Note: Meetingbrook will re-open Tuesday, Feb. 24th.
.....
It's nice to know there's nothing(ness) to worry about.
The news headline read -- "The universe has at least 30 billion years left."
It's also nice to know there's enough time to shingle the barn roof.
A detailed analysis of light from ancient exploding stars has yielded powerful support for the idea that recently discovered "dark energy" that pervades the universe might be what Einstein originally dubbed the "cosmological constant." If confirmed, the findings support theories that the cosmos will continue its slow expansion toward nothingness instead of violently ripping apart or collapsing, astronomers said.
The results were hailed as pivotal new data that will help answer the most pressing and profound questions about the universe, such as what makes up most of the void and what eventually will happen to it.
..."The simplest assumption is that the universe will become ever darker, and ever emptier, as the galaxies recede from us," Rees said. "And in the very far future, there will be nothing in evidence. Everything will have disappeared beyond the horizon."
(from "'Dark Energy' Backs Idea Einstein Junked," by Rob Stein, Washington Post Staff Writer, Saturday, February 21, 2004; Page A02)
In cabin this evening, glancing out over Sando's stretching body, through windows to old apple tree, Sally's land disappears into the horizon. Snow and sleet hit against north windows; an 'Open' banner creaks in wind at southwest corner of porch.
There are other things inviting our attention:
Proverbs 30
2 "I am the most ignorant of men;
I do not have a man's understanding.
3 I have not learned wisdom,
nor have I knowledge of the Holy One.
4 Who has gone up to heaven and come down?
Who has gathered up the wind in the hollow of his hands?
Who has wrapped up the waters in his cloak?
Who has established all the ends of the earth?
What is his name, and the name of his son?
Tell me if you know!
5 "Every word of God is flawless;
he is a shield to those who take refuge in him.
6 Do not add to his words,
or he will rebuke you and prove you a liar.
7 "Two things I ask of you, O LORD ;
do not refuse me before I die:
8 Keep falsehood and lies far from me;
give me neither poverty nor riches,
but give me only my daily bread.
9 Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you
and say, 'Who is the LORD ?'
Or I may become poor and steal,
and so dishonor the name of my God.
15 "The leech has two daughters.
'Give! Give!' they cry.
"There are three things that are never satisfied,
four that never say, 'Enough!':
16 the grave, the barren womb,
land, which is never satisfied with water,
and fire, which never says, 'Enough!'
18 "There are three things that are too amazing for me,
four that I do not understand:
19 the way of an eagle in the sky,
the way of a snake on a rock,
the way of a ship on the high seas,
and the way of a man with a maiden.
29 "There are three things that are stately in their stride,
four that move with stately bearing:
30 a lion, mighty among beasts,
who retreats before nothing;
31 a strutting rooster, a he-goat,
and a king with his army around him.
32 "If you have played the fool and exalted yourself,
or if you have planned evil,
clap your hand over your mouth!
33 For as churning the milk produces butter,
and as twisting the nose produces blood,
so stirring up anger produces strife.
(New International Version (NIV) © Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society)
So much of this part of the universe cries out 'Give me, give me,' and, 'It's mine, it's mine,' and, 'It's not enough, it's not enough.'
With 30 billion years left, perhaps we'll forget the impertinence of small mean men -- the individual...
who retreats before nothing;
a strutting rooster, a he-goat,
and a king with his army around him.
Let's not retreat before nothing, let's stop strutting, and let's graze the pastures of kingless, armyless wisdom.
Nothingness, like Godliness, is next. Cleansed minds and refreshed hearts have no need of worry.
Gratefulness and nothingness are friends.
All is as it is.
Friendly.
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Note: Meetingbrook will be closed for the remainder of the week. We will re-open Tuesday, Feb. 24th.
.............
The rolling hills and snowy roadside drifts are lovely.
We travel the length of Maine this week doing the part-time work that actually contributes to making payments for rent, oil for shop, propane gas for house, wood for stove, and those nice people who really hate the thought of charging late payment fee at credit card companies.
Sages since time immemorial have only explained the problems of pollution. If one does not have all that false consciousness, emotional and intellectual opinionatedness, and conceptual habituation, one is clear as autumn water, pure and uncontrived, placid and uninhibited. Such people are called Wayfarers, or free people.
- Kuei-Shan (771-854)
On the road 1000 miles so far this week: six bottles of water; three salami sandwiches; one pizza; some Chinese food; three coffees; five cadbury fruit and chocolate bars; trudges through snow; walks on rural roads and sidetrip stroll on Canadian beach.
The dogs think we've moved into the car. A little small, they think, but ok. Time for another walk? -- cool!
Nomadic conversations.
Where is home?
Vagrant. Vagabond. Wayfarer.
Take this turn.
.............
The rolling hills and snowy roadside drifts are lovely.
We travel the length of Maine this week doing the part-time work that actually contributes to making payments for rent, oil for shop, propane gas for house, wood for stove, and those nice people who really hate the thought of charging late payment fee at credit card companies.
Sages since time immemorial have only explained the problems of pollution. If one does not have all that false consciousness, emotional and intellectual opinionatedness, and conceptual habituation, one is clear as autumn water, pure and uncontrived, placid and uninhibited. Such people are called Wayfarers, or free people.
- Kuei-Shan (771-854)
On the road 1000 miles so far this week: six bottles of water; three salami sandwiches; one pizza; some Chinese food; three coffees; five cadbury fruit and chocolate bars; trudges through snow; walks on rural roads and sidetrip stroll on Canadian beach.
The dogs think we've moved into the car. A little small, they think, but ok. Time for another walk? -- cool!
Nomadic conversations.
Where is home?
Vagrant. Vagabond. Wayfarer.
Take this turn.
Monday, February 16, 2004
Note: Meetingbrook will be closed Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday this week. We're on the road doing other work.
....................
"Phenomenology is a means of being led by the phenomenon through a way of access genuinely belonging to it." (Richard Palmer, in Hermaneutics: Interpretation Theory in Schleiermacher, Dilthy, Heidegger, and Gadamer, p.128, c.1962)
Each thing, each person, belongs to itself. When we allow that understanding to become a way of being-in-the-world, we participate in the liberation of each to dwell in their true home.
Comprehending the fundamental,
Embracing the spirit,
Roam the root of heaven and earth,
Wander beyond the dust and dirt,
Travel to work with noninvolvement.
Take care not to let mechanical
Intelligence burden your mind;
Watch what is not temporal
And remain unmoved by things.
- Lao tzu
What does 'unmoved by things' here mean?
If each thing is what it is, and there is no gap between ourselves and each thing, therefore when each thing moves we move, being what we are.
Each thing, each person, is not an object for us to move, or to be moved by. If each-is-each, when one moves -- all moves. I am not separate. "That is what 'I' means. 'I' means everyone." (Maezumi Roshi)
So when you practice shikantaza, just sit. This is the condition of openness. Then being totally open, you are nothing other than all space and time. Dogen Zenji says, "On this body, put the Buddha seal." The Buddha seal is this openness, where there is no conditioning, no division between yourself and the object, no division between yourself and your life. (from article "Appreciate Your Life," by Maezumi Roshi, in Shambhala Sun Magazine, May 2001)
Just like that -- morning comes. And we drive to Fort Kent, Presque Isle, Lincoln, and Millinocket.
No gap. Just miles.
Embracing spirit!
....................
"Phenomenology is a means of being led by the phenomenon through a way of access genuinely belonging to it." (Richard Palmer, in Hermaneutics: Interpretation Theory in Schleiermacher, Dilthy, Heidegger, and Gadamer, p.128, c.1962)
Each thing, each person, belongs to itself. When we allow that understanding to become a way of being-in-the-world, we participate in the liberation of each to dwell in their true home.
Comprehending the fundamental,
Embracing the spirit,
Roam the root of heaven and earth,
Wander beyond the dust and dirt,
Travel to work with noninvolvement.
Take care not to let mechanical
Intelligence burden your mind;
Watch what is not temporal
And remain unmoved by things.
- Lao tzu
What does 'unmoved by things' here mean?
If each thing is what it is, and there is no gap between ourselves and each thing, therefore when each thing moves we move, being what we are.
Each thing, each person, is not an object for us to move, or to be moved by. If each-is-each, when one moves -- all moves. I am not separate. "That is what 'I' means. 'I' means everyone." (Maezumi Roshi)
So when you practice shikantaza, just sit. This is the condition of openness. Then being totally open, you are nothing other than all space and time. Dogen Zenji says, "On this body, put the Buddha seal." The Buddha seal is this openness, where there is no conditioning, no division between yourself and the object, no division between yourself and your life. (from article "Appreciate Your Life," by Maezumi Roshi, in Shambhala Sun Magazine, May 2001)
Just like that -- morning comes. And we drive to Fort Kent, Presque Isle, Lincoln, and Millinocket.
No gap. Just miles.
Embracing spirit!
Saturday, February 14, 2004
If we become what we love, and we see what we are, then, will we be able to say what we love?
This middle February seems laden with odd truths. And odder loves.
"It is true, that which I have revealed to you; there is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream -- a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought -- a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!"
He vanished, and left me appalled; for I knew, and realized, that all he had said was true.
(-- final lines, "The Mysterious Stranger," in Mark Twain's Best, Eight Short Stories by America's Master Humorist, c.1962)
Ask someone what they love -- if you dare. You are asking them to face a truth that is fraught with questions. And those questions, if also faced, are fraught with further questions. Further and deeper, deeper and further fraught-filled questions follow each enquiry.
Paco wondered yesterday in prison if the questions were worth asking. Ryan, Diane, Mike, Saskia, and I were also taken up into the question of grace at the Thin Place where one thing shines through another -- where revelation takes place in and through the most peculiar and often terrible metaphors found in prison.
