Delightful: Sharing

Okay, I know I said I was taking a break, but I just couldn’t resist inserting this one in, as it just came to me all at once and I had to write it down.

Delightful: Sharing

Finally, a lazy day,
Sipping coffee
And shooting the breeze,
That’s all the yuletide
I’m going to get,

But that’s enough for me,
And I know
Some would envy this,
A break from all the hype;

What’s it like to run around
Trying to please the kids?
I’ve never known,
As I have none;

It’s a day of rest for me,
Well, that is,
Until I go to work,
As I will later,

Because it’s an opportunity
To be there for others,
To celebrate with them
Or to comfort them,

If their plans went splat
Or they had no plans,
Or they’ve no one to be with
At this supposed-to-be happy time.


May all beings be happy, peaceful and well!

Thanks for reading!

Lee

Deliberation: Reflecting on Wisdom

It’s time again now for me to take a break until the New Year.

In the meantime, I will leave you with this thought:

I think that one way to look at wisdom could be to say that it is like the ability to discern when it is most skillful to see a coin as a unified whole, when it is most skillful to see it as having two different sides; or even both or neither, or none of the above!


Much metta to all!

Thanks for reading!

Lee

Deliberate: Folding life into Practice

A frosty grocery-shopping trip,
Loaded up packages and tins,
Bags and boxes
Toted through the chilly air,
Cart flying down the street,

Happily arriving home and unpacking,
Enjoying a piping hot cup of tea
And drinking it mindfully,
Settling in for a quiet evening
Of listening to audio talks and reflecting;

Supper’s ready in the fridge,
Cold left-overs from
Last night’s cooking frenzy,
Macaroni and cheese
With lots of vegetables;

These simple activities
Are my practice these days,
No fancy projects,
Nor life changing goals,
Just everyday tasks;

This is where the real practice lives,
The place where the mundane rubber
Meets the ordinary dirt road,
Rain or shine, mud or dust,
ruts and all,

Over a simple track
The cart rolls,
And though the wheels
Are frequently squeaky,
And the joints of the puller often creaky,

Somehow the groceries always get home,
The tea gets made,
The supper prepared,
Then onto the plate or into the bowl.

Deflection: Immersion in the Moment

Pain in the toe joints again,
Had a hot bath
And let go into it,
Noticing what transpired:

Many memories of other baths
And other times
Emerged and danced
And played about merrily;

Wiggled the toes,
Rotated the ankles,
Stretched the legs
And appreciated the results;

Felt like I’d been here
For an eternity,
Seen and done all this before
Though not from the same perspective;

Not sure what this meant,
But was intriguing
And entertaining
To so reflect;

Perhaps twas only
The soothing hot water
Or the sheer pleasure
Of weightless motion;

Either way,
A pleasant
And simple method
Of enjoying the moment;

Just the agreeable feel
Of the warmth of the water
And the gentle easy
Movement through it
Of the limbs of the body.

Deflated: The Crux of a Conundrum

This marvelous awareness,
This sweet attention
From whose impermanence or fluctuation?
From this perception or point of view
There is some looking out, but by whom?

This is the puzzle,
What keeps repeating
Like a radio signal,
Itself a wave form
That travels as it vibrates?

And so we too travel and tremble,
Colliding with other waves
And yet for a while seemingly
Maintaining our integrity,
Though transformed by each encounter;

Then what are we?
The pattern seems to repeat,
Is changed yet unchanged,
Or so it appears to me,
This impermanent permanence,

Hence the idea of impermanence by itself
Does not seem to impress me much,
Nor help much neither
But only confuse,
As what goes away seems to come back,

And this seems especially true
Of those patterns
I’d rather be free of,
Those unhappy arisings
That never really seem to go away;

They always seem to be
At least potentially there,
Or is the cause merely a habit of looking,
Of searching for something familiar?

Definitive: Change and Interchange

Life is extraordinary,
So here and not here,
Tis a wave form,
A palette of colourful zeros and ones,

But awareness of it all,
Where does that come from?
And how can what is be made,
From furniture to electronics,
When everything is in flux?

And based upon what,
When our very awareness is intermittent,
But a wave that rises and falls,
Top to bottom, until it’s gone?
And where to then?

Then again, awareness is
Also connected to whatever else is,
So even though temporary, intermittent, up and down,
However one phrases it,
Functions within the larger function or pattern;

And so, they go together
And come and go together,
Thus one is able to influence the other,
As they are not separate,
But who is doing it?

We seem to be free and not free,
Here and not here,
Temporary and persistent
But where do we go
When this fragile shell goes?

Is this transient material casing
Necessary for what we know?
Or is it simply a matter of
Coming from within this temporary attention
That makes us think, ‘this is me’?

Definition: In Focus

Something changed,
Sank deeply in,
That seems so simple
Nevertheless difficult
To fathom totally,

It’s so little
But so important,
Yet only this:
That we don’t always get what we want
Nor is getting it always best,

That thinking we should
Is foolishness;
Life is not like that
It’s like it is,
Which is unreliable,

It’s like a zebra,
An untamable creature,
Not subject to
Our commands
Or whims,

For which, I’d say
We ought to be thankful!
For given
The nature
Of some of our desires

How awful if every one
Were to come true!
And so we learn
From experience
What life is as it is,

And from this wisdom learn to
Accept what comes more easily,
And accept what goes
When it goes.

Definitely: Gathering Steam

Oh!
My arthritic aching big toes!
As I rub them, one at a time, I think
‘May this practice bring relief
To all beings so distressed.’

I dispatch metta
To all beings
Over and over again,
And a bliss and a smile
Break out all over,

And then I ponder on
How happiness only
Seems to come
In these spare moments
Without tasks to do,

But then correct myself,
Remembering times when
Joy infused my duties too,
Though it was not
Without great effort;

So then,
Perhaps in time
I will find a way
As other people do,
Or so I’ve heard,

Meanwhile,
I stumble on,
Looking for
My way,
Whatever that may be,

Like the seekers of this dark season,
Gather to wait
For the pending return of the sun
(Or the son, as the case may be).

Definitive: Mundane and Infinite

The seeking and carting continues
But shopping fatigue inevitably sets in,
Time to pause and finish up
Some end-of-year matters;

Meanwhile meditation practice unfolds simply,
As breathing, metta
And spaciousness of attention
Punctuate the early-darkened evenings,

Ready to go
Brings letting go,
Leading to
Joyful tranquil intervals;

Reading and reflecting
Upon commentaries
And passages from suttas
Also gives rise to peace and awe,

As the mundane wonder
Of what is
Reveals itself
Again and again;

In the twilight of the year
As we approach
The space between
One calendar and the next,

How appropriate
To contemplate
Upon the ultimate
Whatever that may be!

I don’t think
“I” will ever understand it,
Though “not-one—not-two”
May perhaps do so.

Defiant: Surging Forward

Frenzied activity,
Hitting the shops once more
As the big decision-making continues,
Looking at prices once again,

Adding up the difference
Between one option and another,
Trying to make the best deal
Under the circumstances,

Scurrying dances across the tile floor,
Searching for boots,
But not finding anything
That fits!

