When in prison we dance with stillness.

Conversation encircles the willingness of each to speak from one's true self.

Today Hawkin's on Power vs. Force, Hillman on Yoga, Wilson on The Occult, as Yancey's What's So Amazing About Grace rested at middle of table.

Four of us gave space and freedom to each other.

From the banal to the noble, the silence and words from paper and mouths invite us to consider what is illuminating the very presence drawing us together.

We tap dance the power of presence down hallways of individual perception.

When we encounter hypothetical aggression or hostility, we practice stillness.

And allow God to find God's way into the world.

With gratitude each to each.

Truth is God.

That's what Mahatma Gandhi held.

Ahimsa, or non-violence, is truth in action.

For him, and for our consideration, truth and ahimsa are inseparable.

After Missing the Recluse on the Western Mountain

To your hermitage here on the top of the mountain
I have climbed, without stopping, these ten miles.
I have knocked at your door, and no one answered;
I have peeped into your room,
At your seat beside the table.
Perhaps you are out riding,
Or fishing, more likely, in some autumn pool.
Sorry though I am to be missing you,
You have become my meditation.
The beauty of the grasses, fresh with rain,
And close beside the window the music of pines,
I take into my being all that I see and hear,
Soothing my senses, quieting my heart;
And though there be neither host nor guest,
Have I not had a visit complete?
The afternoon fades, I make my way
Back down the mountain.
Why should I wait for you any longer?
- Ch-iu Wei

We disappear from each other. Presence, full and unhidden appearance, is where truth resides. Yet, disappearance feels more common than appearance. Just as lies feel more pervasive than truth.

If truth is God -- then we begin the path to seeing why lies endanger us as individuals and as nation. We are in danger of hiding from one another, and from God.

How do we pray, how do we tell ourselves, if we hide away from truth, hide away from God?

Why should I wait for you any longer, Lord God of All? I am surrounded by death, and those who would divide us from you. Lies are our constant companions.

Are we to be left desolate and separated by lies? Or will we find our true place in each others' lives? Are war, killing, and deception our only salvation? Or is there a greater truth that longs to emerge into appearance?

Bede Griffiths and Pierre Teilhard de Chardin spoke about a new vision:
Both felt that the articulating of a modern mystic vision was the primary need and objective of our time, and the central purpose of their own lives. Both felt that this needed to be paradoxically a unitive vision, in which "union differentiates." Thus Bede writes:

"Teilhard de Chardin always emphasized the principle that union differentiates. We become more ourselves as we enter more deeply into relationship with others...We do not lose ourselves, but we lose our sense of separation and division and discover our integral oneness in the One Reality. This is essentially a mystery of love...The whole process of evolution, as Teilhard Chardin saw it, is a process of personalization. The ultimate goal of humanity is a communion of persons in love...This is the meaning of Christian doctrine of the Trinity, that the ultimate Reality...is a communion of love (5)."

Bede in his later years, also through the influence of Teilhard, became committed to the integration of science (especially the "new physics" and Jungian psychology) into a dynamic unitive vision, "in a new evolutionary perspective" (6). Kathryn Spink rightly notes that "the principle of transformation was one which under the influence of Sri Aurobindo and Teilhard de Chardin [Fr. Bede] would eventually apply to life in general " [thus Fr. Bede wrote]: 'I see life in terms of transformation, matter being transformed into life, life into consciousness, and consciousness into divine experience'." (7). This line from Fr. Bede directly reflects the vision of Teilhard, though it expresses in more accessible terms Teilhard's noologistic language about cosmogenesis evolving into biogenesis into noogenesis. (Teilhard de Chardin and Bede Griffiths, By Robert Hale, OSB Cam, in THE GOLDEN STRING Newsletter, Vol. 7 No. 2 Spring 2001)

This process of transformation awaits awareness and opening of consciousness -- ours, and that of all creation.

