Saturday, August 21, 2021

go on, ask

 There is suffering

in life, hurt, disappointment —

How we think of God

Is how we think each other

So ask yourself, who is God

Friday, August 20, 2021

unfathomable jaunt there to here

 I used to think God

was all there was. Now I think

God is all here is

follow the thread

 Doc says: sure I’ll cut

you open, sew some stuff, stitch

you up, send you home

sudden breeze through window

 You cannot give me your death.

O Lord, give everyone his own death, 

A death stemming from his own life. 

Rainer Marie Rilke

Nor I give you mine. 

Here’s to your own!

Thursday, August 19, 2021

because I was looking

 hummingbird hovers

at emergency room door

left right up down leaves

Wednesday, August 18, 2021

sanus, sana, sanum

 What keeps me sane? No-

thing. There is no sanity —

We have gone insane


*Priest of nothingness, monk of emptiness. 

This komusō within which and wherein I stand and walk and sip my coffee.

Practicing suizen, blowing air through this physical shakuhachi of lungs and nose, throat and hara.

Jewelweed crop is plentiful. Bees attend their morning liturgy. Sacred buzz-chant ripples out from their offices. An undulating eucharist, as if open field hesychasm in mid-august creating new welcome to all who've abandoned their formal churches for deeper elevations of dirt and soil and earthen resurrection.  

Topsoil gives grass, wildflowers, worms, ants, small frogs and crawling caterpillars. 

 "God is a dirt farmer, not a garden cultivator." (David Roberts, Patheos)

There are days when all man-made creations feel shallow and fallow. Machines, banking systems, automatic weapons, fighter jets, bombers, lawn mowers, cars and trucks, stock markets, public relations firms, cable news outlets, glocks, clocks, and conference rooms.

Then there are days when being a komusō with repetitive om mani padme hum on fingered beads as sole companion feels good enough for now.

Monastic of no other.

Priest of nothingness.

Monk of emptiness.

Hanger of laundry on sunporch.

Feeder of cats in their separate quarters.

Washer of dishes.

Tuesday, August 17, 2021

mendicant crown beads

origin beckons

destination dwelling home

middle — step by step

dory dockside ritual

 penny placed on thwart

under securing line draped

over gunnel green

looking at us

 Bush, Obama, Trump, 

Biden — Afghanistan, war —

This time so awful

Monday, August 16, 2021


 Finished Jayber Crow —

Wendell Berry from ground up

Feeling full feeling

unsatisfying exchange

 War is when we fail

Talking with each other, set

Down words, take up pain

in and out and back

 Pray if you got ‘em!

Military personnel 

Take a break broken

Sunday, August 15, 2021

losing twenty year war

 “Afghanistan is at the end of nowhere.” 

       (Retired General Barry McCaffrey on MSNBC re: the ability of  US sympathizing Afghans to flee the Taliban today overrunning Kabul as compared to Vietnamese fleeing Saigon by sea in 1975)

an uncaptured eventuality

Thought is, as yet, elusive.  


 They’re alone at the fountain, in a dark well.

They’ve been exiled by the world of hope,

which is the world of action,

but the world of thought hasn’t as yet opened to them.

When it does, everything will change.

(—Excerpt from: "A Village Life: Poems" by Louise Glück. Scribd)


For us, to think, is to become an uncaptured eventuality lingering just outside the circumference of campfire light in a dark unseeing that nears and enthralls.

regaled and astonished by the possible in our surround and imagination.

The astrophysicist gives the example of an ant watching a sheet of paper disappear.

It had been on a two dimension surface of desk when a human lifted it up to be placed into a third dimension paper holder extending upward from the desk. To the ant it simply disappears, having no reference to a height in its length and width world.

Today is the feast of the Assumption of Mary into “heaven.”

Not even time, the fourth dimension, comes close to explaining her disappearance into some heavenly dimension we have no capacity to detect or understand.

Neil deGrasse Tyson, like some modern day evangelist for planetary scientific description, tells us about the universe with grace, wit, and clear examples, enjoying the story-telling and narrative excitement of emerging human knowledge and discovery.

Today we say Hello Mary in a new way.

The world has not yet yielded, with grace and wit, all its theoretical manifestations and dimensional mysteries.

And yet, here we remain, regaled and astonished by the possible in our surround and imagination.