Asking questions
About electronic devices,
Checking out the merchandise,
Opening this and unzipping that,

Thinking of buying a new knapsack
As the old ones are falling apart,
And I have to carry
Many things with me on my back,

But finally settled on
A small electronic gadget,
Until the next items come on sale,
Have to return tomorrow for another round,

Luckily the weather has held
So the long walk will be completed
In relative comfort,
Though the parcels may weigh heavily,

Do I get a cab?
Or try to drag it all home
On my own?
I’ll have to wait and see
How much I have to tote.

Deferment: Unproductive

Went to sleep to
Letting go
But woke up to clinging
And frustration,

More brooding on
The current situation
And trouble decision-making
On what steps need to be taken;

Tried counting the breathing,
But could not stay with that even,
Caught up in confusion
Punctuated by irritation,

Not seeing much use
In anything
And rolling up and down
In wave after wave of disbelieving,

Wasting time wondering
How what is could be,
Instead of seeking
Some ease in what is,

Feeling foolish in retrospect,
But not finding a solution
To this repetitive outpouring of emotion,
A dull and pointless occupation,

And the mistake repeats!
Why can’t I learn from this
And move on
To something more productive?

What is it about this ruminating
That is so seductive and addictive?
Could it be because there’s such energy in it?
If only I could harness that!

Deference: Acceding to the Flow

Difficult meditation,
Couldn’t seem to focus
Having lost my motivation,
Reluctant to see what was happening,

Tried counting breaths
And for an interval succeeded,
Then drifted off into oblivion
Subsequently finding what was needed,

The mind redirected
To a new object of attention:
The sounds in the room
As they wavered up and down;

I noticed the hum
Of the heating system,
How it varied,
Wave after wave,

Then there were the cycling sounds
Of the refrigerator,
As it regulated
Its internal temperature,

The siren of a fire engine
Passing on the street outside
Punctuated the ensemble,
Rising and fading amidst the machine rumbles,

In addition there was the hissing
Of the gas fire
In my host’s front room,
(Where this group meditation took place),

And finally there were
The sounds of joints crackling
From the minor movements of sitters’ bodies
Seeking more comfortable positions
During this forty-five minute long session.

Defensible: A Safe Pause

Hot herb tea
On a cold day,
A simple way
To bring ease
To a worn out body and mind;

Hot water
Melts away the chill
And fragrant spices and herbs
Envelop the senses,
Soothing and invigorating;

A gentle flavour
And time to savour it,
Relaxing with some audioplays
While sipping slowly away
At the end of a busy day;

Tis the best of times,
Stirring memories of past teas,
Connecting one mug
To the previous one
And this one to the next;

Mining deeply
The dark hot brew,
Dropping slowly down
Into a peaceful quiet,
A break from life’s incessant riot;

Listening to the sounds around,
Glorying in the leisure
Whose transience only
Makes it more precious,
And the tea extra delicious;

Finding moments within moments
Of delightful repose,
Laughing admiringly at the snow
As I watch it fall and blow outside my window.

Defect: Technological Changeover

Bursting with energy
From a chocolate charged
Holiday feast,
A seasonal surge;

Shopping for replacements
Rather than presents,
As budgeting concerns
Override flashy ads for frivolous trinkets,

Complex electronics
Reveal hidden price tags,
As incompatibility
With older devices increases costs,

Hence, one purchase
Requires another,
In order to make
The first one work,

Difficult decision:
Return new product or buy one more,
Decided to splurge,
As haven’t done so for two years,

And about time I concluded,
To replace the old
And bring in the new,
A lesson in impermanence,

As everything goes
In the end,
One appliance
Gets changed for another,

In the name of advancement, or so it’s said,
But a cynic might reflect
It’s merely free market economics,
I was quite happy with what I had,
But now have to settle for improvements instead!

Default: Endless Trek

Busy, busy again,
So much to ponder and consider,
Thinking about the future
And where I should be aiming for,

Not sure what direction makes sense
Nor what position
I should be taking
On it,

The aftereffects of
So many years of striving
And lean living,
Make decision-making challenging.

Where to go from here?
Is there a place
That’s any better,
Or is it just this?

There are always these two levels
Of interpenetrating reality,
But how do they go together?
I’m having such trouble getting that!

(Sigh) So much to do
And I’m so tired of trying,
Why it’s a great big mountain
I’ve been climbing!

Or is it something else
That I just can’t see clearly,
And how can I get a good look?
My eyes are so bleary,

I appear to be no further ahead,
As there still looks to be
The same number of questions,
And no sure answers.

Defamatory: Deafening Rumpus

Bad news
Split the air again like cannon fire,
Making a mess of
Thoughts and emotions;

Protests of unfairness booming out everywhere,
Accompanied by perceived cracks of thoughtlessness,
Hearing it popping all around
And tired of enduring this regular disturbance,

Stared into space for a while,
Resembled concentration practice,
But probably not
The best kind,

Subsequently restlessness took over
And forgetting for a time,
But then remembered
And started fuming all over,

Simmering like a pot on a hot stove,
Flustered and blustering,
Trying to muster some positive action
To counteract this negative distraction,

Finally settled on
More laundry
And cleaning up
The kitchen,

After stowing some clean laundry,
As was straightening up
Found some good news
That I’d gathered

About helpful vitamin D;
Resolved to get some of that
And see what good (if any)
That could do me!

De Facto: Feeling So Fortunate

This awful influenza,
The first one I’ve endured
Since I began this most recent
Mindfulness trek,

But feeling so fortunate
To have fruit to eat,
As it’s the only thing
My stomach will tolerate,

Juicy tangerine,
Soft banana,
Hard plumb,
So sweet and enjoyable,

Refreshing and energizing,
My body and mind
So grateful to receive
Such treats,

A welcome change
From the usual heavy fare
Of bowl after bowl
Of assorted stews,

My simple home-cooked diet
Livened up for the occasion,
No take out around here,
And such variety is rare,

So for tonight
This is fast food delight,
No dishes to scrub,
And no pots neither,

A change like this
Is long overdue,
And so timely too
While I’m recovering from
This nasty flu.

Deep-Seated: Out from under the Pillow

Horrible night,
Barely slept,
Anger and irritability,
Delusion and doubt,

A layer of futility and disgust
Covers everything
But then during meditation, thought,
‘This sitting is my answer,’

‘Attending to,
Just this,’
And yet distraction set in,
Awareness got lost once more,

Until,
Just before sleep,
As I lay waiting
To drift off,

I noticed confusion,
And from this energetic state
Emerged strong presence
And discovery,

For there I saw,
There was no clinging occurring,
What a startling find!
How did that happen?

Where was my attention
On this occasion?
How could I have gone
And missed out on such an important event?

'Oh well,' I thought, 'here it is now,
To marvel at
And enjoy
For as long as it persists.'