How retain one's feeling humanity in the face of hateful, harmful experiences? How retrieve trust in an atmosphere of deceit? How believe in the integrity of the relationally-felt when so much fragmentation occurs in the numbing-distortions?
And there we sat.
With one another in the questions.
Don't be surprised,
Don't be startled;
All things will arrange
Themselves.
Don't cause a disturbance,
Don't exert pressure;
All things will clarify
Themselves.
- Huai-nan-tzu
If we become what we love, and we see what we are, then, will we be able to say what we love?
For a period of time -- in prison and in middle February oddities of love -- we sift through our dreams and questions.
Arrange.
Clarify.
See.
Say.
This middle February seems laden with odd truths. And odder loves.
"It is true, that which I have revealed to you; there is no God, no universe, no human race, no earthly life, no heaven, no hell. It is all a dream -- a grotesque and foolish dream. Nothing exists but you. And you are but a thought -- a vagrant thought, a useless thought, a homeless thought, wandering forlorn among the empty eternities!"
He vanished, and left me appalled; for I knew, and realized, that all he had said was true.
(-- final lines, "The Mysterious Stranger," in Mark Twain's Best, Eight Short Stories by America's Master Humorist, c.1962)
Ask someone what they love -- if you dare. You are asking them to face a truth that is fraught with questions. And those questions, if also faced, are fraught with further questions. Further and deeper, deeper and further fraught-filled questions follow each enquiry.
Paco wondered yesterday in prison if the questions were worth asking. Ryan, Diane, Mike, Saskia, and I were also taken up into the question of grace at the Thin Place where one thing shines through another -- where revelation takes place in and through the most peculiar and often terrible metaphors found in prison.
How retain one's feeling humanity in the face of hateful, harmful experiences? How retrieve trust in an atmosphere of deceit? How believe in the integrity of the relationally-felt when so much fragmentation occurs in the numbing-distortions?
And there we sat.
With one another in the questions.
Don't be surprised,
Don't be startled;
All things will arrange
Themselves.
Don't cause a disturbance,
Don't exert pressure;
All things will clarify
Themselves.
- Huai-nan-tzu
If we become what we love, and we see what we are, then, will we be able to say what we love?
For a period of time -- in prison and in middle February oddities of love -- we sift through our dreams and questions.
Arrange.
Clarify.
See.
Say.
Friday, February 13, 2004
Are we the story we tell about ourselves?
Vast and far-reaching
without boundary,
secluded and pure,
manifesting light,
this spirit is without
obstruction.
Its brightness does not
shine out but can be
called empty and
inherently radiant.
- Hongzhi Zhengjue (1091-1157)
The thought comes, following Thursday Evening Conversation, that everything really is relational -- felt relational -- or we are adrift in a numbing sea of abstract ideas and calculated complaints (consciously, or more likely, unconsciously formulated) that separate us from each other; a separation, only seemingly real, made rigid by unfeeling judgmental mind.
Depression is not about pain. Depression is about the absence of pain, the absence of feeling.
Depression covers anxiety and fear like a fog. Once depressed, I was no longer anxious about my children. If I drank a cup of coffee, my mood was not enhanced; if I went to a party, I didn't feel better.
If I read poetry, my soul no longer blossomed as it had in the past. No feeling is what depression is about, and the condition created a barrier between me and my children, my husband, my friends.
Depression is not about pain: it's about everything gone away. ...
Women in each generation of my family endured lives of poverty; they passively suffered the births of many children, yet they knew there were other lives they could have lived. They were afraid to look. ....
At an early age I learned that things stand for other things. ...
I have had to look at my life. And I have escaped from madness by understanding transformation, how each thing transcends its own reality. I either go mad or I learn about metaphor.
(from "Thorazine Shuffle" by filmmaker Allie Light, in the book Out of Her Mind: Women Writing on Madness, ed. by Rebecca Shannonhouse)
Light's final three sentences are the map to relational feeling; to what is relationally felt.
Is 'what is' relationally felt?
Is 'God' what is touching and holding us together, each to each?
What story are we telling today?
Vast and far-reaching
without boundary,
secluded and pure,
manifesting light,
this spirit is without
obstruction.
Its brightness does not
shine out but can be
called empty and
inherently radiant.
- Hongzhi Zhengjue (1091-1157)
The thought comes, following Thursday Evening Conversation, that everything really is relational -- felt relational -- or we are adrift in a numbing sea of abstract ideas and calculated complaints (consciously, or more likely, unconsciously formulated) that separate us from each other; a separation, only seemingly real, made rigid by unfeeling judgmental mind.
Depression is not about pain. Depression is about the absence of pain, the absence of feeling.
Depression covers anxiety and fear like a fog. Once depressed, I was no longer anxious about my children. If I drank a cup of coffee, my mood was not enhanced; if I went to a party, I didn't feel better.
If I read poetry, my soul no longer blossomed as it had in the past. No feeling is what depression is about, and the condition created a barrier between me and my children, my husband, my friends.
Depression is not about pain: it's about everything gone away. ...
Women in each generation of my family endured lives of poverty; they passively suffered the births of many children, yet they knew there were other lives they could have lived. They were afraid to look. ....
At an early age I learned that things stand for other things. ...
I have had to look at my life. And I have escaped from madness by understanding transformation, how each thing transcends its own reality. I either go mad or I learn about metaphor.
(from "Thorazine Shuffle" by filmmaker Allie Light, in the book Out of Her Mind: Women Writing on Madness, ed. by Rebecca Shannonhouse)
Light's final three sentences are the map to relational feeling; to what is relationally felt.
Is 'what is' relationally felt?
Is 'God' what is touching and holding us together, each to each?
What story are we telling today?
Wednesday, February 11, 2004
Are we listening?
Suicide bombing in Iraq; 20 Iraqis killed. Next day, another suicide bombing in Iraq; 50 Iraqis killed. Calculations take place. On one side: can we start a civil war? On other side: how do we get out of this country.
Evening meditation,
Enfolded in mountains,
All thoughts of the
World of men dissolve.
Quietly sitting on my cattail cushion
Alone, I face the empty window.
Incense burns away
As the dark night deepens,
And my robe is a single fold
As white dew thickens.
Rising from deep meditation,
I stroll in the garden,
And the moon is already above the highest peak.
( - Ryokan)
Zen poet monk Taigu Ryokan (1758-1831) (nicknamed Great Fool) wrote of his life simply, wisely, and directly. He was no politician. He didn't have to explain his whereabouts during an awful war. He didn't have to justify every word and act over the past 30 years. Nor did he have to accumulate a hundred million dollars in order to get the one job that could distribute hundreds of billions of dollars around the world and at home to loyal friends.
I've made my choice for the upcoming presidential election. I want to come out early, once, and finally and be done with it.
I support no one for president. I recommend a council of the wise -- elderly and young -- to take on the conversation daily about how to live in this world with others toward mutual support, respect, and well-being. This council of the wise will know what to do -- they're wise. Whether they model after Native American Circles, or Canadian/British Parliamentary representation, I'm confident they'll find a system that is fair, representative of all Americans, and responsive to the needs of the whole globe.
No more fund-raising. No more advertisements as though candidates were underwear being sold. No more buying and selling of votes and influence so as to benefit and profit a few at the expense of and exclusion of others.
I have fallen to less useful diffidence.
Too confused to ever earn a living
I've learned to let things have their way.
With only three handfuls of rice in my bag
and a few branches by my fireside
I pursue neither right or wrong
and forget worldly fortune and fame.
This damp night under a grassy roof
I stretch out my legs without regrets.
(- Ryokan)
Tuesday Evening Conversation followed reading on 'Changing Karma' by Shunryu Suzuki.
In conversing it seems it is not a matter of right or wrong -- as though dualistic list-making and side-taking could remedy complex human difficulties. It is more the willingness to look hard and long at the difficulties and let arise from the core of the difficulty itself information necessary to move to the next step in the right direction. "Enjoy your life," Suzuki said, "and do not be fooled by things."
All karma is present at each moment. We might not even know what good or bad effects of good or bad causes are there in the moment, in the very next action we are about to perform. It is not necessary to know, to be able to predict or analyze outcome or payoff. What is necessary is to engage what is there and next there with attention and clear mind -- to do what is requested by the situation to be done -- without concern for the fruits of the action, without calculation of benefit or deficit following. A clear and selfless act records no karma.
The flame of attention both lights up and dissolves karma. Loving attention needs nothing other than itself.
REPLY TO A FRIEND
In stubborn stupidity, I live on alone
befriended by trees and herbs.
Too lazy to learn right from wrong,
I laugh at myself, ignoring others.
Lifting my bony shanks, I cross the stream,
a sack in my hand, blessed by spring weather.
Living thus, I want for nothing,
at peace with all the world.
(- Ryokan)
There are many worlds, worlds beyond description. 'Universe' and even 'Multiverses' probably do not begin to reveal the worlds-within-worlds and the worlds-beyond-worlds gracing what we call existence or being. Each human being, each animal, each insect, each life-cell -- each a world unto itself that we find convenient to categorize into species and bio-animate clusters. Billions and trillions of worlds to the nth power reside side by side near and far. What would it mean for us to be "at peace with all the world"?
Your finger points to the moon,
but the finger is blind until the moon appears.
What connection has moon and finger?
Are they separate objects or bound?
This is a question for beginners
wrapped in seas of ignorance.
Yet one who looks beyond metaphor
knows there is no finger; there is no moon.