Gandhi felt that truth alone exists.
The doctrine of Ahimsa, non-violence, was always at the very center of Gandhi's thought and work. He always believed in non-violence and lived by it. There was an obvious relationship between the doctrine of truth and non-violence: Satya and Ahimsa. As Gandhi says, I made the early discovery that if I was to reach God as truth and truth alone I could not do so except through a perfect vision of truth can only follow a complete realization of Ahimsa. To see the universal and all- pervading spirit of truth face to face one must be able to love the meanest of creation as oneself. Ahimsa is the farthest limit of humility. (My experiment with truth, p.401-2).

For Gandhi, Truth and Ahimsa are so intertwined that it is practically impossible to disentangle and separate them. As he puts it, Ahimsa is the means and Truth is the end. Thus, Ahimsa becomes our supreme duty and Truth becomes God. “Truth exists, it alone exists. It is the only God and there is but one way of realizing ".
(Collected works. vol 44, p. 59).

Thus, Ahimsa is the fundamental means by which Truth can be realized, that is, Moksha can be achieved. Ahimsa includes non-violence in thought, feeling and action and also means total humility, love, compassion and service. (from Gandhian Thoughts , http://channels.vandemataram.com/vindex.jsp?sno=12)

Moksha is final freedom -- salvation and liberation -- from our unawareness and hiddenness. This liberation is the freedom longed for in the deep center of all being and each being. We long to realize who we really are.

Have mercy on me, God, have mercy. My soul flies to you for refuge.
I will hide in the shelter of your wings until the time of ambush is past.
I will cry to God the Most High, to the God who cares for me.
(Psalm 56 (57) Morning prayer in time of affliction)

The ambush is upon us. The attack of opinion and noise, ideology and ice cold conviction, is all over us from airwaves and newsprint. God is redefined into war and power, falsity and lie. The souls of those seeking the true God are frightened by the deception and patronizing puppeteering that masquerades as privatized faith and divinity these days in our country and the larger world.

Is our visit to the recluse complete? Have we learned something on the mountain that answers the question, "Why should I wait for you any longer?"

Is God hiding within each and every one of us, each and every being, until our consciousness is transformed and we see, finally, who we really are in each other's lives?

If truth is God, then all truth is relational.

Alone with others. Union differentiates.

Nuptiality.

No retribution.

The Psalmist will state the sinner thinks, “there is no God, no retribution”.

Ahead the green creek sparkles
As it flows toward the cliff
A huge rock with a good edge for sitting
My heart is like a lone cloud
With nothing to depend on
So far away from the world’s affairs
What need is there
To search for anything
- Han-shan

I’ve been concerned about lies. My lies. The lies of the Bush administration. And, the great lie.

Like mountain ground in late October we are asked to live with lies as paths live with coverings of leaves.

Gathering Leaves

Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.

I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.

But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.

I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?

Next to nothing for weight;
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use.
But a crop is a crop,
And who's to say where
The harvest shall stop?
(Poem: "Gathering Leaves," by Robert Frost, from The Poetry of Robert Frost (Holt, Rinehart and Winston).)

Sickness of heart at the distortions, selective emphases, and downright lies that fall from Bush and his handlers. Not just about Iraq. But also environment, economy, oil, corporate war profiteering, this administration’s dismantling of rights, fairness of representation, and disproportionate psychological disparagement of any opposing opinion.

Once we thought truth was God, and lies the opposite of God.

With what purpose, Lord, do you stay away, hide yourself in time of need and trouble?
The wicked in their pride persecute the weak, trap them in the plots they have devised.
The sinner glories in his desires, the miser congratulates himself.
The sinner in his arrogance rejects the Lord: “there is no God, no retribution”.
This is what he thinks – and all goes well for him.
Your judgements are far beyond his comprehension: he despises all who stand against him.
( Psalm 9B (10) Thanksgiving )

Still, I give thanks that even in God’s absence, we long for God.

We want those who try to hide God to go away. They will take money with them, but we want them to go away.

That’s all. God is love. And God is truth.

We must be with God. And with God is no retribution.

The sinner is right about no retribution.

As a fool I have to accept both Bush and God.