Deeply: Reaching Forward, Reaching Back

This day again was tough
But less so than yesterday,
Maybe finally the virus
Has had enough of me;

I surely won’t miss
All this nose blowing
And coughing,
Nor the long hours abed;

Rallied today somewhat
And caught up with some tasks,
Twas such a relief
To finally be back on my feet;

So many duties neglected
Due to this latest illness;
These setbacks have been coming so often
Tis one of those years I guess,

But no time for tears or regrets,
Have to go forward
And see what’s up next,
Embracing the unreliable,

Sometimes it’s more excitement
Than I can handle comfortably
But lessons learned
Every time,

Another mountain climbed,
Another victory celebration,
To have gotten through
This latest challenge,

Ah but, it’s not over yet,
Too early to tell
If or even when the flag
Will be planted.

Deep: Diving for Relief

Well the respiratory infection
Or its aftermath
Continues to impose its misery
Upon this mind and body,

Slowing down everything,
Making mincemeat of any plans
Sabotaging every step,
Making my stomach refuse much food,

Doing nothing for my mood,
Which is down and sour,
Well beyond meditation power
Though the metta feels safe,

Also I imagine
Pleasant places I’ve been
While I wait to heal,
And hope to soon have a complete meal.

Getting little done
Except groaning,
All is a struggle
But lying around a bore,

Coughing and nose blowing
Are my main occupations,
Along with dreaming
Of old haunts calling to me:

Sitting in a backyard,
Watching the tomato plants grow
On a hot summer’s morning,
Enjoying the view

And from somewhere in my mind
The plants say,
“We remember you,”
And I feel supported somehow.

Deductions: Seeking Understanding

Overwhelming fatigue,
How long will this
Latest recovery be?

I hate this waiting game,
Sleeping off and on all day,
Dragging through my tasks,
Feels like climbing Mount Everest,

Luckily have time to rest
And a place to do it,
How fortunate!

Pushing forward
Through the groggy mist,
Trying to keep going
No matter what the test;

Mindfulness is tough
When I can barely lift my head,
Persistently I did metta from my bed
Attempting to dream up some happiness and vigour.

Towards the evening I rallied,
And though my appetite was still poor
I ate fairly well,
Telling myself this is just a temporary spell.

Determinedly I take another step
And follow that with more of the same,
Not sure what’s to gain
But no energy to consider such aims;

Sometimes I think these days are the best
As there’s no energy left for anything but doing,
The mind gets a rest
From all the extra thinking,
And for all I know
That’s the point,
The actual link.

Deduct: Knocking It Off

Okay, so my digestive system is still tied up in knots and the rage-mobile has been going full tilt all day, and I fell to reflecting on whether, if my gut could talk, it might complain to the kidneys about the lack of water coming its way, which is stopping it up, as in,

“The plumbing in this place is rubbish! The water supply keeps getting cut off and I just don’t get it.” Or so it complains to the kidneys.

And the kidneys are saying, “give us a break, we’ve got this virus to get rid of!”

And the gut’s reply is, “Oh, yeah right, like I believe that. Every five minutes you’ve got a new excuse. Last time it was the weather, before that another cold, before that it was the shingles, then it was stomach flu, and on an on.”

And so it goes. Meanwhile I’m too nauseous to eat, and so tired I can barely move, etc., you get the idea.

I’ve also been having these wonderful reflections on all the good times there have been, sitting in the yard (back when I had access to one) watching the tomato plants grow and listening to the song birds and the wind in the trees on warm summer mornings and hot evenings. Then there were the night crickets and the night crawlers stirring in the bedewed grass. And in even younger years there was tree-climbing and playing cops and robbers—yes, I’m old enough to remember that era, before all the computer games took over in this locality.

Now, it’s all about kids’ obesity, because instead of running around chasing each other, people are all sitting at home eating munchies and hiding in their abodes. I hear people say, “oh, it’s way too dangerous out there for kids,” which sounds pretty strange given what’s going on, on the Internet these days, and my memories of romping around by myself at the age of seven, all over the neighbourhood, where ever-vigilant adult eyes and ears watched over us every step of the way. Oh well, every era has it’s dragons; this one’s just the same.

Ah, ruminating mindlessly, so that’s what that’s like!

Except now I know.

Dedicated: Finding My Footing

Oh drat!
I’m late
I’ve gotten out of
The writing habit,

And meditation too
Has taken
A back seat due
To this wretched cold,

My stomach is erupting
And grumping
From fever and
A multiplicity of remedies,

Hence I rested it
Afternoon and evening
And only just
Had a salmon sandwich,

This day has been
Full of speculations,
But did contain
One good session
Based on a CD of guided meditations
By Shinzen Young,*

Which led me from a cauldron of rage
Into strengths I knew not of
And to solutions I’ve already pursued
And yet knew not or had simply forgotten;

Not letting anything ruin anything,
This shall be my goal,
Recalling to mind again and again that
Within each moment the potential for
Peace and happiness is always present
Shall be my guiding principle.



_______________
Break through difficult emotions, Sounds True 1997.

Decrepit: Needing Down Time

Fading in and out,
Bad head cold:
High fever,
Hacking away and sneezing
And nursing a burning throat;

Tried to sit
With concentration,
But barely made
Seven minutes
Before exhaustion ended that;

Checking temperature
And trying to cool off
All day,
What a way to spend it;
Time slowed to a creep,

Napping and waking,
Counting breaths
And doing metta,
Drowsily;
Consciousness came and went,

Then suddenly
11 pm came around,
What a surprise!
Where was “I”
During this event?

Where does “me” go
When the fatigue sets in?
Feeling good not moving;
Getting up sets me
To coughing heavily;

Mind so fuzzy,
Fingers so clumsy,
Have to rest again.

Decree: And so it is

Saw “not yours”
And letting go,
Streaming out
And floating away,

Fading into
The mental distance,
Trying to keep this in mind,
As every time ‘tis just what I need;

Stop talking about
Blizzards of emotion
And torrents of thought,
Have to let it fly by

In time will get used to it
Coming up, letting go and drifting off,
So it does not distract me
From other things,
As it frequently now does;

But now mind all over the place,
Need mindlessness for a time,
Intentional distraction
So I don’t get lost in anguish,

Really frustrating,
Tried to notice what that felt like,
At first just raised more anger,
‘what’s the point of noticing,
As so what else is new?’

I feel like it’s all about
Killing time until the bell goes,
Just waiting, really boring and tedious,
But noticing posture re-energized me,
As that’s where the ease was.
Turned to counting breaths then,
Building concentration.

Decrease: Strewn*

A day of small pleasures,
As the coffee tasted heavenly,
And the noodle and vegetable stew
Rapturously delicious!

Other than that,
It was like a trap
An endless cage,
A dreary, drab drag!

Not feeling like
Doing anything,
Nowhere I wanted
To go,

Hung around home,
Moping and complaining;
What foolishness!
But fatigue won this round,

As had slept so badly,
Even worse than before;
Not sure what’s next
But suspicions reign supreme,

Full of doubts and questioning,
Uncertain and apprehensive,
Serious one minute,
And laughing the next;

What a peculiar series,
And meditation even more so:
Ended up silently reciting the multiplication table,
My idea of concentration practice,
Or so I guess,
Oh well, I did my best!


