Saturday, January 20, 2018

whose breath is it, anyway

does body
leave breath

or breath
leave body —

at hospice
tonight

question is
very near

as we
share breath

in dimly
lit rooms

where fabric
needles and

cat behind
fridge

are out
of sight

‘tis of thee

one year

later —

it’s not

too late

Friday, January 19, 2018

ji-ji-muge*

my room 
Is silent

as is
the house

waking up
to no 

one
here

...   ...   ...
* According to the Kegon teachings, when applied to human activity ri-ji-muge denotes seeking for the Buddha in the mind. The ji-ji-muge concept denotes looking for the Universal Buddha in the body. Following out the former idea, the flesh is regarded as a shackle imprisoning the enquiring spirit, so that by retiring from the world one should reduce it to proper submission and thereby obtain enlightenment. With the ji-ji-muge concept, however, illumination can be found only through perfecting flesh by bringing out its latent potentialities and thereby uncovering the Buddha hidden in the human heart. When applied this concept to the Mahayana schools of Buddhism, one may say that ri-ji-muge is the Way of Sitting (Zazen in Soto), while Ji-ji-muge is the Way of Moving in the World.  
(see P.K. Eidmann’”The Lion Roar”, Jodo Publishing, 1947 also various books by Kegon scholars such as Shinya Kasugai, Ryosho Takamine) 
(—from, Ji-ji-muge and Economics of Enlightenment, Chris J. Czerkawski, (Received on April 1, 2005, Hiroshima Shudo University Repository)

happy birthday, 1/2 dogen & francis hermitage lineage

Dōgen Zenji (道元禅師; 19 January 1200 – 22 September 1253), also known as Dōgen Kigen (道元希玄), Eihei Dōgen (永平道元), Kōso Jōyō Daishi (高祖承陽大師), or Busshō Dentō Kokushi (仏性伝東国師), was a Japanese Buddhist priest, writer, poet, philosopher, and founder of the Sōtō school of Zen in Japan. (—Wikipedia)
If you cannot find the truth right where you are, where else do you expect to find it? [Dogen] 
Do not fragment your attention but see what each moment calls for. [Dogen] 
Old buddhas and new buddhas reveal their bodies and expound dharma. [Dogen] 
Use your own hands, your own eyes, your own sincerity. [Dogen]

Take continuous care. [Dogen] 
http://oaks.nvg.org/dogen-quotations.html

Thursday, January 18, 2018

prelude to new ethos

1. Challenge:
In the premodern world, ethics received its authority from cosmology. The sacred order of the cosmos dictated the right order of society and the normative virtues for individuals. Each society thought its way of life reflected the universal and sacred natural order of things. With the emergence of the comparative study of cultures, through modern historiography and the social sciences in the nineteenth century, the cosmic world-views of all cultures were relativized. At the same time philosophy, which had already declared its independence from religion, attempted to find a new authoritative ground for ethics in the Enlightenment ideal of a universal rationality independent of any given culture. We now live in a time when this modern attempt is widely viewed as having failed. Indeed, Jean-François Lyotard suggests, in The Postmodern Condition,4 that a key indicator of the emergence of our postmodern situation is the collapse of all metanarratives, whether the ancient cosmic religious stories or modern cosmic stories of universal rationality and scientific progress.

According to the metanarrative of the Enlightenment, in the ancient childhood of the human race people lived by stories (myths), then in the medieval adolescence of the human race, humans embraced rationality (logic and speculative metaphysics). Finally, in the modern adulthood of the human race, humans learned to think for themselves, threw off their childish and adolescent ways and embraced empirical scientific rationality and technological progress. “Man” had “come of age” and no longer needed story – or so the story goes. Contemporary narrative theorists like Stanley Hauerwas 5 and Alasdair MacIntyre 6 have pointed out that even the modern claim of the narrative independence of rationality is dependent on a narrative – the story of the three ages of the human race. They have rightly argued that all rationality is narrative dependent. If this is the case then our postmodern situation is that, on the one hand, our metanarratives (grand stories) have been relativized and, on the other hand, we cannot escape narrative. So with what are we left?

(—from, Teaching Comparative Religious Ethics Online and in the Classroom, Introduction, For the second edition of: Comparative Religious Ethics: A Narrative Approach to Global Ethics, (2011) by Fasching, deChant, Lantigua), Wiley Instructor Companion Site

2. Response:
I would have said, “So what are we left with?” But I suspect, “So with what are we left? is better grammar. Still, the question is good — do we have a story that makes sense today?

I love stories. Here’s what I’m left with: You and I are stories being written. The old stories are there for us to read. The many stories of many people are here for us to listen to. We are left with one another. And what are we? And what are we doing?

My story says we are ever-beginning. You and I, so too our culture, era, and community, come alive to the extent we speak with and listen to one another. Talking about ethics together is part of ever-beginning.