If one must go away, may the true one stay.

Next to nothing for color.

Next to nothing for use.

Why do fools love?

October koan.

Time is odd.

Who knows what time it is?

Time is not God.

"Sabbath is setting aside time for God." (Donna Schaper, in Sabbath Keeping).

Setting aside time, we surrender to what we do not know.

Despite the obstacles
I pursued the great monk
The misty mountains a million layers high
He pointed to the road back home
One round moon
Lantern of the sky
- Han-shan

The great monk is the height and depth of one's being. In pursuing the great monk we must first relinquish surface ephemera holding us to flat plane.

Prayer lifts and falls from the surface of things.

Prayer is attention. It is time gone and place abandoned.

Gone where? Abandoned to what?

To pray for a longer time is not the same as to pray by multiplying words, as some people suppose. Lengthy talk is one thing, a prayerful disposition which lasts a long time is another. For it is even written in reference to the Lord himself that he spent the night in prayer and that he prayed at great length. Was he not giving us an example by this? In time, he prays when it is appropriate, and in eternity, he hears our prayers with the Father.

The monks in Egypt are said to offer frequent prayers, but these are very short and hurled like swift javelins. Otherwise their watchful attention, a very necessary quality for anyone at prayer, could be dulled and could disappear through protracted delays. They also clearly demonstrate through this practice that a person must not quickly divert such attention if it lasts, just as one must not allow it to be blunted if it cannot last.
(from A letter to Proba by St Augustine)

We pray when attention lingers on true longing. Not desires, nor wishes; not hopes, nor beliefs.
There is a longing that is true and more than true. It abides with us. It dwells as the essence of our existence.
Prayer is engagement with what is -- right there, before and behind, above and below -- ordinary sacred.

This longing is for that which is -- for what and who we are.
We ask and ask again: Who am I? Who are we?

This is where poem arises.

A poem should be motionless in time
As the moon climbs

A poem should be equal to:
Not true--
(Archibald MacLeish, in Ars Poetica )

I remember today my sister. It is the fourth anniversary. Her son, Mark, writes: ‘Today should not be a day of sadness for us, but one of celebration -- Mom turns 4 today!’ Her daughter, Lori Ann, writes: 'I was awake this morning at 1:02am and sat in silent prayer.'

Birth and death -- these two expressions of life -- visit one another.

Finding life -- is equal to -- itself.

Where time is set aside.

And God is still.

The road back home.

Here and now.

Submission.

She is reading the Koran. She reminds me that submission is the heart of prayer.

Why in our fear of not praying as we should, do we turn to so many things, to find what we should pray for? Why do we not say instead, in the words of the psalm: I have asked one thing from the Lord, this is what I will seek: to dwell in the Lord’s house all the days of my life, to see the graciousness of the Lord, and to visit his temple? There, the days do not come and go in succession, and the beginning of one day does not mean the end of another; all days are one, simultaneously and without end, and the life lived out in these days has itself no end.
So that we might obtain this life of happiness, he who is true life itself taught us to pray, not in many words as though speaking longer could gain us a hearing. After all, we pray to one who, as the Lord himself tells us, knows what we need before we ask for it. (from A letter to Proba by St Augustine)

I have asked only one thing from the Lord.

This...do I seek.

To dwell as and where I am. In the very house of God.

Day by day we bless you, Lord: we praise you for ever and for ever. (from the Te Deum)

And although I have not yet surrendered, I can still pray.

I submit. Underwith. Undergone.

Underway.

At hand.

That's what Luke the Evangelist wrote. "Say to them, 'The reign of God is at hand.'"

In my house there is a cave
In the cave there’s nothing at all
Pure emptiness
Really wonderful
Glorious and splendid
Bright as the sun
Vegetarian fare nourishes this old body
Cotton and hides cover this illusory form
Let a thousand saints appear before me
I have the Dharmakaya for my very own
- Han-shan

Dharmakaya, for Buddhists, is full. Dharmakaya is home.