*Today’s entry will be the last UNTIL December, as tomorrow I start an insight meditation course, and I really want to focus on that.

Thank you for reading!

Lee

Decoy: Grab and Let Go

Meditation absorption,
As phenomena arising
Streamed outward
In the mind’s eye,

As if responding to
The, “not yours,” strategy,
Drifted off like clouds
But shrank as it departed,

Off to the horizon it flowed
Until naught remained,
And the process
Repeated over and over again,

But then,
Some difficult pain
Gave rise to great frustration
And distraction set in,

Tried to notice how that felt
But at first just inflated irritation
Into angry thinking,
‘What’s the point of noticing this!’

Feeling it’s all about killing time
Until the bell goes,
Just waiting,
Really frustrating and tedious,

Also itching, how annoying!
But then suddenly noticed posture
And minimal pain
Aback the shoulders,

As had quit ‘trying’ to sit up straight
Due to preoccupation with discomfort;
Then counting breaths created suitable diversion.
I guess this sit was indeed partially about,
‘What do I do in this situation?’

Dealing: Plodding Along

Dreadful night,
Slept poorly,
Woke up early with splitting headache
But too tired to get out of bed,

Gloomy and fatigued
And not wanting to move,
But always lots to do
And no one else to do it!

So up I got
And set to work,
Coffee in the cup,
Breakfast in process,

Then the phone rang,
Someone wanting to talk,
‘Shall I answer it?
Guess I’d better.’

Nothing urgent,
Just an apology
For something
I’d forgotten already,

Nevertheless,
Felt better for it,
Could not have come
At a better time either,

But still an up and down day,
Somehow made it
Through required tasks,
That at least is something,

As some days just have to keep
Putting one foot in front of the other,
Not sure why has always been so,
But only way I know
How to learn to walk!

Dazzling: A Worthwhile Effort

Weather warm-up coming soon
Triggered pre-migraine munchies,
But meditation on track,
Following the breathing
And letting go,

Seeing clearly
What is not mine,
And marveling at everything,
All patterns inside and out;

Sense of freedom grew
And equanimity bloomed,
But not for long
As fatigue set in,

Nevertheless, remembered that
All effort brings benefit,
And this motivated further exertion
Which generated more mindfulness,

Just as yesterday’s actions
Brought today’s observations,
So today’s positive actions
Pave the way for better results,

It’s vital therefore
To continue building on the practice,
Breath by breath the attention expands,
Opening possibilities and generating confidence,

Even weariness presents an opportunity
To examine this feeling,
And the sensations that
Go with it,

Directing the attention
To the resting
And noticing what that’s like,
On this autumn night.

Dawning: The Sky Lightens

Another dismal forecast,
With the rain teeming,
And the streets streaming
But in keeping with the arising mood;

All set to spend an evening
Grumbling, moping and steaming,
When received a phone call invitation
To attend a group meditation,

And with little hesitation,
Accepted the offer of a drive
To the location,
And readied to leave for the destination;

Prepared and ate a quick snack
Gathered up the cushion stack,
And bagged it,
Shouldered the backpack and departed,

Leaving behind the darkness
For the light of dharma fellowship,
The downpour de-centered,
The gloominess tempered;

Then shortly after arrival
The sitting commenced,
Upright stillness
Silent mindfulness,

And afterwards,
Sharing and reflecting
Upon practice notes
And experiences;

All left little doubt
Of the value of
The practice,
And the decision
To participate.

Darkening: Going Sideways

Energy stoked up after
Application of my meditation strategy,
And carried it on
Into daily life,

But later in the day
Worn out and sleepy,
From the effort?
Or something else?

Never know what
To expect,
Every day’s different,
Every meditation too;

Always travelling,
So much to see,
Never stopping,
Only resting in movement,

Up the mountain
And over the peak,
Down into the valley,
Immersed in green,

Traversing the wilderness,
Getting entangled in thickets,
Sky barely visible
Through the branches and vines,

Know the next mountain’s
Out there,
But struggling to
Keep up the pace,

Darkness sets in
And set camp for the night,
Pitching the tent
In the shadows cast by the firelight.

Daring: Trying a New Approach

As I waited by the gate
For someone who knows
How to open it,
I prepared to sit,

And as I did,
Tore up all the ladders
And from these parts
Constructed a new one:

Breathing in,
“Whatever is not yours. . .”
Breathing out,
“Let go of it, . . .”
And in the space between out and in,
“Your letting go of it will be
for your long-term happiness and benefit” (Majhima Nikaya 22).

Continuing until the last line of the passage,
“Your letting go of it will be
for your long-term happiness and benefit.”
Then let go of these words too
And staying with the breathing,
Observed it,

But whenever a thought, feeling or sensation
Began to pull the mind away:
Breathing in,
“This is not yours,”
Breathing out,
“Let go of it . . .”
And in the space between out and in,
“Your letting go of it will be
for your long-term happiness and benefit.”

Continued acknowledging these diverse processes
And yet resting in awareness
Of the breathing,
Until the end of the meditation.

Dangling: Hanging Around

I went out and thought
I’d lost my method,
But came home and found it
Right where I’d left it!

Like confusing the ladder
With the climbing,
Getting stuck on the ladder
And abandoning it,

Picking up its mate
And getting caught on that too,
Tossing that one down
And beginning anew;

How can one possibly
Get over this fence,
When every ladder fails?
This just doesn’t make sense.

Starting over and over,
Then finally ditching
All of them
And stomping off in a fury,

Concluding, I’ll be going nowhere in a hurry!
And so quietly I wait,
Hoping for someone to come along who knows
How to open the gate!

Nevertheless, in the meantime
I prepared for more practice,
Not expecting anything
Other than just sitting;

On the other hand,
Perhaps it’s time
To return attention to the breathing;
As there’s no other guide here now,
I guess it’s up to me, then.

Dancing: Taming Mind-Cats

Carrying on
The recurring theme
Sitting mindfully,
And letting go of clinging,

Very effective for taming
Disturbing emotions,
Which roar like lions
And snap and claw fiercely,

For upon the application
Of the simple formula
Of naming these big cats,
And recognizing them as not belonging to me,

Their thundering growls
Dissolve like melting marshmallows
In a cup of hot chocolate,
And they depart, purring like kittens,

But soon new ferocious visitors arise
And more labeling follows,
The letting go is repeated,
The menagerie gradually defeated;

Thoughts, feelings, sensations,
Flow softly then,
From the lion’s den,
Which is quiet again,

The cats have et their fill,
And are sleeping now,
At peace for a time
Until the bell chimes,

Waking the resting mind,
To rise up once again,
But even then met only with the gentle refrain,
‘Not me, not mine.’

Dance: Letting Go Waltz

Continuing with
The letting go,
Carrying it through
Daily life;

Reaching deeply
Into peace,
And even further
To the depths of relaxation,

But even these
Do not belong to me,
And letting go of them
Left a quiet mind,

Classified this quiet too
As, ‘not mine,’
And letting go of that
Led to something I cannot describe.