(- Ryokan)
Richard's contribution ended the final circle comments. In them, in that way he has, he called the other four of us 'novices' in our understanding. This I took as a great compliment. To be a beginner is just about where I suspect I am, we are, he she or it is -- if we are in the process of approaching and stepping into right understanding of life. Lloyd laughed. Saskia laughed. John laughed. I laughed. And Richard? -- he too laughed.
Winter dinghy, overturned with crusty snow atop blue covering tarp below birdfeeders and tucked underside Loon IV, bobs in sea of ignorance riding swelling stillness and solitude.
Ryokan has it: there is no ocean, there is no land.
There is just question -- and metaphor.
Ask, or don't ask -- still, one speaks through another.
Only listen.
Suicide bombing in Iraq; 20 Iraqis killed. Next day, another suicide bombing in Iraq; 50 Iraqis killed. Calculations take place. On one side: can we start a civil war? On other side: how do we get out of this country.
Evening meditation,
Enfolded in mountains,
All thoughts of the
World of men dissolve.
Quietly sitting on my cattail cushion
Alone, I face the empty window.
Incense burns away
As the dark night deepens,
And my robe is a single fold
As white dew thickens.
Rising from deep meditation,
I stroll in the garden,
And the moon is already above the highest peak.
( - Ryokan)
Zen poet monk Taigu Ryokan (1758-1831) (nicknamed Great Fool) wrote of his life simply, wisely, and directly. He was no politician. He didn't have to explain his whereabouts during an awful war. He didn't have to justify every word and act over the past 30 years. Nor did he have to accumulate a hundred million dollars in order to get the one job that could distribute hundreds of billions of dollars around the world and at home to loyal friends.
I've made my choice for the upcoming presidential election. I want to come out early, once, and finally and be done with it.
I support no one for president. I recommend a council of the wise -- elderly and young -- to take on the conversation daily about how to live in this world with others toward mutual support, respect, and well-being. This council of the wise will know what to do -- they're wise. Whether they model after Native American Circles, or Canadian/British Parliamentary representation, I'm confident they'll find a system that is fair, representative of all Americans, and responsive to the needs of the whole globe.
No more fund-raising. No more advertisements as though candidates were underwear being sold. No more buying and selling of votes and influence so as to benefit and profit a few at the expense of and exclusion of others.
I have fallen to less useful diffidence.
Too confused to ever earn a living
I've learned to let things have their way.
With only three handfuls of rice in my bag
and a few branches by my fireside
I pursue neither right or wrong
and forget worldly fortune and fame.
This damp night under a grassy roof
I stretch out my legs without regrets.
(- Ryokan)
Tuesday Evening Conversation followed reading on 'Changing Karma' by Shunryu Suzuki.
In conversing it seems it is not a matter of right or wrong -- as though dualistic list-making and side-taking could remedy complex human difficulties. It is more the willingness to look hard and long at the difficulties and let arise from the core of the difficulty itself information necessary to move to the next step in the right direction. "Enjoy your life," Suzuki said, "and do not be fooled by things."
All karma is present at each moment. We might not even know what good or bad effects of good or bad causes are there in the moment, in the very next action we are about to perform. It is not necessary to know, to be able to predict or analyze outcome or payoff. What is necessary is to engage what is there and next there with attention and clear mind -- to do what is requested by the situation to be done -- without concern for the fruits of the action, without calculation of benefit or deficit following. A clear and selfless act records no karma.
The flame of attention both lights up and dissolves karma. Loving attention needs nothing other than itself.
REPLY TO A FRIEND
In stubborn stupidity, I live on alone
befriended by trees and herbs.
Too lazy to learn right from wrong,
I laugh at myself, ignoring others.
Lifting my bony shanks, I cross the stream,
a sack in my hand, blessed by spring weather.
Living thus, I want for nothing,
at peace with all the world.
(- Ryokan)
There are many worlds, worlds beyond description. 'Universe' and even 'Multiverses' probably do not begin to reveal the worlds-within-worlds and the worlds-beyond-worlds gracing what we call existence or being. Each human being, each animal, each insect, each life-cell -- each a world unto itself that we find convenient to categorize into species and bio-animate clusters. Billions and trillions of worlds to the nth power reside side by side near and far. What would it mean for us to be "at peace with all the world"?
Your finger points to the moon,
but the finger is blind until the moon appears.
What connection has moon and finger?
Are they separate objects or bound?
This is a question for beginners
wrapped in seas of ignorance.
Yet one who looks beyond metaphor
knows there is no finger; there is no moon.
(- Ryokan)
Richard's contribution ended the final circle comments. In them, in that way he has, he called the other four of us 'novices' in our understanding. This I took as a great compliment. To be a beginner is just about where I suspect I am, we are, he she or it is -- if we are in the process of approaching and stepping into right understanding of life. Lloyd laughed. Saskia laughed. John laughed. I laughed. And Richard? -- he too laughed.
Winter dinghy, overturned with crusty snow atop blue covering tarp below birdfeeders and tucked underside Loon IV, bobs in sea of ignorance riding swelling stillness and solitude.
Ryokan has it: there is no ocean, there is no land.
There is just question -- and metaphor.
Ask, or don't ask -- still, one speaks through another.
Only listen.
Tuesday, February 10, 2004
Tommy sits by fire. He tells of Sunday caucus. Maine turned out.
Flat Lake cold penetrates
Water-lily clothes
The mountain by the lake
Is neither right nor wrong
Dusty tracks all end
The world is far away.
White clouds and gulls
Have no hidden plans.
- Han-shan Te-ch'ing (1546-1623)
Tommy tells me to go back into solitude when I say I'd begun to feel sorry for Bush Sunday morning as he tried to present himself as a war president with war before his eyes everyday. A conservative columnist for the New York Times suggests Bush is living each day as though it were September 12, 2001. The nation has gone forward 880 days.
Tommy's for Kucinich. He'll be a state delegate.
Joanie comes in. She and Tommy debate whether he really was able to tell she wasn't wearing her leg brace anymore. She claims he couldn't tell. He said he could. It's like listening to the argument before the invasion into Iraq whether it was possible to prove there weren't any WMD. It's always hard to prove a negative. Tommy and Joanie go to opposite corners of the shop for a spell, then reach a truce. She asks him for a ride home when he leaves. He wonders if the step on his pickup is too high for her. If only Saddam had asked the same of Bush -- just give me a ride out of Iraq when it's time for me to go.
Richard comes in and Joanie tells the story of her fall, hit head, and broken elbow to him. He and Tommy talk football. They're still rolling about the Patriots win in the Super Bowl.
It's a hard emergence from solitude. Were I more gracious I'd emerge more easily.
On way to cabin this morning, crunching frozen snow. Dogs arrive. Saskia arrives.
No hidden plans.
Flat Lake cold penetrates
Water-lily clothes
The mountain by the lake
Is neither right nor wrong
Dusty tracks all end
The world is far away.
White clouds and gulls
Have no hidden plans.
- Han-shan Te-ch'ing (1546-1623)
Tommy tells me to go back into solitude when I say I'd begun to feel sorry for Bush Sunday morning as he tried to present himself as a war president with war before his eyes everyday. A conservative columnist for the New York Times suggests Bush is living each day as though it were September 12, 2001. The nation has gone forward 880 days.
Tommy's for Kucinich. He'll be a state delegate.
Joanie comes in. She and Tommy debate whether he really was able to tell she wasn't wearing her leg brace anymore. She claims he couldn't tell. He said he could. It's like listening to the argument before the invasion into Iraq whether it was possible to prove there weren't any WMD. It's always hard to prove a negative. Tommy and Joanie go to opposite corners of the shop for a spell, then reach a truce. She asks him for a ride home when he leaves. He wonders if the step on his pickup is too high for her. If only Saddam had asked the same of Bush -- just give me a ride out of Iraq when it's time for me to go.
Richard comes in and Joanie tells the story of her fall, hit head, and broken elbow to him. He and Tommy talk football. They're still rolling about the Patriots win in the Super Bowl.
It's a hard emergence from solitude. Were I more gracious I'd emerge more easily.
On way to cabin this morning, crunching frozen snow. Dogs arrive. Saskia arrives.
No hidden plans.
Monday, February 09, 2004
Three days solitude.
Snow fell wet and slippery. Crusted with cold. Now softens with warmer light.
Cranes in the wilderness,
Lonely clouds,
Their destination is uncertain;
Where in this world
Am I to address my deepest thoughts?
Forest trees in serried ranks
Ascend the cliff walls.
Like a series of brush strokes,
Hills and peaks arrayed
Out to the horizon;
My mind brims with
Zen clear as water,
Old bones jut angularly
Thin as kindling;
Fame is nothing one can keep for long;
A hundred years of light and dark
Before we reach our end.
- Betsugen Enshi (1296 - 1364)
If I never again left this hermitage I'm not sure I'd miss anything beyond the gate.
"Since I have embarked on the wide ocean, and given full sails to the wind, I say there is nothing in the whole universe that persists. Everything flows, and is formed as a fleeting image. Time itself, also, glides, in its continual motion, no differently than a river. For neither the river, nor the swift hour can stop: but as wave impels wave, and as the prior wave is chased by the coming wave, and chases the one before, so time flees equally, and, equally, follows, and is always new. For what was before is left behind: and what was not comes to be: and each moment is renewed.
(--from Ovid, Bk XV:176-198 Pythagoras's Teachings: The Eternal Flux)
It is narrow corridor passing between simple accepting appreciation of everything, and indifferent allowing of everything to be what it is. While the former seems the more attractive attitude, given our penchant for positive engagement -- the latter seems to be a step back non-engaging mere viewing of what is there. They might not be any further apart than the middle lines running through their midst -- both horizontally and vertically.
"Son, thy sins are forgiven thee..." Jesus says to the paralytic lowered thru the roof in Mark 2:1-10. Some thought he blasphemed. Jesus told him to "...arise, take up thy pallet, and go to thy house." Jesus often was quoted using the words, "Go thy way."