Dharmakaya (Dhar?ma?ka?ya) (?), n. [Sanskrit, dharma Law + -kaaya body. [w] san-lun, [p] san1lun4, [k] samnon, [j] sanron.]
1. The dharmakaya (fa-shen ) is the experience of the transcendence of form of the five senses - and realization of true thusness.
2. the Buddha body in its self-nature, which is the same as the dharma body;
3. The Dharma body (fa-shen) is considered to be the eternal indestructible true principle, the Buddha's original body.
4. 1. Dharmakaya (body of the great order); the true nature of the Buddha, which is identical with reality, the essential laws of the universe. Equal to the laws of physics. The Dharmakaya is the experience of the unity of the laws of physics. It represents the "law" (dharma), the teaching expounded by the Buddha.
5. The Experience is timeless, permanent, devoid of characteristics and free from duality. It is the spiritual body of the buddhas, their true nature, which all buddhas have in common. (http://www.selfknowledge.com/109716.htm)

We celebrate St. Luke today. He was a convert to Christ.
And remain in the same house, eating and drinking what they provide, for the labourer deserves his wages; do not go from house to house. (Luke 10)

When at home there is no need to go from house to house. To be at home is wherever one is. Whenever completely "with" or "as," we are home. Whether with another, or, as oneself -- home is where we dwell not as two, nor with one. Home is nuptial. Not two. Not one. Rather, each as each, each with each.

Beloved brothers, our Lord and Saviour sometimes gives us instruction by words and sometimes by actions. His very deeds are our commands; and whenever he acts silently he is teaching us what we should do. For example, he sends his disciples out to preach two by two, because the precept of charity is twofold-love of God and of one’s neighbour.
The Lord sends his disciples out to preach in two’s in order to teach us silently that whoever fails in charity toward his neighbour should by no means take upon himself the office of preaching. (from A homily by Pope St Gregory the Great)

To preach is to be what we are saying.

We wonder what our global village would be like if we took time to listen to what everyone was saying – no matter what the language. In every conversation, the silences speak more truthfully than the words. Do we know how to listen for the Silence which allows the Word to be heard?

As hermits and solitaries we may wonder what we should do when senseless wars, boundless greed, overweening arrogance determines the future of our beloved earth. Perhaps it is our job to insure that there IS enough silence for the Word to be heard? Can we cultivate quiet so the Voice of Love can silently seep into our anguished, anxious hearts and teach us ways of compassion, forgiveness and mercy?

What can we do? “(We) have been told what is good, and what the Lord requires of (us):… only to act justly, love tenderly and walk humbly with our God.” (Micah 6:8) (from "A Word from Still Wood" in Raven's Bread, Food for Those in Solitude, Vol: 7 No: 2 May 2003)

This is what we are.

We are to act justly. We are to love tenderly. We are to walk humbly.

With God.

When are two not two? When is one not one? We ask ourselves.

Rain falls on everything this Saturday morning.

The response is at hand.

Promise and hope dissolve into fact.

Generally speaking, practical application of Zen requires detachment from thoughts. This method of Zen saves the most energy. It just requires you to detach form emotional thoughts, and understand that there is nothing concrete in the realms of desire, form, and formlessness; only then can you apply Zen practically. If you try to practice it otherwise, it will seem bitterly painful by comparison.
- Foyan (1067–1120)

Fact finalizes fanciful thought of Red Sox and Cubs.

This form filled with temporary sadness.

We are left with Friday morning.

Brook rushes past hermitage.

Dazed yellow leaves rest on ground after strong gale yesterday.

Cubs lose. Sox extend.

There’s a master who feeds on rosy clouds
He lives concealed from common wanderers
No matter what the season, it’s really restful
The summer is very much like the fall
Hidden streams are always gurgling
The wind murmurs in tall pines
Sit here for half a day
And you’ll completely
Forget a hundred year’s woes.
- Han-shan

The original face we show, the one before mother and father were born, is the face in our mirror.
Seeing this face, we are prepared to hear Jesus' words, "Before Abraham was, I am."
He saw through the koan.