Then at that moment
The telephone rang,
Decided to answer it
As I’d gotten behind;

Had a conversation
Unlike any I can recall,
Such clarity of mind,
Strong awareness of the other,

Subtleties in the sound of voice,
Nuances of expression,
All were more visible,
And responsiveness heightened;

Nevertheless still mindful enough
To know when to end
And re-orient the mind
In the direction
Of other tasks requiring attention.

Daily: A Regular Routine

Clinging again,
Ah, recurring theme!
Keep coming back to,
A well-trod road;

More cold misery,
More letting go,
Emotional blizzard,
Let it pass through,

Practicing non-attachment
And getting unstuck;
Such hard work,
Seems an endless trek,

Easy to see how
Some could spend
All their lives
Focusing on nothing but,

Seeking a place
With but few distractions
To pursue this course,
For as long as suffering recurs,

It’s so simple
But so time consuming,
Does it ever end?
Or are these promises only?

Then directed myself
To let go of this too
And return to my activity
Of letting go,

Even letting go of
Letting go,
That’s what’s next,
And after that peacefulness,
And some well-earned rest.

Daft: Mind Banter

Scattered mind,
All over the place,
Can’t stay focused,
Can’t stay still,

Restlessness and aversion,
Fretting and clinging
And feeling so ill,
Such heat and chill,

Bad cold gone worse,
Sapping energy,
Making every task
A sniffling chore;

Meditation so difficult to do
When the mind is preoccupied,
And the body is unwell,
I could hardly wait for the bell!

Then went on with
Other jobs,
But it was mostly
A poorly remembered blah, blah,

Head full of cotton,
Migraine confusion and pain,
Forgot what I was doing
And was late completing everything;

Late going to bed,
Late getting to sleep,
Too many cold remedies,
Too many awakenings;

Distressing, certainly, dreadful even,
How to stop clinging to this?
Well, surprisingly easily!
How accomplished?
Not sure really!

Dabbling: Reflections on Clinging

Thinking of clinging
And not clinging,
Wondering what difference
There would be
Without it,

Looking ahead,
Seeing a cycle of
Clinging and release,
Attaching to and letting go,

And wondering where
That would lead,
Or whether it
Just keeps on going,

What would life be like
Outside of this?
Is there any outside?
How to decide what to do?

Perhaps there’s
Really no difference,
Life would just continue
On the way it is,

Maybe the only change
Is just lack of suffering,
Life merely proceeds
As it would have done,

If so, what are the implications?
What about choice?
How does that figure in?
Aren’t choices based on perception too?

What we think we can do,
And the options that we have
Based on what we’ve seen and where we’ve been?
And if so, then what?

Cynicism: From a Certain Point of View

Sometimes I feel
I dwell in the inside
Of the outside,
And the outside
Of the inside;

Perhaps it happened by accident,
Or was conditioned
And then became a habit,
Either way the mind resists
Any attempt to pull it anywhere else,
Refuses all invitations
To join in;

From here is a certain view
From there is a certain view,
No one else can take this view
Nor can I take that one,
Or so the mind thinks,

And there’s a sadness
From such a perspective too,
Coming from either direction,
For then we’re all alone, you see,
In our little boats
Upon the sea,

And yet, all together,
Floating home,
Or to whatever version
We think we see,

All the different versions
May be freedom,
Or may not,
Depending on the spot,
Or may seem to be free or not,
Depending on our standpoint,
Regardless of the land-point,
If there is one!

Cylinder: Floating Homeward

Clinging,
The recurring theme,
Examining and reflecting
Upon the finer points,

Like clinging as
Anticipation or expectation,
Then suddenly noticed
Sore throat,

‘Getting a cold,’
Is what occurred to me,
But then recognized that
What I have is a sore throat,

Ah! Expectation
Pulled me away from
What’s happening now,
Getting ahead of things,

And yet tis not
The expectation either,
But the clinging to it
That knocked me off course.

Carefully, I reset my course,
Orienting the rudder
Of my boat
In the direction pointing to here,

But then letting go of
The pointing as well
And the direction too,
And letting the boat go.

Seeing how difficult this is
I get stuck on difficulty,
Letting go of difficulty,
I then get stuck on letting go,
And on and on, towards the horizon.

Cyclone: Quelle Différence

Nothing like
A cup of tea
At the end
Of a long day,

Especially when has
Muscles on it,
Amazingly refreshing
And so uncomplicated,

Particularly on such a
Different day,
One full of surprises,
And unpleasant demises:

First course,
Banana and peanut butter sandwich,
Followed by
Some sardine chowder,

With stacks of grief
And misery
On the side,
And then in peace I did abide,

But only a temporarily dose,
As too full already
From the third course,
So how much good did it me?

Can I ever really be free?
And how could I tell?
Or, would I simply disappear
Or dissolve into fear?

What next will appear?
Will the way ever be clear?
When will I stop asking
Silly questions,
Or, have I only yet to find the best ones?

Customary: À la Carte

Grocery shopping already,
Getting it done
Ahead of the increasing humidity
In the face of reduced lucidity,
As fatigue has decreased my mindfulness,

And in spite of best efforts,
Forgot to add some items
To the list,
But managed to remember in-store anyhow.

Affordable citrus in short supply,
Considered buying limes instead
But managed a clever compromise,
And decided to get some oranges;

Bananas on sale
To satisfy my sweet tooth
Which has been raging
Of late,

Replacing the diet ginger ale
That’s now priced outside
My current budget,
Having gone up 47%!

It’s just like the old days
When our ancestors quested for foodstuffs
And had to take
Whatever presented itself to them;

This is surely
Living in the present moment,
To have to be so constantly cognizant
Of basic needs,

No fancy cuisine,
Just simple fare,
But at least served up
With some time to savour it!

Custom: The Usual Fare

Bits and pieces,
Snatches of thought,
Unable to focus
Or get a hold of it,

A mind in chaos,
Far too busy,
Bursting with jet fuel
But so unruly;

Feeling tired
And getting sleepy,
So much to do,
And so little energy,

Aching all over
From the humid weather,
Dampness sinks me
Into the mattress;

At the end of the day
It’s all about food:
Thinking about it
And preparing it,

Now all I need
Is someone else to cook it,
Today I wouldn’t mind
A helper if I could book one,

But staying with the body
Got the job done,
Back to relaxing
When I’m not stretching,

Limbering up
Reduces the discomfort,
Brings the mood back up
And focuses the mind for useful work.

Custody: Preserving the Peace

A whirlwind day
Of a whirlwind week,
Trying to keep up
While retaining a sense of peace;

Flowing forward
From one task to another,
But attempting productivity
While minimizing stress;

Aiming for the balance
Between relaxed and alert,
Between activated and steady,
Agitation and calm;

Staying with the body
Whenever I can,
Letting it be my anchor,
Without holding on,

Dwelling in the present moment,
Without anticipation,
But how to do that
And still be prepared?