What we call sin is personal. We feel its effects. We feel outside. We're unsure why. We don't know. We can't see clearly. Our movements are constrained. We feel there's no place to go. Life is suffering.
Sin, from another view, is the fact of existence not a thing in existence escapes. Whatever 'is' finds itself deeply rooted in the fact of existence -- suffering uncertainty.
If sin is taken away, do we then no longer suffer? Are we no longer uncertain? Is the central fact of existence dissolved? Are we indeed free? Are we no longer a felt fact suffering unknowing existence?
I don't know. I am a fact of unknowing existence. I am what some call sinner.
If Jesus takes away, or forgives, sin in individuals, or even the world -- what is taking place? Is there no longer sin? So far, even with the life of Jesus celebrated as the life of the Messiah, the one who takes away the sins of the world -- sin seems secure and well situated in the world. What, if anything, has changed?
Nothing.
Nothing has changed. But -- something has been added. That which has been added is awareness. Awareness has been introduced to complement ignorance. Unknowing existence is no longer simply blind, no longer simply paralyzed. It no longer simply follows the dictates of mind and emotions, rote and mechanical.
Awareness is the crossing line in existence.
Rather than increasing suffering, awareness sees suffering as it is. Rather than numbing us to the consequences of our actions and choices, awareness places us within the very fact of action and choice. Awareness takes away nothing -- awareness is not a thing. Rather, awareness shines light through nothingness, right through the center nothingness.
This is how awareness and sin coexist today -- one shines through the other -- and in that passage through, we are able to see, affirm, and release what light has illumined. Some might want more: the elimination of the experience of separation, or eradication of remorseful residue caused by hurtful acts or attitudes. It's something else I look to.
I want no amputation of human existence. I'd rather the light shining through human existence -- with its cruciform intersection illuminating and liberating -- pointing out from within the way before us.
Sins are for giving each one of us light to show us through this existence.
O happy fault! Light's Christing passage!
Light, like time, "... flees equally, and, equally, follows, and is always new. For what was before is left behind: and what was not comes to be: and each moment is renewed." (Ovid)
"Go thy way," Jesus tells them.
We assume they do.
Snow fell wet and slippery. Crusted with cold. Now softens with warmer light.
Cranes in the wilderness,
Lonely clouds,
Their destination is uncertain;
Where in this world
Am I to address my deepest thoughts?
Forest trees in serried ranks
Ascend the cliff walls.
Like a series of brush strokes,
Hills and peaks arrayed
Out to the horizon;
My mind brims with
Zen clear as water,
Old bones jut angularly
Thin as kindling;
Fame is nothing one can keep for long;
A hundred years of light and dark
Before we reach our end.
- Betsugen Enshi (1296 - 1364)
If I never again left this hermitage I'm not sure I'd miss anything beyond the gate.
"Since I have embarked on the wide ocean, and given full sails to the wind, I say there is nothing in the whole universe that persists. Everything flows, and is formed as a fleeting image. Time itself, also, glides, in its continual motion, no differently than a river. For neither the river, nor the swift hour can stop: but as wave impels wave, and as the prior wave is chased by the coming wave, and chases the one before, so time flees equally, and, equally, follows, and is always new. For what was before is left behind: and what was not comes to be: and each moment is renewed.
(--from Ovid, Bk XV:176-198 Pythagoras's Teachings: The Eternal Flux)
It is narrow corridor passing between simple accepting appreciation of everything, and indifferent allowing of everything to be what it is. While the former seems the more attractive attitude, given our penchant for positive engagement -- the latter seems to be a step back non-engaging mere viewing of what is there. They might not be any further apart than the middle lines running through their midst -- both horizontally and vertically.
"Son, thy sins are forgiven thee..." Jesus says to the paralytic lowered thru the roof in Mark 2:1-10. Some thought he blasphemed. Jesus told him to "...arise, take up thy pallet, and go to thy house." Jesus often was quoted using the words, "Go thy way."
What we call sin is personal. We feel its effects. We feel outside. We're unsure why. We don't know. We can't see clearly. Our movements are constrained. We feel there's no place to go. Life is suffering.
Sin, from another view, is the fact of existence not a thing in existence escapes. Whatever 'is' finds itself deeply rooted in the fact of existence -- suffering uncertainty.
If sin is taken away, do we then no longer suffer? Are we no longer uncertain? Is the central fact of existence dissolved? Are we indeed free? Are we no longer a felt fact suffering unknowing existence?
I don't know. I am a fact of unknowing existence. I am what some call sinner.
If Jesus takes away, or forgives, sin in individuals, or even the world -- what is taking place? Is there no longer sin? So far, even with the life of Jesus celebrated as the life of the Messiah, the one who takes away the sins of the world -- sin seems secure and well situated in the world. What, if anything, has changed?
Nothing.
Nothing has changed. But -- something has been added. That which has been added is awareness. Awareness has been introduced to complement ignorance. Unknowing existence is no longer simply blind, no longer simply paralyzed. It no longer simply follows the dictates of mind and emotions, rote and mechanical.
Awareness is the crossing line in existence.
Rather than increasing suffering, awareness sees suffering as it is. Rather than numbing us to the consequences of our actions and choices, awareness places us within the very fact of action and choice. Awareness takes away nothing -- awareness is not a thing. Rather, awareness shines light through nothingness, right through the center nothingness.
This is how awareness and sin coexist today -- one shines through the other -- and in that passage through, we are able to see, affirm, and release what light has illumined. Some might want more: the elimination of the experience of separation, or eradication of remorseful residue caused by hurtful acts or attitudes. It's something else I look to.
I want no amputation of human existence. I'd rather the light shining through human existence -- with its cruciform intersection illuminating and liberating -- pointing out from within the way before us.
Sins are for giving each one of us light to show us through this existence.
O happy fault! Light's Christing passage!
Light, like time, "... flees equally, and, equally, follows, and is always new. For what was before is left behind: and what was not comes to be: and each moment is renewed." (Ovid)
"Go thy way," Jesus tells them.
We assume they do.
Sunday, February 08, 2004
Saturday, February 07, 2004
Solitude with cat.
Mu-ge stretches on black daybed cover in kitchen. There's no more cut wood. There is Irish music on "Thistle and Shamrock."
I cannot get used to war.
THE MIRROR
Seeing is believing.
Whatever was thought or said,
these persistent, inexorable deaths
make faith as such absent,
our humanness a question,
a disgust for what we are.
Whatever the hope,
here it is lost.
Because we coveted our difference,
here is the cost.
(Poem by Robert Creeley, in Life and Death, c.1998)
Same and different, the Zen Master said, exist only in the mind. The mind with fondness for war is not easy to understand. The mind making excuses for war is hard to listen to. Those who say, "We're all the same!" are as difficult to listen to as those saying, "We're all different."
DIVINE CONTEMPLATION
Who in this mortal life would see
The Light that is beyond all light,
Beholds it best by faring forth
Into the darkness of the Night.
(from "The Cherubinic Wanderer," by Angelus Silesius, 1624-1677)
It is quite a dance twirling between birth and death, light and dark, something and nothing. I cannot help wondering what it is I do not yet comprehend about myself and fellow humankind that we so easily put to death and cause to be annihilated those animals and humans getting in the way of our craving minds.
God made everything out of nothing, but the nothingness shows through. (- Paul Valery)
Mu-ge is on watch. The sounds in the walls will soon begin.
Solitude is like that.
Mu-ge stretches on black daybed cover in kitchen. There's no more cut wood. There is Irish music on "Thistle and Shamrock."
I cannot get used to war.
THE MIRROR
Seeing is believing.
Whatever was thought or said,
these persistent, inexorable deaths
make faith as such absent,
our humanness a question,
a disgust for what we are.
Whatever the hope,
here it is lost.
Because we coveted our difference,
here is the cost.
(Poem by Robert Creeley, in Life and Death, c.1998)
Same and different, the Zen Master said, exist only in the mind. The mind with fondness for war is not easy to understand. The mind making excuses for war is hard to listen to. Those who say, "We're all the same!" are as difficult to listen to as those saying, "We're all different."
DIVINE CONTEMPLATION
Who in this mortal life would see
The Light that is beyond all light,
Beholds it best by faring forth
Into the darkness of the Night.
(from "The Cherubinic Wanderer," by Angelus Silesius, 1624-1677)
It is quite a dance twirling between birth and death, light and dark, something and nothing. I cannot help wondering what it is I do not yet comprehend about myself and fellow humankind that we so easily put to death and cause to be annihilated those animals and humans getting in the way of our craving minds.
God made everything out of nothing, but the nothingness shows through. (- Paul Valery)
Mu-ge is on watch. The sounds in the walls will soon begin.
Solitude is like that.
Friday, February 06, 2004
Charlotte and John play guitar earlier and sing. One goes; one stays sitting in silence.
Looking out at harbor, a glaze of white falling snow. In right hand pane of lower window, reflection of fire back across the room.
This message is not just
For the rich and noble
The thousand flowers
And the hundred grasses
All have spring within them
Profound people in later days
Who read the sutras
Do not ask the way to the
Great road of enlightenment.
Stop! Stop!
Why do you have to wander the south?
The site of enlightenment is right
Under your feet.
- T'aego (1301-1382)
News brought through shop is of a man who summers across harbor, he has a type of cancer; will we keep him in prayer? Another man from nearby is separated from wife and child; he's been seen and doesn't look good, (says the bearer of news), thinks he is hiding -- maybe drinking?