Seeing through our own face, we see.

What?

Entering the inquiry, we are what is seen.

From every side, in and out, above and below, seeing and seen.

Holograph -- entirely handwritten by author.

Holy words.

One's own.

Sign on door today:

Closed Today
(Gott sei dank)

Open at 5:00pm
for Evening Conversation

..............

There's a stillness in October's quiet light today.

Walking meditation.

Canoe.

And gratitude.

Red Sox and Yankees even up at 2 each.

In baseball there is no attaining mastery. There is only one play at a time. One pitch, one swing, one set of movements at a time.

Do not say, “I understand! I have attained mastery!” If you have attained mastery, then why are you going around asking other people questions? As soon as you say you understand Zen, people watch whatever you do and whatever you say, wondering why you said this or that. If you claim to understand Zen, moreover, this is actually a contention of ignorance. What about the saying that one should “silently shine, hiding one’s enlightenment?” What about “the path is not different from the human mind?” - Foyan (1067–1120)

Walking Whitney Road loop through Lincolnville in sweet colorful sunlight this afternoon.

There's no knowing any outcome.

Go out. Come back. See. Then say what is seen.

Or keep silent.

As Sherman did at table in wheelchair as we greeted him in white house on Eaton Ave prior to walk.

Eyes alone in response.

Buddhists use hermitage for retreat this weekend. Nice they're here.

Sitting alone in peace
Before these cliffs
The full moon is
Heaven’s beacon
The ten thousand things
Are all reflections
The moon originally
Has no light
Wide open
The spirit of itself is pure
Hold fast to the void
Realize its subtle mystery
Look at the moon like this
This moon that is the heart’s pivot
- Han-shan

Maybe the world is a hologram. Brain too. Used The Holographic Universe by Michael Talbot at prison conversation Friday.

Who or what is the seeing?

'Beloved, the illumined soul sees clearly that from the One Life comes forth all living things, and that there is no separation possible when man lives and moves and has his being in his Divine Source. Therefore, the words "I and the Father are One", are fully realized to be Truth.' (p.116, in Your God is My God by Gladys De Meuter, c.1965)

The Source is with us.

October joyful sunlight!

Reality is not what we think it is.

Wanting to go to the eastern cliff
Setting out now after
How many years
Yesterday I used the vines
To pull myself up
But halfway there
Wind and mist made
The going tough
The narrow path grabbed
At my clothes
The moss so slippery
I couldn’t proceed
So I stopped right here
Beneath this cinnamon tree
Used a cloud as a pillow
And went to sleep
- Han-shan

Reality is how we see it as.

Visiting hermit in Stockton Springs.

I think of the other Sister who said of a group in Nova Scotia, "They lost their blessing."

The moon illuminates a thousand peaks
with the brilliance of daylight,
The sound of the bell falls
on my pillow of old friend’s poems;
In my thin monk’s robes,
unafraid of the frost’s harshness,
I rise, roll up the thin blinds,
sit in the depths of the night.
- Tesshu Tokusai (? – 1366)

In the depths of this current night -- I wonder if we have lost our blessing.

Moon full of itself over water from lighthouse across to Castine.

Neither here nor there.

Lost between.

Cold sky. Clear moon.

The white clouds
On the mountain tops
Poke halfway into this thatched hut
I had thought too cramped
Even for myself
- Koho Kennichi (1241–1316)

Solitude is the way moonlight lives in clouds.

Passing through.

Wind has gone by. Boats unjump. Lashings hold.

Francis of Assisi returns quietly to mountainside and sealight.

Yom Kippur comes with sundown.

If we see, we forgive.
If we abandon dark resentments, we let light within each other be seen.
If all is empty and open, what is seen is what is one alone, each in each and all.

Write this down, Brother Leo.

Hear O Israel!

If you are spiritually sharp,
you can open your eyes and
see as soon as you hear me
tell you about this.
Have not people of immeasurable
greatness said this truth
is not comprehensible by thought,
and that it is where
knowledge does not reach?
Were it not like this,
how could it be called
enlightened truth?
Nowadays, however, people
just present interpretations and views,
making up rationalizations;
they have never learned to be thus,
and have never reached this state.
- Foyan (1067–1120)

October!