I still don’t get it,
How to do both of these:
Getting ready for what’s next
And just being here;

Sometimes living is
Such a scramble,
And I can’t seem to figure
How to stay in balance;

What do I do when
Every endeavour splits these two,
When it somehow seems
Equilibrium is always
Eventually fractured by the effort.

Custodian: Taking Care

Disturbing emotions
Came calling,
And I found them involving
Producing much distress and aversion,

But then I recalled
The body,
And redirecting my attention,
Centred it there.

Exploring this experience,
This embodiment,
Noticing what it’s like
From the inside out:

Stability and calm,
Quietly purring along,
The body didn’t mind
But continued on course,

Digesting food,
Breathing and pumping,
Circulating blood,
Performing innumerable functions,

Meanwhile,
Where’d the emotions go?
What happened to the upset?
There was no trace of it!

Twas completely quiescent,
As if the agitated mind
Had been pulled into step
With bodily rhythms;

Just moments before
Where a tempest had roiled,
All turmoil stilled,
No fury, no worry
And no hurry either.

Cushioned: Resilience

After a few
Precious moments of
Serenity sublime,
There ensued a most difficult time:

Intense dread,
As if in reaction to
An approaching threat,
Descended and engulfed like a net;

Seemingly splitting in two,
The mind divided
And with such aversion collided,
Twisting and resisting against what was sighted;

But presently reassurance reached
Across the schism,
Bringing both halves together
And strongly bonding them;

Doubt was breached
And confidence strengthened,
Determination and motivation returned
And the mind felt unburdened.

Thoughts of ‘Where to now?’ disappeared,
Replaced by this new resolve,
This solid state,
Now so easy to appreciate,

Lighting up the dark,
As obviously as the tiny spark
Of a firefly,
On a moonless night;

A remarkable rise back up,
After such a deep slump;
And for the time being,
Stability re-established and tensions easing.

Curved: Around the Circle

Woke up
Got up,
Jumped right into
Activity,

Lots of flow
From one action
To another
With plenty of racket,

Then suddenly
All came to a halt,
Energy flagged
And the mood sagged,

Sadness arose,
Until caught sight of
A leafy tree,
Which cheered me.

Completely miraculous!
How changeable life is,
Is there any greater
Magic than this?

That from energy
Sprang activity,
Which begat flow,
Followed by fatigue,

Then out of this tiredness
Came stillness,
And afterwards there arose
Great sadness;

But looking out from melancholy
Lead to seeing,
Taking in the soft greenness,
Which triggered joy and sereneness,
This too so fleeting and so amazing!

Curve: Emptiness and Futility

Feeling very alone and forlorn,
Saw a monarch butterfly
Fluttering past against a cloudy sky,
Thought about its natural history:

An egg is laid
On a milkweed plant,
Hatches by itself,
Grows by itself,
Transforms by itself,
Takes wing by itself,
Alone, just like me,

But, I am not a butterfly,
But a human being (Whatever that is!);
Each butterfly is unique,
And yet it’s a butterfly,
Not a cloud or a human being;

Each human is unique,
And yet all are human beings,
And each cloud is unique,
And yet still a cloud.

But, look now,
A cloud contains the five elements,
Namely, moisture, air, heat, earth, and space,
And so does a butterfly
And so does a human being.

And also, a butterfly
Cannot exist in isolation:
It needs the milkweed,
And everything else
In order to be;

All are unique, separate, isolated,
And inherently empty, connected, integrated;
But, I still don’t see
How that helps me today!

Curtains: Folding and Unfolding

This meditation mostly about
Holding the posture,
Which at the end
Found I’d done incorrectly!

Experimented with full lotus,
Went surprisingly well,
Seems better on the floor,
Too painful with cushions;

Amazing how hard
To maintain a posture,
And whenever my mind wandered
It was because I’d let that posture slip,

Every time I noticed,
Energy redirected towards the posture,
Very effective for
Re-establishing concentration;

Found this practice
Valuable and helpful,
Learning how to be,
Or merely re-discovering?

Afterwards, when sitting
With my tea,
Felt much better,
Still felt concentrated.

Gosh, peace is hard work!
Sitting around only
A small part,
For then there’s everything else,

But that’s most of it,
This effort seems so puny,
And the rest so enormous,
Or maybe simply because of identification with
Only one tiny bit, instead of just inhabiting all.

Cursory: Looking Over

Temporary relief,
Once again
In the form of
A delicious repast,

It goes by so fast,
Replaced by
Some new unpleasant task
Or disagreeable happening;

That’s how it goes,
Until equanimity is reached,
The walls of misery breached,
And the final letting go;

There are these moments of peace
But no everlasting release,
It’s only back to the kitchen
To prepare another feast,

It always comes back to food,
At least in my present mood;
It’s the simplest of pleasures
That seems to satisfy the most,

It’s all about
Basic needs:
Peace and quiet
And a full stomach.

And then?
That’s the question,
What’s next?
Suffering prevention?

I’ve tried to find that certainly,
But seems to be in short supply lately.
I’ll just have to keep going
And looking straight ahead
At what’s here until I’m finished.

Currents: Indigestible

Fuzzy mind,
Unable to settle,
Unable to concentrate;
It’s a migraine fog,

Difficult to penetrate,
Head like oatmeal:
Soggy and runny,
Milky and flaky,

My eyes swollen up too,
My stomach full of
Knots of nausea;
It’s most uncomfortable,

My back is hurting
From top to bottom,
My neck is tight
And my head aches too.

Oh, how I detest
This feeling,
And yet there’s a pleasantness
If I don’t fight it,

But if I give in
What will I achieve?
And there’s always
Buckets to do.

It’s suffering stew,
Luckily I enjoy cooking
That’s something at least,
And better than complaining;

Alas, my poor readers
Cannot partake in the feast,
But have to make do
With word soup instead.

Curly: Around and Around

Simply sitting,
Attempting to recapture
The state I experience
When listening to audio plays:

Effortlessly being,
Not thinking,
Just awareness,
Without disturbing emotions or discomforts;

But I seem unable to discover
How to sustain this effect
Without the aid of
Elaborate auditory input.

How peculiar,
What to make of it?
Is it merely some sort of habit?
And if so, how else to perpetuate it?

What’s needed
To bring it about
When I’m sitting?
And how get it to stay?

Meanwhile,
Aching aback the shoulders
Persists while settling in,
Waiting and observing:

Thoughts, feelings, sensations
Fizzing up and swirling
For the duration of
The sitting;

So many happenings
Buzzing through the mind,
Until I forget about them,
And then, unexpectedly, from within calm
I hear the bell chime.

Curling: Exploring Dullness

Drearily, dreamily, drowsily
Sitting and listening to
The peculiar domestic noises
Of living,

But staying present for
This sloth and torpor,
Inquiring what it’s like,
Noticing what it is:

There’s a sluggishness,
A pleasant dullness setting in,
So difficult to penetrate
This fogginess,

From too little sleep,
And too much noise,
Or that’s my guess,
Though I’m never sure;

There’s always
So much going on,
It’s hard to locate
The actual cause,

But the effect
Is certainly very obvious,
In the form of
Trouble concentrating;

There’s no fulfillment
In sitting in this,
But it’s so difficult
To go against it;

Getting up feels impossible,
And the lure of succumbing
So intense,
But I persist,
As it’s all too interesting to miss.