An emigre says this country is beginning to unravel the lies and distortions surrounding the war against Iraq, bad economic policy, and perhaps the deeply disturbing atmosphere of intimidation and fear will begin to lift -- won't it? Commissions are being formed, special investigations begin, newspapers and magazines are emboldened raising questions and expressing opinions -- truth will out?
Open your ears, O God, to my prayer,
and do not hide when I call on you:
turn to me and answer me.
My thoughts are distracted and I am disturbed
by the voice of my enemy and the oppression of the wicked.
They let loose their wickedness on me,
they persecute me in their anger.
My heart is tied in a knot
and the terrors of death lie upon me;
fear and trembling cover me;
terror holds me tight.
I said, "Will no-one give me wings like a dove?
I shall fly away and rest.
I shall flee far away
and remain all alone.
I shall wait for him who will save me
from the stormy wind and the tempest?"
-- Psalm 54 (55)
Snow blows dusk into harbor. Tide rises, lowers, ebbs, turns again. Turning hidden beyond storm clouds, full moon is somewhere else seen.
If enlightenment were to be of anyone's concern, it could be looked for embedded in each person's life and situation.
If we were to wish to fly away and rest we could turn around right where we are -- far away and absolutely near where our thinking thought we were -- recognizing the place as origin -- remaining, all, alone.
Psalmist words for us: O God -- Turn to me as we to thee.
In turning is the return -- whether turning toward or away -- it is in the return to origin we find what we are looking for.
Loss only prepares in us what we are reluctant to acknowledge.
What is that?
If we look under our feet, what is seen...?
Looking out at harbor, a glaze of white falling snow. In right hand pane of lower window, reflection of fire back across the room.
This message is not just
For the rich and noble
The thousand flowers
And the hundred grasses
All have spring within them
Profound people in later days
Who read the sutras
Do not ask the way to the
Great road of enlightenment.
Stop! Stop!
Why do you have to wander the south?
The site of enlightenment is right
Under your feet.
- T'aego (1301-1382)
News brought through shop is of a man who summers across harbor, he has a type of cancer; will we keep him in prayer? Another man from nearby is separated from wife and child; he's been seen and doesn't look good, (says the bearer of news), thinks he is hiding -- maybe drinking?
An emigre says this country is beginning to unravel the lies and distortions surrounding the war against Iraq, bad economic policy, and perhaps the deeply disturbing atmosphere of intimidation and fear will begin to lift -- won't it? Commissions are being formed, special investigations begin, newspapers and magazines are emboldened raising questions and expressing opinions -- truth will out?
Open your ears, O God, to my prayer,
and do not hide when I call on you:
turn to me and answer me.
My thoughts are distracted and I am disturbed
by the voice of my enemy and the oppression of the wicked.
They let loose their wickedness on me,
they persecute me in their anger.
My heart is tied in a knot
and the terrors of death lie upon me;
fear and trembling cover me;
terror holds me tight.
I said, "Will no-one give me wings like a dove?
I shall fly away and rest.
I shall flee far away
and remain all alone.
I shall wait for him who will save me
from the stormy wind and the tempest?"
-- Psalm 54 (55)
Snow blows dusk into harbor. Tide rises, lowers, ebbs, turns again. Turning hidden beyond storm clouds, full moon is somewhere else seen.
If enlightenment were to be of anyone's concern, it could be looked for embedded in each person's life and situation.
If we were to wish to fly away and rest we could turn around right where we are -- far away and absolutely near where our thinking thought we were -- recognizing the place as origin -- remaining, all, alone.
Psalmist words for us: O God -- Turn to me as we to thee.
In turning is the return -- whether turning toward or away -- it is in the return to origin we find what we are looking for.
Loss only prepares in us what we are reluctant to acknowledge.
What is that?
If we look under our feet, what is seen...?
Thursday, February 05, 2004
A locked church sent him into the shop.
His brother dies and is not found for over two weeks. He takes a friend into his house the night before he learns of his brother. The needy friend reminds him of his brother. Why do we pray?
A single moon
Bright and clear
In an unclouded sky;
Yet still we stumble
In the world’s darkness.
- Ikkyu (1394-1481)
We stumble into one another's presence.
We pray to recognize each in each.
His brother dies and is not found for over two weeks. He takes a friend into his house the night before he learns of his brother. The needy friend reminds him of his brother. Why do we pray?
A single moon
Bright and clear
In an unclouded sky;
Yet still we stumble
In the world’s darkness.
- Ikkyu (1394-1481)
We stumble into one another's presence.
We pray to recognize each in each.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Power is passing.
When the fury of emotion appears before us or within us -- bow head, be submissive, surrender to the passing enormity that cannot be controlled -- only let go,
Creaking to the post office
on my rusty bike
I saw one purple iris
wild in the wet green
of the rice field.
I wanted to send it to you.
I can only tell you
it was there.
(-- Maura O'Halloran, in Pure Heart, Enlightened Mind, The Zen Journal and Letters of Maura "Soshin" O'Halloran)
At Wednesday Evening Laura Conversation we pronounced questions that accompany us on spiritual path. Eight silences speak the same number of questions.
Encircling the middle, interest ("inter"= between; "esse"= to be) in what is asked.
What is asking is what is answering.
In silence, listening with one another, and speaking.
It was there.
When the fury of emotion appears before us or within us -- bow head, be submissive, surrender to the passing enormity that cannot be controlled -- only let go,
Creaking to the post office
on my rusty bike
I saw one purple iris
wild in the wet green
of the rice field.
I wanted to send it to you.
I can only tell you
it was there.
(-- Maura O'Halloran, in Pure Heart, Enlightened Mind, The Zen Journal and Letters of Maura "Soshin" O'Halloran)
At Wednesday Evening Laura Conversation we pronounced questions that accompany us on spiritual path. Eight silences speak the same number of questions.
Encircling the middle, interest ("inter"= between; "esse"= to be) in what is asked.
What is asking is what is answering.
In silence, listening with one another, and speaking.
It was there.
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
In Boothbay the man about to turn 80 said over soup and sandwich, "You know what it's like to experience the futility of life?" With his eyes he anticipated a yes. I said yes.
When silent illumination is complete,
The lotus will blossom,
The dreamer will awaken.
The hundred rivers flow to the ocean,
The thousand mountains
Face the loftiest peak.
Like the goose preferring milk to water,
Like a busy bee gathering pollen,
When Silent Illumination
Reaches the ultimate,
I carry on the original tradition.
This practice is called Silent Illumination.
It penetrates from the deepest to the highest.
- Hung Chih Cheng Chueh (1092-1157)
Lighting fire this morning I thought about the realities of solitary life. It's not so much being alone that characterizes a solitary life. It's more a willingness to be irrelevant.
The supreme support for a person who has just died is the depth of our own practice and the strength of our positive, compassionate intention. If through our practice we are familiar with the nature of mind and can rest undistracted in that state, then meditating on behalf of our deceased friend will "show" him the truth of his own nature. As Padmasambhava said:
"As soon as our body has separated into mind and matter, in the gap before it has been encased once again in the net of a future body, the mind along with its magical display has no concrete material support. For as long as it lacks such a material basis we are independent and we can recognize. This power to attain stability by just recognizing the nature of mind is like a torch which in one instant can clear away the darkness of eons."
(p.189, in Facing Death and Finding Hope, A Guide to the Emotional and Spiritual Care of the Dying, by Christine Longaker)
Irrelevant, I light fire in the morning; and in the afternoon break ice by dock in harbor alongside Sam and Susan's dory.
To be irrelevant is to love to be unknown.
Just recognizing.
Enough for now.
When silent illumination is complete,
The lotus will blossom,
The dreamer will awaken.
The hundred rivers flow to the ocean,
The thousand mountains
Face the loftiest peak.
Like the goose preferring milk to water,
Like a busy bee gathering pollen,
When Silent Illumination
Reaches the ultimate,
I carry on the original tradition.
This practice is called Silent Illumination.
It penetrates from the deepest to the highest.
- Hung Chih Cheng Chueh (1092-1157)
Lighting fire this morning I thought about the realities of solitary life. It's not so much being alone that characterizes a solitary life. It's more a willingness to be irrelevant.
The supreme support for a person who has just died is the depth of our own practice and the strength of our positive, compassionate intention. If through our practice we are familiar with the nature of mind and can rest undistracted in that state, then meditating on behalf of our deceased friend will "show" him the truth of his own nature. As Padmasambhava said:
"As soon as our body has separated into mind and matter, in the gap before it has been encased once again in the net of a future body, the mind along with its magical display has no concrete material support. For as long as it lacks such a material basis we are independent and we can recognize. This power to attain stability by just recognizing the nature of mind is like a torch which in one instant can clear away the darkness of eons."
(p.189, in Facing Death and Finding Hope, A Guide to the Emotional and Spiritual Care of the Dying, by Christine Longaker)
Irrelevant, I light fire in the morning; and in the afternoon break ice by dock in harbor alongside Sam and Susan's dory.
To be irrelevant is to love to be unknown.
Just recognizing.
Enough for now.
Sunday, February 01, 2004
Fire sparks at end of day in shop fireplace. At Hermitage, woodstove in cabin easily warms interior now that temperature has neared +20. Kitchen woodstove cheers the house.
Silvery moon hangs high in the sky.
I ride a tiny boat in the vast and misty sea.
Moon and sea forgotten;
I forget that I have forgotten.
And before the window
I sit quietly in meditation until midnight.
- Jakushitsu (1290 - 1368)
Maybe for only Sunday Evening Practice tonight.
Chris read from William James at Saturday's Poetry, Tea, and Literature. I find this today:
Summing up in the broadest possible way the characteristics of the religious life, as we have found them, it includes the following beliefs: --
1. That the visible world is part of a more spiritual universe from which it draws its chief significance;
2. That union or harmonious relation with that higher universe is our true end;
3. That prayer or inner communion with the spirit thereof -- be that spirit "God" or "law" -- is a process wherein work is really done, and spiritual energy flows in and produces effects, psychological or material, within the phenomenal world.