Light.

Joy.

Francis of Assisi joins us.

Morning sunshine. Cesco and Sando in cabin with three of us. Walking meditation in dew bright green underfoot.
Chanting psalms celebrating nature and source.

Body impermanent like spring mist;
Mind insubstantial like empty sky;
Thoughts unestablished like breezes in space.
Think about these three points over and over.
- Godrakpa (1170-1249)

We are grateful for Francis' life then and now.

Simplicity. Acceptance of all beings. Dedication to Christ-mind and Christ-body.

Creation itself fills with quiet joy.

Francis, its offspring, wanders soundless at center.

Emptying Christ mirror!

Transitus of Francis.

Leaving time and body. Entering eternity and spirit.

Who enters this door, who studies this teaching
Has to be thorough and push to the end.
Empty your body, and reason remains;
Blank your mind, and the world is void.
Cloud-draped trees form a sheet of white;
In a mountain’s mouth the sun’s a red slice.
The flag moves or is it the wind?
It isn’t the wind or the flag.
- Stonehouse

Forgiveness returns us to original reality. To the unborn. Where what is is itself.

The pain of dwelling in original reality while yet in time and body was for Francis perfect joy.

Tonight we celebrate his return.

Write it down, Brother Leo.

All life is original life.

Greet God!

In this time. In this body.

Peace.

And all.

Good.

We remember angels. Silent presences. Unseen.

What communication with God? Just that. Entering God.

Whatever you are doing, twenty-four hours a day, in all your various activities, there is something that transcends the Buddhas and Zen Masters; but as soon as you want to understand it, it’s not there. As soon as you try to gather your attention on it, you have already turned away from it. That is why I say you see but cannot do anything about it.
- Foyan (1067–1120)

Angels are just that.

Our barn roof leaks.

Extension rains drenched coast of Maine yesterday through morning. Hurricane Juan washed ashore at Halifax Nova Scotia and passed through PEI.

In my house there is a cave
In the cave, there’s nothing at all
Pure emptiness, really wonderful
Glorious and splendid, bright as the sun
- Han Shan (c. 730)

Sitting in cabin last night with rain along roof, three times 20 minute bell struck. No movement save the moth immolating itself in candle sending waves of extinguished light to vacant and occupied cushions and mats.

Angels today -- Gabriel, Michael, Raphael -- a feasting.
Alone, we are never...alone.

Is that a message? That we are never alone when we are alone?
Is this what the hermit experiences? We are more alone when with others?

Paradox? If solitude is gift, no one can give it to you. It is something taken away.
Solitude is the realization we are alone with others when we are fully with them.

Fully with is beyond the need to make oneself understood.
It is silence that makes gift of solitude when alone with others.

Archangels with us. Emptying.
They say, "The Lord is with you."

Mary said, "Let it be so!"
We say, "Ah, yes, may it be, so."

A dissolving emptiness.
Then, solitude.

The beauty of your house, Lord, the place your glory dwells.
Home.

Bookshop/Bakery closed today.

In honor of Rosh Hashana, Sunday day of rest, Hurricane Juan bearing toward Nova Scotia, Saskia visiting family, and some silence, some solitude.

Cesco on rug, Mu-ge in basket on kitchen daybed. Rain light, then torrential, then pausing, and then again falling steady between mountains.

Living alone where none other dwells,
Shrine among the pines where mountain tints encroach,
Old man’s been ninety years a monk:
Heart beyond the clouds a lifetime long.
White hair hangs down, his head’s unshaven:
Clear black pupils smile deep mysteries.
He can still point to the orphan moon
For me alone, relaxes his discipline, this moment.
- Kuan Hsiu (832– 912)

There's joy, Emily D. says, in being nobody.

The same joy, one might say, in greeting everybody... as God... greeting.

This moment.

For giving.

A way.

Near.