Curious: Looking Around

Attending to
And forgetting everything,
Floating in and out
As I perform my tasks;

Where does awareness go?
How does it come back?
The mind wanders off,
On business of its own,

Meanwhile, life goes on,
Conditions change,
Then I’m back again,
Looking over it all,

Noticing a sadness
Coming up
And settling in,
Weighing heavily,

But then soon
Another habit kicks in,
And I’m snacking
And feeling good once more;

Preparing a feast
For the evening meal,
More of this I can use!
It’s better than brooding.

But then it’s a new mood,
One of the lighter ones,
A calmer and a gentler
Frame of mind;

Sitting and observing
The mind’s flow,
Like icebergs drifting by
Across the sea,
Slowly melting away.

Curiosity: Playing with What’s On

Grocery shopping:
Pulling the buggy,
Dodging carts and kids,
Checking prices,
Trudging home and stowing it.

Preparing supper:
Water in the pot to boil,
Oil, almonds, lentils, barley, rice,
Chop, chop, in go the vegetables,
Letting it simmer and spicing it up.

Mixed bag meditation:
Aching in the back,
Bliss and aversion,
Spacious attention,
Sloth and torpor.

Internet dancing:
Viewing emails,
Deleting and re-arranging,
Renaming and making new folders,
Checking in with forums.

Laundry fiddling:
Out of the washer
Into the dryer,
Out of the dryer
Into the drawers and closet.

Same old routine,
Some would call it,
But I’ve learned
That every moment
Is different:

Every sensation, feeling, thought,
Worthy of a, ‘what’s this?’
Every task or action
Merits careful attention.

Cunning: Scaling the Ladder

A terrible darkness
Crept up upon me,
An impenetrable gloom
That afflicted and penetrated everything,

Stuck in the mud,
Mired in physical
And mental paralysis,
Like an insect;

But at first
I did not see it,
And then could not fathom
What to do:

I sat frozen
In place
On the edge
Of the bed,

Where I had
Sat down
With the intention
Of changing my socks;

But then, suddenly
I remembered,
‘I have to MOVE!
GET UP!’

Slowly, slowly,
First one sock, and then the other,
First one slipper,
And then the other,

Then, while keeping the darkness in view,
Foot, foot, foot, foot,
Out to the kitchen to start breakfast,
Then back to the computer to write this account,
By which time the gloom had receded.

Cumulative: Lifeguarding

The anti-oppression work continues,
Although even the “anti” is extra;
It’s really more like “not,”
As there’s no force involved,

The attentiveness is light,
I simply notice, ‘there it is again,
That oppression,’
And watch the clouds lifting,

And then, there are
Just thoughts or feelings,
Slowly drifting through
And dissolving away,

Until the next forgetting;
Getting lost amongst
The ruminations
And reactions,

Followed by ‘there it is again’
Or even ‘what’s this?’
And the flow breaks out
Once more;

It’s as if I’m sitting by the shore
Watching the lapping of the waves
Instead of getting pulled
Into the big lake,

But then dazzled by
The sunlight reflected
Off the water,
Suddenly I’m under it,

Dragged out by the undertow,
Into the depths, but then
Resurfacing on, ‘what’s this?’
And ‘there it is again,’
Swimming back in, and resuming my posture.

Culvert: Learning How to Swim

Sat again
On a different note,
Not so happy,
But just as present for it,

Feeling more here,
The mind less oppressed,
Or at least,
Less inclined to stay that way,

As every time I notice it,
I am reminded
To not let that persist,
But stand back and loosen up a bit,

It makes an enormous difference,
Seeing sadness
From this point of view
As something happening, not me;

It’s like a taste
Of being free
Even if only
For a while,

Until the next thought
On which the mind gets caught,
Or into which it sinks
Or plunges,

Up and down the waves,
In and out of the deep,
One minute surfacing,
The next under water;

Many swimming lessons
There have been,
And, for all I know,
Many more may follow.

Cultivation: Child at Play

Like a child
With a new toy
I persist in playing with,
‘What’s this?’

Going deeper
And deeper
Into the darkest places,
Asking ‘What’s this?’

Looking at the biggest fears,
Quite unhappily at first, but then
Once again it occurred to me,
‘What’s this?’

Smiling and laughing,
I looked even more closely
At these,
Continuing to ask, ‘What’s this?’

Knowing I’m getting repetitive,
Like a child who gets fascinated by
A certain sound, or word or phrase
And can’t stop repeating it;

The adults get so annoyed sometimes,
Perhaps because they’ve forgotten
The bliss of playing with
Something like, ‘What’s this?’

But now I’m remembering
What joy there was in
Such simplicity,
Such pleasure in, ‘what’s this?’

‘How long will this last?’ I wonder,
And then, ‘what is this wondering?
How does it feel to wonder so?’
And on and on, for as long as
‘This’ lasts, and beyond.

Criterion: ‘What’s This?’

Stacking my three cushions
In the usual way,
And setting the timer
For twenty minutes,

I sat the body down
And assumed my customary posture,
Aiming for stability
And attentiveness.

‘What shall I do this time?’
‘What’s this?’ Came the unexpected reply,
And my attention turned
Towards what was happening in the body.

‘What’s this?’
The label-thought arose spontaneously,
And then gazing towards that thought,
‘What’s this?’ I inquired.

Then it occurred to me to
Turn towards the turning towards
And labeling and noticing process,
And ask ‘What’s this?’

Who knew that such bliss
Could arise from simply asking, ‘What’s this?’
And then, looking towards that bliss,
‘What’s this?’

A sense of flow arose too,
‘Flow? What’s this?’
The bliss turned into rapture,
‘Rapture? What’s this?’

The bell sounded, but the enjoyment of
‘What’s this?’ persisted all evening;
Such relaxation! Such ease!
Has not been felt in these parts
For many a day!

Crisp: Housecleaning

Steeped in brooding,
Deeply despondent
And loathing everything,
Pushing away from the nightmare,

Trying to break through
The heaviness,
But only sinking even further
Into listlessness;

Concluding, ‘Oh, the futility of even trying,
As the gloom goes on to the horizon;’
These moods, these dark attitudes,
As thick as the cloud bank zooming past

That from my window
I viewed with dismay, thinking,
‘Oh, woe! How will I ever
Be able to get through this?’

Then suddenly
It occurred to me,
‘But these same clouds
Inhabit the sky.’

All words and thoughts fled
As if swept away by the wind,
And the spaciousness inside
Extended in all directions,

And then I saw that my mind too was
As wide as the infinite sky!
But then again, I saw the despair,
That it was still there, oh yes!

And so were the clouds,
But they no longer seemed
Separated from the blue,
I could now see how these two exist:
Intermingled and yet distinct.