Religion includes also the following psychological characteristics: --
4. A new zest which adds itself like a gift to life, and takes the form either of lyrical enchantment or of appeal to earnestness and heroism.
5. An assurance of safety and a temper of peace, and, in relation to others, a preponderance of loving affections.
(p.475, Lecture XX Conclusions, THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE, A Study in Human Nature Being the Gifford Lectures on Natural Religion Delivered at Edinburgh in 1901-1902)
It occurs to me writing someone in the Midwest that all we can do is try to see what is being seen:
As a practitioner of Buddhism I subscribe to the middle way. As a Christian I've always believed Christ was the center, at center, of everything in creation -- literally in the middle of everything. So, the middle is a good place to be aware of -- but it takes practice for me.
If I were looking with an open heart, I'd be looking through that middle reality existing at core and between you and me. If I were aware of what I was looking at and through, I'd be ok.
Darkness is ending. It is February. The sun warms.
Hugh C. writes, "Hello Liam O' hAlpin," and sends the following:
IMBOLG or BRIDGID'S DAY
Imbolg (Feb 1) is "a solemn and joyful time: the ending of darkness after
the 'seed of light' which began at the Solstice [which] gradually pushes
its way into the air." It is also the time when first-born lambs emerge and
the hours of daylight increase. Imbolg is called St. Bridget's Day and she
is still known as Mary of the Gael. She is invoked with Mary (spelled Muire
in Gaelic) in birthing or in lighting the fires or in the evening by
"smooring" or putting ashes on, the fire. She is petitioned with prayers to
protect the house and the household throughout the night. According to
legend she was the midwife and wet-nurse to Jesus and as such was invoked
during childbirth. Above all doorways it used to be the custom to place a
Brigid's Cross (the off-centered cross symbolizing also the wheel of life).
It was traditionally woven with rushes (reeds) on the eve of Imbolg. In
times gone by the response to a greeting such as "Dia agat" was "Brid agus
Muire agat" (breejus mwirragut).
Women in the Highlands of Scotland invoked St. Brigid with the prayer
Come, thou Brigid, handmaid calm
Hasten the butter on the cream
See impatient Peter
waiting the buttered bannock
Come Mary Mother mild
Hasten the butter on the cream
See Paul and John and Jesus
Waiting the gracious butter.
Brigid was Abbess of Kildare and is the patron saint, not only of birth and
milking and churning, but also of poets, smiths and healers. In these forms
she is the continuation of the "tripartite goddess: the young girl, the muse
of the poets; the matron, whose skill...also shapes the material world; and
the crone, the old woman, whose wisdom enables her to heal those who ask her
for help." Cormac's Glossary (10th century) says that Brighid [was] a
poetess, daughter of the Dagda. She is the female sage, woman of wisdom, or
Brighid the Goddess, whom poets venerated because [she was] very great and
famous for her protecting care. She was therefore called "Goddess of Poets".
Her sisters were Brighid the female physician, and Brighid the female smith;
among all Irishmen, a goddess was called "Brighid." According to Eric
Partridge, the etymologist, her name is akin to the Sanskrit "brhati",
meaning lofty and hence powerful.
(Quotes are from "The Celtic Year" by Shirley Toulson and "The Encyclopedia
of Celtic Wisdom" by Caitlin Matthews.)
It cheers there are such women and men about who are willing to look and to see.
For each and all of us this day: Assurance of safety, a temper of peace, and, in relation to others, a preponderance of loving affections!
And may we see and find ourselves a middle way.
Silvery moon hangs high in the sky.
I ride a tiny boat in the vast and misty sea.
Moon and sea forgotten;
I forget that I have forgotten.
And before the window
I sit quietly in meditation until midnight.
- Jakushitsu (1290 - 1368)
Maybe for only Sunday Evening Practice tonight.
Chris read from William James at Saturday's Poetry, Tea, and Literature. I find this today:
Summing up in the broadest possible way the characteristics of the religious life, as we have found them, it includes the following beliefs: --
1. That the visible world is part of a more spiritual universe from which it draws its chief significance;
2. That union or harmonious relation with that higher universe is our true end;
3. That prayer or inner communion with the spirit thereof -- be that spirit "God" or "law" -- is a process wherein work is really done, and spiritual energy flows in and produces effects, psychological or material, within the phenomenal world.
Religion includes also the following psychological characteristics: --
4. A new zest which adds itself like a gift to life, and takes the form either of lyrical enchantment or of appeal to earnestness and heroism.
5. An assurance of safety and a temper of peace, and, in relation to others, a preponderance of loving affections.
(p.475, Lecture XX Conclusions, THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE, A Study in Human Nature Being the Gifford Lectures on Natural Religion Delivered at Edinburgh in 1901-1902)
It occurs to me writing someone in the Midwest that all we can do is try to see what is being seen:
As a practitioner of Buddhism I subscribe to the middle way. As a Christian I've always believed Christ was the center, at center, of everything in creation -- literally in the middle of everything. So, the middle is a good place to be aware of -- but it takes practice for me.
If I were looking with an open heart, I'd be looking through that middle reality existing at core and between you and me. If I were aware of what I was looking at and through, I'd be ok.
Darkness is ending. It is February. The sun warms.
Hugh C. writes, "Hello Liam O' hAlpin," and sends the following:
IMBOLG or BRIDGID'S DAY
Imbolg (Feb 1) is "a solemn and joyful time: the ending of darkness after
the 'seed of light' which began at the Solstice [which] gradually pushes
its way into the air." It is also the time when first-born lambs emerge and
the hours of daylight increase. Imbolg is called St. Bridget's Day and she
is still known as Mary of the Gael. She is invoked with Mary (spelled Muire
in Gaelic) in birthing or in lighting the fires or in the evening by
"smooring" or putting ashes on, the fire. She is petitioned with prayers to
protect the house and the household throughout the night. According to
legend she was the midwife and wet-nurse to Jesus and as such was invoked
during childbirth. Above all doorways it used to be the custom to place a
Brigid's Cross (the off-centered cross symbolizing also the wheel of life).
It was traditionally woven with rushes (reeds) on the eve of Imbolg. In
times gone by the response to a greeting such as "Dia agat" was "Brid agus
Muire agat" (breejus mwirragut).
Women in the Highlands of Scotland invoked St. Brigid with the prayer
Come, thou Brigid, handmaid calm
Hasten the butter on the cream
See impatient Peter
waiting the buttered bannock
Come Mary Mother mild
Hasten the butter on the cream
See Paul and John and Jesus
Waiting the gracious butter.
Brigid was Abbess of Kildare and is the patron saint, not only of birth and
milking and churning, but also of poets, smiths and healers. In these forms
she is the continuation of the "tripartite goddess: the young girl, the muse
of the poets; the matron, whose skill...also shapes the material world; and
the crone, the old woman, whose wisdom enables her to heal those who ask her
for help." Cormac's Glossary (10th century) says that Brighid [was] a
poetess, daughter of the Dagda. She is the female sage, woman of wisdom, or
Brighid the Goddess, whom poets venerated because [she was] very great and
famous for her protecting care. She was therefore called "Goddess of Poets".
Her sisters were Brighid the female physician, and Brighid the female smith;
among all Irishmen, a goddess was called "Brighid." According to Eric
Partridge, the etymologist, her name is akin to the Sanskrit "brhati",
meaning lofty and hence powerful.
(Quotes are from "The Celtic Year" by Shirley Toulson and "The Encyclopedia
of Celtic Wisdom" by Caitlin Matthews.)
It cheers there are such women and men about who are willing to look and to see.
For each and all of us this day: Assurance of safety, a temper of peace, and, in relation to others, a preponderance of loving affections!
And may we see and find ourselves a middle way.
Saturday, January 31, 2004
Mythos, from muthos, "tale," has as much to do with silence as it does with telling.
Even if "You Have to Say Something," as Dainin Katagiri Roshi's book is titled, we sometimes have to look beyond the usual choices for a response.
Robert Pirsig suggests a way to think outside ordinary duality:
Yes and no ... this or that ... one or zero. On the basis of this elementary two-term discrimination, all human knowledge is built up. The demonstration of this is computer memory which stores all its knowledge in the form of binary information. It contains ones and zeros, that's all.
Because we're unaccustomed to it, we don't usually see that there's a third possible logical term equal to yes and no which is capable of expanding our understanding in an unrecognized direction. We don't even have a term for it, so I'll have to use the Japanese mu.
Mu means "no thing.'' Like "Quality'' it points outside the process of dualistic discrimination. Mu simply says, "No class; not one, not zero, not yes, not no.'' It states that the context of the question is such that a yes or no answer is in error and should not be given. "Unask the question'' is what it says.
Mu becomes appropriate when the context of the question becomes too small for the truth of the answer. When the Zen monk Joshu was asked whether a dog had a Buddha nature he said "Mu,'' meaning that if he answered either way he was answering incorrectly. The Buddha nature cannot be captured by yes or no questions.
That mu exists in the natural world investigated by science is evident. It's just that, as usual, we're trained not to see it by our heritage.
(- p.320, Robert Pirsig, in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance)
If Pirsig suggests 'heritage' trains us 'not to see' -- perhaps 'hermitage' invites us to see.
This hermitage was here first
Only then, the world.
When the world crumbles,
This hermitage will not be destroyed.
The host inside the hermitage
Is present everywhere.
The moon shines on the eternal void;
The wind whistles through
Ten thousand openings.