I like the word ethos. The Oxford Dictionary defines it: “The characteristic spirit of a culture, era, or community as manifested in its attitudes and aspirations.”

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

heading out of town

Shared psychosis.

That’s what a psychiatrist said happens to those who get close to someone who is powerful and needy.

Something odd is taking place in Washington DC.

Best to stay away.

Anyway, I’m not that good at sharing.

Tuesday, January 16, 2018

op cit

“Monastics and hippies and poets . . . we’re deliberately irrelevant.” (Thomas Merton)

Anything I could say about Merton’s quote wouldn’t matter.

‘cuse me while I disappear

Friend in Mexico writes chapters of autobiography. Tells of recent gift of wall mirror. Giver wants nothing further to do with him. He wonders why.

It will snow tonight in Maine. I take to bed to rest under congestion and cough in hopes of sleeping it away. A gift a nice lady in narrow office area gave me last week.

It is tiring watching the tedious drama of Washington DC play out in endless scenes of infuriating lack of courage. If missiles fly or palace intrigue beheads unsuspecting necks it seems a natural outcome of current duplicity, pettiness, and embarrassment.

How would you want to study ethics? I would want to learn the fascinating ambiguity of my life. How my being and the manifestation of culture, era, and community all intersect as trampolene springing foreword.

Mirrors reflect what is presented to them. They show what stands behind us. They give a room broader boundaries. We are not meant to occupy a mirror. We either step aside and view what surrounds, or we take a more radical action.

We step into the mirror.

No reflection.

Just disappearance.

Monday, January 15, 2018

when the male in charge is nothing like the one we need

Nietzsche says that opposition is necessary.

If that is true, we have what is necessary.

Opposition seems to be the political weapon of choice.

The content of our character, that which is beyond behavior, is our destiny.

In the United States, on this feast of Martin Luther King, our destiny currently feels to be crude, cynical, and cantankerous.

Help us, O spirit of courage and good words, to find the opposite of our current destiny!

Sunday, January 14, 2018

itinerary

Here comes Monday!

One minute at a time, and it will go by.

Do nothing. Go nowhere.  Love each step!

ontology as erasure

bent back
      new yorker

louis menand
     piece, comment

words of the
     year, 8jan18

“fake” is now
     used to mean

“I deny
     your reality.”

It is a new year,
     a new fear

snow machine and hospice room

night belongs to groomers on mountain

and those that barely breathe in beds —

both laboring for smooth passage, one more

Saturday, January 13, 2018

fond transformation

Where does breath go when it ceases the body?

A woman at Friday evening conversation said it disperses the individual ego and becomes diffuse entropy insinuating itself throughout what has no known boundary.

If so, then, what is it dying individuals see nearing their moment of ceasing breath?

Perhaps the apparition of resembling form suddenly sketched by departing consciousness with brushstroke of  swirling spirit on passing page of fond transformation.

A sumie zen flash of inspired jotting, an ink-wash chiaroscuro of gratitude to guide us beyond.

A touch,

and go!

Friday, January 12, 2018

whenever a casual lie happens

 I’ve looked at the menu.

Not much seems appealing.
When all is said and done, I have more than one face. I don’t know which is laughing at which.  
Love is so excessive a feeling that I prop my head up in my hands. 
Arising from the passions, this realm of dreams isn’t fundamentally a domain of lies. In the end the face is dispersed. In the place where the fabric of things rips open - in the lacerating rip - nothing remains but a person introduced into the fabric’s texture.  
Layers of dead leaves aren’t steps ascending to a throne, and tugboat hoots disperse illusions of enchantment.  
Though still, what would correspond to the magnificence of the world if no one spoke to us and communicated a (no doubt indecipherable) message: ‘As to this fate that befalls you, this fate you consider yours (the fate of the human being you are) or that you consider the destiny of existence generally (of the immensity you form part of), nothing allows you to reduce it to the poverty of things that remain only what they are. On the contrary, whenever a casual lie happens, or whenever something is transfigured, don’t you hear an appeal which must be answered? You can’t claim you wished for the journey, only that you are it. And who would challenge the utter distance, the extremity, the desirability of the way? Desirability?! Am I the measure of mysteries? If, perceiving me, you hadn’t chosen an unreachable goal, you wouldn’t even have approached the mystery!’ 
--Georges Bataille, p95, The text appeared in translation as chapter 5 of the ‘February-April 1944’ section of On Nietzsche , tr. Bruce Boone (Paragon House, New York, 1992), pp. 68-71.https://archive.org/stream/BatailleTheBatailleReader/Bataille%20-%20The%20Bataille%20Reader_djvu.txt 
One mystery we live with is the current president of the United States.

