should result in a direct decrease in the following:

  • War and violence
  • Hunger and malnutrition
  • Poverty and despair
  • Illiteracy and ignorance
  • Environmental degradation
  • Gender and racial inequality
  • Human and animal abuse
  • Religious conflict and divisiveness
  • Political oppression
  • Greed and exploitation of others
  • Substance abuse and addiction
  • Suicide & clinical depression


Monday, July 21, 2014

yes, do enter here

The inmate suggested we read D.G Leahy. We will.

We will learn more about thinking.

Maybe we do not yet think. Perhaps things think us.

All has been consecrated. 
The creatures in the forest know this, 
The earth does, the seas do, the clouds know 
as does the heart full of 
Strange a priest would rob us of this 
and then empower himself 
with the ability 
to make holy what 
already was 
(--Poem by St Catherine of Siena, from ‘Love Poems From God’ by Daniel Ladinsky. )
What I love about holiness is the suggestion we are not holy. Rather, what is holy finds its way through us with our permission.

We have so many tutors. 

Sunday, July 20, 2014

come apart and rest awhile

Big dog comes into room and lies down.

Something about down the hall some red and green lights spooking him around his mistress.

Fear is one more thing to let go.

Saturday, July 19, 2014

something ugly this way comes

Nausea seeps through hole in space/time and turns my stomach.

 1.      Ithaca Voice / By Jeff Stein 
Notable Anti-Drone Activist and Grandmother Sentenced to Prison for Photographing Protest. Grady Flores was sentenced to jail for violating an order of protection after being part of a demonstration against drones. 
Ithaca, N.Y. — An Ithaca woman crossed the street and stood for a few minutes where she wasn’t supposed to stand. Then she crossed back to where it was OK to stand. Now she’s going to jail for a year.
(For background on the case, see yesterday’s story, “Criminal or martyr? Inside the political formation of Ithaca’s jailed grandmother.“)
There are plenty of reasons to deplore the excessive jail sentence that DeWitt Town Justice David S. Gideon handed down last week to Mary Anne Grady Flores, a 58-year-old grandmother of three.
Here are seven of them: 
Editorial: Sentence against Ithaca drones protester is a farce and an outrageBy:  |
A 400-pound asthmatic Staten Island dad died Thursday after a cop put him in a chokehold and other officers appeared to slam his head against the sidewalk, video of the incident shows.“I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” Eric Garner, 43, repeatedly screamed after at least five NYPD officers took him down in front of a Tompkinsville beauty supply store when he balked at being handcuffed.Within moments Garner, a married father of six children with two grandchildren, stopped struggling and appeared to be unconscious as police called paramedics to the scene. An angry crowd gathered, some recording with smartphones.

Read more: 
The Palestinian death toll in Gaza during the war rose to 336, with more than 2,400 wounded, the Palestinian health ministry said. About 75 percent of the casualties have been civilians, according to the United Nations. 
The Israeli military dropped leaflets urging residents of additional areas, including two crowded refugee camps, Al-Bureij and Al-Maghazi, to evacuate, raising alarms from the United Nations, which said that shelters were already overwhelmed and in danger of running out of supplies. More than 63,000 people have flocked to official shelters, a number that has tripled in two days, and many more have taken refuge with friends and family. 
Someone sitting in the glow of Saturday night bonfire said life is not difficult once you learn how to live it in peace.

Then, through seamless black hole, the poison enters and I am stricken with unlearning nausea.

Friday, July 18, 2014

how would you describe us?

Israel pummels Palestinian Gaza with shelling and ground invasion. Gaza goes dark. Israel dwells darker still.

Russia looks at the civilian plane shot down and looks at the missile launcher that downed it.

I think about the man executed in Missouri whose last words were: “You’re killing an innocent man.”

We are so primitive. So hapless. So dull. 

So unattuned. 

Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it.
My coming, my going
Two simple happenings
That got entangled. 

(--Kozan Ichikyo, “Coming, Going”)

Thursday, July 17, 2014


Woman we know currently in Maryland for another surgical procedure re-fusing sections of her spine.

She says she’s asked her doctor if things do not go well to put her in a coma until some corrective action could be taken.

We are driving back from Auburn. Route 17 opens to Appleton Ridge and farmland before Union under blue sky and billowing white clouds. We tell her on the call that Maine awaits her return. She is cheered.

I tell her I hope her doctor knows how to spell.

“Spell? she asks.

“Yes,” I say. "What if he puts you in a ‘comma’ in the middle of a sentence?”

Her surgery is Friday afternoon.