- Shiwu (1347)
Hermitage, for this view, might be seeing what is core and care of what is. That anything is at all, is itself invitation to look into it. It is the inner view that helps develop vision for how to respond to outer necessities -- like food, clothing, shelter, human interaction with one another, with created matter, and with the unknown which surrounds and interpenetrates this existence.
Hermitage is practicing seeing, saying, and serving. This in a silence that permeates both wordless and wording presence.
Jesus found he had to say something.
And he said, "Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place. Indeed, I tell you, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah when the sky was closed for three and a half years and a severe famine spread over the entire land. It was to none of these that Elijah was sent, but only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon. Again, there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian." When the people in the synagogue heard this, they were all filled with fury. They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl him down headlong. But Jesus passed through the midst of them and went away. (from Luke 4:21-30)
There's something both musical and mythical about "passing through the midst of them" and disappearing.
The best place to find and lose oneself is in the midst of where we are. To be there, wherever we are, is to learn telling silence.
We are only passing visitors here.
This hermitage was here first.
As each with each in silence.
Even if "You Have to Say Something," as Dainin Katagiri Roshi's book is titled, we sometimes have to look beyond the usual choices for a response.
Robert Pirsig suggests a way to think outside ordinary duality:
Yes and no ... this or that ... one or zero. On the basis of this elementary two-term discrimination, all human knowledge is built up. The demonstration of this is computer memory which stores all its knowledge in the form of binary information. It contains ones and zeros, that's all.
Because we're unaccustomed to it, we don't usually see that there's a third possible logical term equal to yes and no which is capable of expanding our understanding in an unrecognized direction. We don't even have a term for it, so I'll have to use the Japanese mu.
Mu means "no thing.'' Like "Quality'' it points outside the process of dualistic discrimination. Mu simply says, "No class; not one, not zero, not yes, not no.'' It states that the context of the question is such that a yes or no answer is in error and should not be given. "Unask the question'' is what it says.
Mu becomes appropriate when the context of the question becomes too small for the truth of the answer. When the Zen monk Joshu was asked whether a dog had a Buddha nature he said "Mu,'' meaning that if he answered either way he was answering incorrectly. The Buddha nature cannot be captured by yes or no questions.
That mu exists in the natural world investigated by science is evident. It's just that, as usual, we're trained not to see it by our heritage.
(- p.320, Robert Pirsig, in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance)
If Pirsig suggests 'heritage' trains us 'not to see' -- perhaps 'hermitage' invites us to see.
This hermitage was here first
Only then, the world.
When the world crumbles,
This hermitage will not be destroyed.
The host inside the hermitage
Is present everywhere.
The moon shines on the eternal void;
The wind whistles through
Ten thousand openings.
- Shiwu (1347)
Hermitage, for this view, might be seeing what is core and care of what is. That anything is at all, is itself invitation to look into it. It is the inner view that helps develop vision for how to respond to outer necessities -- like food, clothing, shelter, human interaction with one another, with created matter, and with the unknown which surrounds and interpenetrates this existence.
Hermitage is practicing seeing, saying, and serving. This in a silence that permeates both wordless and wording presence.
Jesus found he had to say something.
And he said, "Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place. Indeed, I tell you, there were many widows in Israel in the days of Elijah when the sky was closed for three and a half years and a severe famine spread over the entire land. It was to none of these that Elijah was sent, but only to a widow in Zarephath in the land of Sidon. Again, there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet; yet not one of them was cleansed, but only Naaman the Syrian." When the people in the synagogue heard this, they were all filled with fury. They rose up, drove him out of the town, and led him to the brow of the hill on which their town had been built, to hurl him down headlong. But Jesus passed through the midst of them and went away. (from Luke 4:21-30)
There's something both musical and mythical about "passing through the midst of them" and disappearing.
The best place to find and lose oneself is in the midst of where we are. To be there, wherever we are, is to learn telling silence.
We are only passing visitors here.
This hermitage was here first.
As each with each in silence.
Friday, January 30, 2004
This is the nature of conversation.
"The tension between solitude and communion has existed at nearly every stage of the history of spirituality." (p.43, in article "Mending Broken Connections: A Process Spirituality," by Kathleen R. Fischer, in Chicago Studies, April 1987).
This morning at prison Joe comes in half way through the conversation. In one hand crumpled paper, stapler in the other. He sits down. After 5 minutes he nods, says "That's what I needed, to calm in this environment. I just put 40 staples into one paper while putting up with annoying interruptions." There's laughter. He's smiling as he leaves.
We talked of the Latin "Hoc" in the Christian rite of consecration. Ryan asked at end, "You know what the answer is?" Then he answered, "Faith in this."
One who gives rise to the awakened mind should know that what is called a self or person, a living being or a life span, is not so in essence but only in concept. That names self, person, living being, or life span are names only. Subhuti, you should know that all things of the world are like this, and you should have confidence in their essence without names.
- Diamond Sutra
Around fireplace Peter, Tommy, and Gale are trying to decide whether female energy would change the imbalance of power and violence in today's militaristic approach to problems. Their words approach stalemate.
When any part of the whole appropriates to itself what belongs to the whole, that's when trouble shows its face, that's when difficulty arises. Whether male/female, patriarchal/matriarchal, liberal/conservative, left/right, right/wrong -- or any myriad either/or opinion -- when we fragment the whole for purposes of determining superiority/inferiority, we lose the sense of whatever grace resides at origin.
"Religion is only man telling God what God ought to be," says Tommy before he launches into his song "Treebird" accompanying himself on small acoustical guitar that hangs out by the dog's water bowl. He sings, "The bird may find that flying is a good thing to know." (The bird didn't want to fly, he explains.)
We sit for Friday Evening Interreligious Dialogue with Nasr's book on the Heart of Islam.
Saskia says the piece about Islam's encompassing and taking in all the other religions -- is something for her to think about. Gale, Tommy, Lloyd, Patricia, Dick, Saskia and I encircled the text with open listening. We wondered what is actually asked of us by surrender?
After everyone leaves and departure nears, Saskia rubs lotion on her hands. Bakery is closed. Lights all out but for remaining one over refrigerator. Car warms in frigid parking lot.
She says when asked, "The nature of conversation is listening deeply and speaking from one's heart."
This practice of conversation is a lovely one.
This (Hoc) is the body we recognize in the pronouncing words celebrating the solitude and communion of gratefulness. No matter how it is ritualized, one thing does not become something else -- rather, each thing or person is recognized as itself.
"This," Nancy said as we drove from prison, "is Meetingbrook's presenting practice."
This is the nature of conversation.
"The tension between solitude and communion has existed at nearly every stage of the history of spirituality." (p.43, in article "Mending Broken Connections: A Process Spirituality," by Kathleen R. Fischer, in Chicago Studies, April 1987).
This morning at prison Joe comes in half way through the conversation. In one hand crumpled paper, stapler in the other. He sits down. After 5 minutes he nods, says "That's what I needed, to calm in this environment. I just put 40 staples into one paper while putting up with annoying interruptions." There's laughter. He's smiling as he leaves.
We talked of the Latin "Hoc" in the Christian rite of consecration. Ryan asked at end, "You know what the answer is?" Then he answered, "Faith in this."
One who gives rise to the awakened mind should know that what is called a self or person, a living being or a life span, is not so in essence but only in concept. That names self, person, living being, or life span are names only. Subhuti, you should know that all things of the world are like this, and you should have confidence in their essence without names.
- Diamond Sutra
Around fireplace Peter, Tommy, and Gale are trying to decide whether female energy would change the imbalance of power and violence in today's militaristic approach to problems. Their words approach stalemate.
When any part of the whole appropriates to itself what belongs to the whole, that's when trouble shows its face, that's when difficulty arises. Whether male/female, patriarchal/matriarchal, liberal/conservative, left/right, right/wrong -- or any myriad either/or opinion -- when we fragment the whole for purposes of determining superiority/inferiority, we lose the sense of whatever grace resides at origin.
"Religion is only man telling God what God ought to be," says Tommy before he launches into his song "Treebird" accompanying himself on small acoustical guitar that hangs out by the dog's water bowl. He sings, "The bird may find that flying is a good thing to know." (The bird didn't want to fly, he explains.)
We sit for Friday Evening Interreligious Dialogue with Nasr's book on the Heart of Islam.
Saskia says the piece about Islam's encompassing and taking in all the other religions -- is something for her to think about. Gale, Tommy, Lloyd, Patricia, Dick, Saskia and I encircled the text with open listening. We wondered what is actually asked of us by surrender?
After everyone leaves and departure nears, Saskia rubs lotion on her hands. Bakery is closed. Lights all out but for remaining one over refrigerator. Car warms in frigid parking lot.
She says when asked, "The nature of conversation is listening deeply and speaking from one's heart."
This practice of conversation is a lovely one.
This (Hoc) is the body we recognize in the pronouncing words celebrating the solitude and communion of gratefulness. No matter how it is ritualized, one thing does not become something else -- rather, each thing or person is recognized as itself.
"This," Nancy said as we drove from prison, "is Meetingbrook's presenting practice."
This is the nature of conversation.
Thursday, January 29, 2004
Sometimes we each feel like an orphan.
Susan liked what Will said. The connection between matter and mater (L. 'mother'). We wondered whether 'mother consciousness' would make our attention to matter more loving and caring.
Subhuti, do not think that when one gives rise to the highest, most fulfilled, awakened mind one needs to see all objects of mind as nonexistent, cut off from life. Please do not think in that way. One who gives rise to the awakened mind does not deny objects or say that they are nonexistent.
- Diamond Sutra
It is more the task of losing the limiting liabilities of matter -- not eliminating matter itself. Many have held that a descent into matter is a degradation of spirit. Many long only for spirit, to be rid of body, to step away from matter with the accompanying belief in its inferiority, sinfulness, and crass barriers and boundaries.