When folks wonder how the people of Germany could have allowed their leader to be so obscene and despicable, they will have to look at a different country currently with blinders about its leader.

Perhaps impotency is the new political chic.

Perhaps decadence is the new patriotism.

It is a meal that turns rancid and unappealing.

I resign from this table.

Check please!

Thursday, January 11, 2018

ayuh

We in Maine feel Haitians and Africans are wonderful people and are welcome here. We also think that the president is mistaken in his attitudes toward those from away. Maine folk would rather sit on their front porch in a -2° blizzard than sit inside listening to dumb ignorance.

the hour is getting late

Where have we gone? We don’t seem to be at home. Certainly not at home with ourselves. More-so, not at home within ourselves. So, where are we? Where have we wandered? Have we gone so far from our true selves that we have become permanent refugees and nomads? Where do we begin to look for this lost and confused expatriate?

Poet Gary Snyder suggests, at end, a task for us these days:
I came back to myself.
To the real work, to
“What is to be done.”
There is a corruption of identity that is profitable to those trafficking in dissemblance and intentional manipulation of ordinary and (perhaps) unaware populations -- (unfortunately, most of us).

Even, and perhaps (sorrowfully) mostly, the leaders of America during this misfortunate time.

I Went into The Maverick Bar  
                        --by Gary Snyder

I went into the Maverick Bar
In Farmington, New Mexico.
And drank double shots of bourbon
backed with beer.
My long hair was tucked up under a cap I’d left the earring in the car.
Two cowboys did horseplay by the pool tables,
A waitress asked us
where are you from? a country-and-western band began to play “We don’t smoke Marijuana in Muskokie” And with the next song, a couple began to dance.
They held each other like in High School dances in the fifties;
I recalled when I worked in the woods
and the bars of Madras, Oregon. That short-haired joy and roughness— America—your stupidity.
I could almost love you again.
We left—onto the freeway shoulders— under the tough old stars—
In the shadow of bluffs
I came back to myself.
To the real work, to
“What is to be done.”
(--from, Not Here YetBY |  Remarks by Gary Snyder on Buddhism, Ecology & the Poetics of Homelessness.     https://www.lionsroar.com/not-here-yet/        
There has been a three-card monte game dealt by sophisticated cons who deceive marks with promises of power while sucking away any residual rights the marks have in the name of bettering their lives and ridding them of others who do not have their interests at heart. It’s a double switch -- take away what is promised to you by giving it to those who are actually taking it away from you.  Enemies are fabricated. Belittling names are manufactured for those enemies. Phony outrage is displayed when anyone questions the cons’ motives or blatant hypocrisy.

It is a shadow of bluffs we are seeing as it envelopes the country.

Perhaps we are merely waking up.

The freeway beckons.

Bob Dylan helps:
“There must be some way out of here,” said the joker to the thief  
“There’s too much confusion, I can’t get no relief  
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth  
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth” 
(--from, All Along The Watchtower WRITTEN BY: BOB DYLAN)  https://www.bobdylan.com/songs/all-along-watchtower/ 
Dylan ends by telling us: “So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late”.

Yeah. 

It is. 

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

dooryard

too tired

to sleep

off road

crossing prayer

before dawn

whispering train whistle

hints at approach

Tuesday, January 09, 2018

as we go by

An old friend’s house

Brief beach walk

Train whistle down hill

Monday, January 08, 2018

solitude empowers

To live a contemplative life is to allow long loving looking.

Just that.

Nothing else.

No-other mind.
In the 20th century, the idea of solitude formed the centre of Hannah Arendt’s thought. A German-Jewish émigré who fled Nazism and found refuge in the United States, Arendt spent much of her life studying the relationship between the individual and the polis. For her, freedom was tethered to both the private sphere – the vita contemplativa – and the public, political sphere – the vita activa. She understood that freedom entailed more than the human capacity to act spontaneously and creatively in public. It also entailed the capacity to think and to judge in private, where solitude empowers the individual to contemplate her actions and develop her conscience, to escape the cacophony of the crowd – to finally hear herself think.
(—from, Before you can be with others, first learn to be alone, by Jennifer Stitt, on Aeon, 11 July 2017).       https://aeon.co/ideas/before-you-can-be-with-others-first-learn-to-be-alone
 I sit with firebox in wohnkuche since 4am watching extra log put in at 3:20am doesn’t exceed its reach. It is a nervous instinct that worries about what to do if chimney fire jumps out of box constraint and screams freedom to a frozen sky. Radio station from Finland automatically goes on at 5am playing classical pieces.

Hot chocolate, oikos yogurt, and raspberry breakfast bar carry me into dawn.

Fresh inch of snow at first light.

Monday looks over mountain.

I suspect if we are to make it through this night, we have to carefully watch what is taking place.

And be ready, when necessary, to open mouth both to say something and partake in communion.