She is laughing.

father, sons

Four children are blown up in Gaza.

Shame on those that hide behind military jargon and strategy rationalization.
As they played on and around a jetty in the late-afternoon sun, a blast hit a nearby shack. One boy was killed instantly. The others ran. There was a second blast, and three more bodies littered the sand. One was charred, missing a leg, and another lay motionless, his curly head intact, his legs splayed at unnatural angles. 
The Israeli military acknowledged later that it had launched the strike, which it said was aimed at Hamas militants, and called the civilian deaths “a tragic outcome.” 
The four dead boys came quickly to symbolize how the Israeli aerial assaults in Gaza are inevitably killing innocents in this crowded, impoverished sliver of land along the Mediterranean Sea. They stood out because they were inarguably blameless, children who simply wanted to play on their favorite beach, near the fishing port where their large extended family keeps its boats.  
 The ugly enemy of life wanders through the eyes of those targeting the living with death.

There is no hope in the face of force, weaponry, and psychopathology.

In prison, CJ could be right: the God so many worship is quite possibly a psychopath.

These talmudic students continue their studies.


As I do.


Wednesday, July 16, 2014

allure of non-news social sites

Like dogs to source of a good smell, there's a gathering to something ripe, rotting, or faintly dangerous. Each visitor leaves their mark.
"So, the highest form of love or devotion is simply to abide as awarenes, knowingly. Any other sort of devotion would be the devotion af an imagined entity towards an imagined object." 
(--Rupert Spira, p.127, Presence, The Intimacy of All Experience vol ll)

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Goodbye momma, goodbye to you too pop

(A haiku)

Zen without Buddhism

Contemplation without Christianity

Poetry without words

Nothing but Tuesday

Birds fly through rain.
No umbrella, no yellow slicker --
Cooing dove -- dawn

Monday, July 14, 2014

What question do you hear?

The Results of Practice | July 14, 2014

One becomes an ordinary person, but in an extraordinary way. Your words are still there, your hang-ups may still be there, you still have to deal with all your karmic baggage and so on, but you see it in a totally different light. You're at peace with yourself, at peace with the world. Not in a complacent sense, but in the sense that you can simply devote yourself to a life of compassion. 
(--L.F. Habito, Other Fingers Pointing to the Moon, Tricycle Daily Dharma)
A life.

Of compassion.

Simply devoted.

Sunday, July 13, 2014

spirituality and hospice

Honor the journey.

Think of your religious tradition. Everyone has one. Ask yourself this question: If I had nothing to believe in, how would I live my life? Would “life” be enough? Or do we need something more, something else, something other, some place away, some other time -- in order to give our lives meaning?

Someone is dying. It’s all going away. Something is coming to its end.

What might be coming to an end is the religious traditions we all have in our histories.

Without them we are left with life that leads to (and through?) death.

Life, life itself, just might be the most significant spiritual journey, absent hope for something that might be after death. (Perhaps what is after death is life -- same as ever -- only seen clearly for the first time as what it really is.)

Make peace with life.

Live life with peace.

Honor the journey.

Saturday, July 12, 2014

s t o p -- (a way to go)





appreciatory, a heart condition

It is the orientation of heart that entices the mechanism of mind to rationalize justification for action. It is not conditioning of mind that influences heart.

We often see this wrong. We want to train the mind, thinking heart will follow.

Perhaps "right heart" will become the 9th addition to the eightfold path.

Stoney heart creates hard thinking action. Open hear creates complementary thoughtful action.

Have a heart -- let it be clear and flowing with appreciatory love!

Friday, July 11, 2014

Ora et labora

Loon cry across silence where dawn opens eye and birds shower song into stillness.

Wu Wei -- effortless awakening.

Father Benedict, founder (they say) of monasticism, find here a suitable community of fellow creatures praying reality into god, god into reality, heart/mind into integrity of place!

Thursday, July 10, 2014

Pane, not pain

A saint, the book said, is someone who, like a window, let's light show through.

Holiness allows translucence. It need not be its cause. It allows.

Here's to windows, light, and effect.

Wednesday, July 09, 2014

Madre Mia

Night grows quiet.
Only one thing 
made him happy 
and now that 
it was gone 
made him happy. 
(--Leonard Cohen, "Leonard Koan")
Room is quiet.

A yawn.

Blessings of birth anniversary to you!

Tuesday, July 08, 2014


Walking meditation at corner of Tire Warehouse parking lot right angle of shade from two trees in Bangor for thirty minutes.

No waiting. Rather, walking.

Nothing to wait for. Only, this step, this step, pivot, turn, this step, this step.