Redeeming creation is not shunting away what is created. It is more about returning creation and matter to original state -- that which it is at origin -- its center fullness. The original 'what-is-ness' of matter resides within everything in creation.
Perhaps to redeem is to remind a thing of its original wholeness.
Will spoke of Integral Yoga, Sri Aurabindo, as his path. He spoke of the path of knowing (jnana), of devotion (bhatki), and of works (karma) -- each of which flows into the other as they find fullness.
What did the words of that song say? -- "When we awake we will remember everything."
We think we are what is holding together all that is. But if we let go, 'what-is itself' will hold us all together in divine embrace upholding.
Mother of God -- mothering God!
No orphan.
Susan liked what Will said. The connection between matter and mater (L. 'mother'). We wondered whether 'mother consciousness' would make our attention to matter more loving and caring.
Subhuti, do not think that when one gives rise to the highest, most fulfilled, awakened mind one needs to see all objects of mind as nonexistent, cut off from life. Please do not think in that way. One who gives rise to the awakened mind does not deny objects or say that they are nonexistent.
- Diamond Sutra
It is more the task of losing the limiting liabilities of matter -- not eliminating matter itself. Many have held that a descent into matter is a degradation of spirit. Many long only for spirit, to be rid of body, to step away from matter with the accompanying belief in its inferiority, sinfulness, and crass barriers and boundaries.
Redeeming creation is not shunting away what is created. It is more about returning creation and matter to original state -- that which it is at origin -- its center fullness. The original 'what-is-ness' of matter resides within everything in creation.
Perhaps to redeem is to remind a thing of its original wholeness.
Will spoke of Integral Yoga, Sri Aurabindo, as his path. He spoke of the path of knowing (jnana), of devotion (bhatki), and of works (karma) -- each of which flows into the other as they find fullness.
What did the words of that song say? -- "When we awake we will remember everything."
We think we are what is holding together all that is. But if we let go, 'what-is itself' will hold us all together in divine embrace upholding.
Mother of God -- mothering God!
No orphan.
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
Maybe it isn't.
Is each fact true? Each fact is itself alongside others. Yet, one thing is not the other. Or is it?
Cream of Wheat with banana, blueberries, and vanilla Stonyfield yogurt.
Arvo Part's 'Magnificat' plays. It serves this morning as a prelude to surrendering interest in politics, presidential race, and postscripts to deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan as well as report issued in England following investigation of former arms inspector's suicide last year. Each fact stands alone.
Jen said last evening it is best to let the low level, dark resonances of others' negative thoughts pass by noting, 'these are not mine.' Richard retells story of rescuing dog while thin ice held him aloft. Shunryu Suzuki's Not Always So suggests when breathing and activity are in harmony, when mind and body are clear and still together -- we are free, liberated, to engage everything and everyone without fear. Lloyd, John, and Saskia bravely step over threshold engaging question of inseparable experience.
Purifying our self direction,
Our emotions, and behaviors
In all endeavors, one grows
In understanding of the Way.
But our individual abilities vary
And the exalted Way has many
Different rules.
To students of Tao,
This sincere forewarning:
Only with a clear, honest spirit
Can we begin meaningful learning.
With an unsullied heart we may
Even move the immortals.
Debasing the Way,
Not even a heaven forgives us.
- Loy Ching-Yuen (1873-1960)
The Way opens before us. Each true step -- and we traverse infinite time and space in each instant and inch of geography. Each false step -- and we fall into the morass of deception imprisoned in the very space encircling us. Who can tell which step we have just taken? Who foretells the next step we take?
Sitting in cabin just before sunrise this morning, glancing out along fallen stone wall below floor level windows, gray squirrel steps across stones, right to left, on way to ground seed under bird feeders near overturned dinghy.
Chanting through expanding billows of worded breath, we sing:
Blessed be the name of the Lord, from this day hence, and forever. From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. Ah-ah-ah-amen.
If we want truth, a Zen Master said, only drop opinions.
Even Thomas Aquinas found straw the equivalent to his Summa Theologica. It was his final opinion on his life's work.
Practicing no opinion -- Wednesday opens.
Standing alone.
Maybe it is.
Is each fact true? Each fact is itself alongside others. Yet, one thing is not the other. Or is it?
Cream of Wheat with banana, blueberries, and vanilla Stonyfield yogurt.
Arvo Part's 'Magnificat' plays. It serves this morning as a prelude to surrendering interest in politics, presidential race, and postscripts to deaths in Iraq and Afghanistan as well as report issued in England following investigation of former arms inspector's suicide last year. Each fact stands alone.
Jen said last evening it is best to let the low level, dark resonances of others' negative thoughts pass by noting, 'these are not mine.' Richard retells story of rescuing dog while thin ice held him aloft. Shunryu Suzuki's Not Always So suggests when breathing and activity are in harmony, when mind and body are clear and still together -- we are free, liberated, to engage everything and everyone without fear. Lloyd, John, and Saskia bravely step over threshold engaging question of inseparable experience.
Purifying our self direction,
Our emotions, and behaviors
In all endeavors, one grows
In understanding of the Way.
But our individual abilities vary
And the exalted Way has many
Different rules.
To students of Tao,
This sincere forewarning:
Only with a clear, honest spirit
Can we begin meaningful learning.
With an unsullied heart we may
Even move the immortals.
Debasing the Way,
Not even a heaven forgives us.
- Loy Ching-Yuen (1873-1960)
The Way opens before us. Each true step -- and we traverse infinite time and space in each instant and inch of geography. Each false step -- and we fall into the morass of deception imprisoned in the very space encircling us. Who can tell which step we have just taken? Who foretells the next step we take?
Sitting in cabin just before sunrise this morning, glancing out along fallen stone wall below floor level windows, gray squirrel steps across stones, right to left, on way to ground seed under bird feeders near overturned dinghy.
Chanting through expanding billows of worded breath, we sing:
Blessed be the name of the Lord, from this day hence, and forever. From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised. Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. Ah-ah-ah-amen.
If we want truth, a Zen Master said, only drop opinions.
Even Thomas Aquinas found straw the equivalent to his Summa Theologica. It was his final opinion on his life's work.
Practicing no opinion -- Wednesday opens.
Standing alone.
Maybe it is.
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
Coast Guard cutter Tackle breaks harbor ice. Floes, 8 to 10 inches thick and yards long, drift with outgoing tide down channels.
Priscilla said her husband seemed to be able to hear an individual's spirit speaking when he talked with that person. He'd write a poem or story. She brings in his writings and some of her artwork. Do we ever understand what we are seeing or saying? These writings will visit to see if they find their own context, even context in another's view.
Isn't that our prayer?
Prayer
Whatever happens. Whatever
what is is is what
I want. Only that. But that
(Poem: "Prayer," by Galway Kinnell, from A New Selected Poems, c.2001)
A woman from France and man with either Middle Eastern or Middle European accent speak by fireplace over lemon tea bread, apfel kuchen, and pain chocolat.
Today -- longing for a hermit's solitude.
The shade of noble trees
Spreads in all directions
Below the trees a tiny
Hut is perfectly secluded
Beyond the sound of cart
Or horse or sign of human tracks
All day behind my door
I sit alone cross-legged.
- Han-shan Te-ch'ing (1546-1623)
Talk of Turkey, India, Greece, France, and England.
Ice is gone to open bay. I am gone to the sound intersecting mute origination and silent attentiveness.
Whatever 'what is' is, only and but, that.
Light at end of day climbs over Wayfarer roof. Remaining large floes inch slowly through water as stillness ebbs. The man's healing shoulder and wrapped arm rests under red sweater.
...This is, I think,
what holiness is:
the natural world,
where every moment is full
of the passion to keep moving.
Inside every mind
there's a hermit's cave
full of light,
full of snow,
full of concentration.
I've knelt there,
and so have you,
Hanging on
to what you love,
to what is lovely. ...
-- (from poem, "At the Lake," by Mary Oliver)
Prayer drifts alongside whatever happens.
Priscilla said her husband seemed to be able to hear an individual's spirit speaking when he talked with that person. He'd write a poem or story. She brings in his writings and some of her artwork. Do we ever understand what we are seeing or saying? These writings will visit to see if they find their own context, even context in another's view.
Isn't that our prayer?
Prayer
Whatever happens. Whatever
what is is is what
I want. Only that. But that
(Poem: "Prayer," by Galway Kinnell, from A New Selected Poems, c.2001)
A woman from France and man with either Middle Eastern or Middle European accent speak by fireplace over lemon tea bread, apfel kuchen, and pain chocolat.
Today -- longing for a hermit's solitude.
The shade of noble trees
Spreads in all directions
Below the trees a tiny
Hut is perfectly secluded
Beyond the sound of cart
Or horse or sign of human tracks
All day behind my door
I sit alone cross-legged.
- Han-shan Te-ch'ing (1546-1623)
Talk of Turkey, India, Greece, France, and England.
Ice is gone to open bay. I am gone to the sound intersecting mute origination and silent attentiveness.
Whatever 'what is' is, only and but, that.
Light at end of day climbs over Wayfarer roof. Remaining large floes inch slowly through water as stillness ebbs. The man's healing shoulder and wrapped arm rests under red sweater.
...This is, I think,
what holiness is:
the natural world,
where every moment is full
of the passion to keep moving.
Inside every mind
there's a hermit's cave
full of light,
full of snow,
full of concentration.
I've knelt there,
and so have you,
Hanging on
to what you love,
to what is lovely. ...
-- (from poem, "At the Lake," by Mary Oliver)
Prayer drifts alongside whatever happens.
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