The quiet life.

Grasses bury the river bank,
Rain darkens the village;
The temple is lost in tall bamboo
I can't find the gate.
They're gathering wood and brewing herbs
I'm sorry a monk is sick;
They've swept the ground and burned incense
It cleans my spirit.
Farm work not finished, though we're into Little Snow;
Lamps lit before the Buddha,
Signal of dusk
Lately I've developed a taste for the quiet life.
I think how we could talk together
Through the night.
- Su Tung-p'o (1072)

It cleans my spirit.

We like the thought Jesus resurrected.

It is comforting to think the absurdity and treachery of modern times will not remain the reality once we learn to transcend illusory limitations and include the diversity of difference.

A cold evening in my empty room;
Time flows by like the incense smoke arising.
Outside my door,
A thousand stalks of bamboo,
Above my bed, how many books?
The moon has come to whiten
Half my window,
The only sound in any direction
Is the singing of insects.
In this there is boundless feeling,
But as I encounter it,
There are no words.
- Ryokan

Conveyance.

Think conveyance.

Beyond boundaries.

You are not an effect.

You are the cause of whatever you do next.

Happiness follows this cause .

Questioning God.

Maybe that response is to the question "Is there a God?"

If one can release the mind
That desires merit and fame,
Wealth and distinction,
He will be able to avoid the ordinary.
If one can release the mind
That desires the Way and its virtue,
Humanity and righteousness,
He will, for the first time,
Be able to join the sages.
- Hung Ying-ming

God is what is questioning itself.

Releasing the mind

Dull and slow to believe.

Believe what?

Today is Tuesday.

Let's start there.

Sounds of waking guests and passers through.

Easter Monday Morning Haiku

look -- suffering death
resurrection with new light --
this profound practice

There are no commas between "suffering death resurrection."

One body at a time.

Touched and let go.

Christ rises here!

At end of Vigil/Morning Easter Practice in chapel/zendo, this poem completes our meditation:

Sunrise

You can
die for it–
an idea,
or the world. People

have done so,
brilliantly,
letting
their small bodies be bound

to the stake,
creating
an unforgettable
fury of light. But

this morning,
climbing the familiar hills
in the familiar
fabric of dawn, I thought

of China,
and India
and Europe, and I thought
how the sun

blazes
for everyone just
so joyfully
as it rises

under the lashes
of my own eyes, and I thought
I am so many!
What is my name?

What is the name
of the deep breath I would take
over and over
for all of us? Call it

whatever you want, it is
happiness, it is another one
of the ways to enter
fire.
–Poem by Mary Oliver

Exsultet!

Our present, the gift, is With-Us!

Easter Meditation at Meetingbrook

...

Out of Darkness:

Light, Word, Water, Bread

…………..

We light the candles -- Christ the Light of awakened heart and mind

...

We listen to some stories of how we’ve wandered

...

We invite the water of Life to wash over us and enter us

...

We break bread, remember Christ, eat and become this reality

We take wine, remember Christ, drink and become this reality

...

We reflect on what we long for on this new morning, new day, new life

…

Out of darkness lead us to your light

From illusion, free us for your truth

Still our stormy minds, and

Calm all our striving

Present to us... With Life... Make Us One

(--from denis rackley retreat, 1980)

We begin again.