Crevice: Looking Up from the Depths

Five minutes to go
Before off to work again,
Until then
I have to write fast,

Today the emotions flashed,
And a few insights passed by
My roving inner eye,
With no particular results,

But for what results am I looking?
Don’t think I’ll find them here,
But not sure where else to search;
Feeling for all the seekers,

Wish I could spare them
All that grief,
If I only had the means,
But I don’t think I have that either;

Is this compassion?
Perhaps,
Or simply some sort of longing
I cannot identify.

Oh well,
I’m running out of time,
Have to go and listen
To more of others’ woes

That’s my job,
To listen
And be there
For those for whom I can be,

And that’s all
I can do for now,
Until some better way
Occurs to me or arises.

Crevasse: Blown

Woke up groggily,
Backache and shingles itch,
Still feels muggy,
As usual, made some coffee,

Listening to an audiobook,
No Buddhism, but science fiction,
Giving the Buddha a rest
As he’s been working way too hard lately,

Continuous effort may be
Some sort of standard,
But around here
Everybody needs a break some time,

But what is a break?
Reality never stops rolling along,
But there are interludes of calm
Amongst the throng,

How luxuriously decadent
To have any time at all
To reflect and consider
What’s up,

The view out the window
Is not very restful
For there’s a huge cloud bank
Blowing past with great speed,

The white fluffiness
So glaringly bright
It hurts my sleep-crusted eyes,
And I turn away blinking,

Losing all track of
That to which I’m listening
While I’m typing,
Pausing occasionally to take a sip,
Way too busy already, and barely mindful at all!

Crestfallen: Unnecessary Agitation

I made a mistake
That took hours
To correct,
But that wasn’t
The end of it,

For I’d made another major one
Prior to that one
Within the same document,
How annoying!

And it would probably have remained
Uncovered, undiscovered
If I hadn’t corrected
The first one.

Both frustrating,
And stimulating;
I may be up all night
Recovering from this run,

After all that metta too,
To get so excited,
Wisdom bypassed this time
Or so it seems,

Stumbling around,
Falling in and out of trouble,
Bursting the bubble,
Stubbing my toe I hobble,

Rubbing my sore foot
And wiping my brow,
Exasperated and exhausted
All over again,

No use reacting badly
As it’s up and down as usual,
But I did it anyway,
Force of habit I suppose.

Crest: Up the Mountain

After hours of tumult
Peace finding mind
Returns with metta,
And good wishes flow

Smoothing the disturbance,
Easing the distraught,
Bringing comfort
To the troubled,

Giving instead of taking,
Receiving instead of pushing away,
Filling up the empty space
With warmth and compassion;

The dark season is
On it’s way,
But the light
Is shining anyway,

Summer’s fading into autumn,
But in the coolness
Is tranquility,
In the darkness, serenity;

Soon twill be time
To light the bonfires,
Reap the harvest
And wrap the gifts,

Kindness rekindled
Once more
In its natural home,
The mind;

Wisdom is sure to follow
Even if only
For a short time,
Until the tempest
Re-forms.

Creditable: Not a Mug’s Game

As the black coffee mug
Has broken up,
Demonstrating its impermanence,
I’ve switched to another,

But I’ve always
Used this one for tea,
And so I keep thinking
It contains tea.

How odd to keep expecting tea
And tasting coffee;
From whence did this idea arise,
And why can’t I abandon it?

Perhaps this is merely
A form of grasping;
I certainly feel
Some irritation or aversion here.

It seems
Somewhat ridiculous,
For isn’t a mug
Just a mug?

And the alternate one’s better too,
As it more easily holds
The desired volume of water,
Thus reducing the risk of spills;

But still,
I miss the old one,
And surely this is
A kind of stickiness,

Only a little suffering,
But it all adds up,
Yet also a good opportunity
To apply a kindly nonjudgmental attitude
To the study of clinging.

Credible: A Simple Matter

I poured hot water
Into the coffee mug,
And it cracked in two!

The first I knew
Was coffee leaking
All over the countertop,
And my fingers flew
To move the cup into the sink.

Oh, my beautiful cup,
The one I received
For some work well done,
Shall I save it?

I threw it out at once
Then decided to retrieve it,
And in the process
Slashed my thumb
On the sharp edges;

Now it lies
Atop the toaster oven
In two pieces,
And I cannot decide what to do with it.

This gift of accomplishment
Is related to
A current goal,
And so I asked,
‘What does this mean?’

Is it a bad sign,
A good omen,
A simple case of
Poor quality and frequent use,
Or even merely a matter of,
Sometimes a broken cup
Is just a broken cup?

Crease: Bloodstream in the Word Stream

There’s always
So much to say,
But how foolish to try
With one’s mouth full
Of toasted cheese, tomato,
Cucumber, and sweet red pepper
Sandwich!

Better to pay attention,
For if I had been,
I probably would not
Have stabbed the left knuckle
Of my middle finger with the knife
When I was cutting
The plastic off the English cucumber.

I never expected
Such a continuous stream of blood;
Luckily, the fruit flies
That have been
So busily invading
My building lately
Aren’t bloodsuckers.

Once again, it’s time for bed,
The knife is washed and stowed,
The bread and vegetables refrigerated;
All is quiet on the kitchen front,
Except for the compressor
Kicking over now and then,
On this very humid night.

Mindfully, I notice what’s about,
In between seeing and hearing
The tapping of the keys
Beneath my fingers,
Occasionally checking on
The bloody knuckle,
To ensure it’s going to settle,
But then, ‘oh wait, I forgot to eat some fruit!’

Creamy: Stream of Mind

How changeable
This weather is,
Outside
And inside,

As awakened by restlessness,
Steeped in fatigue,
Pedaling on the exercise bike
Brought some relief,

But followed soon
By sadness and grief
For so many losses,
And micro-catastrophes,

Then the tasks
Of the day,
Drew me out
Of this self-centeredness,

Peppers for sale,
Fresh tomatoes,
Fresh cider,
And broccoli,

What a beautiful day,
The warm sun,
The people,
The sights and sounds,

Back to the kitchen
To stow my groceries,
And then more reflection
More sorrow,

But this time
Tinged with peace
And understanding
Of life as it is.

Crashing: Stuck on the Wheel

So full of ill will
And aversion,
But I feel
I’m repeating myself here,

Rolling over and over
Like an alligator
Grasping and throttling
Its prey,

Or thrashing about
Like a bull
Caught in the
Gator’s grip,

Irrevocably locked together
In a desperate struggle
To eat or
To avoid being eaten;

And so, I too
Pursue the water wheel around,
Up and down,
Foaming up the waters,

I can’t seem to stop,
But keep coming back
To this,
Over and over again;

What restlessness
Is driving me
So insistently, persistently
And to what end?

Where will it take me?
Or, is it to be merely
An incessant repetition,
For as long as
This being is?

Covering: Another Step

Interesting developments,
Or not,
Can’t tell which way
The wind is blowing,

Efforts to stay present
Not very successful,
But trying to learn
From this experience;

Looking ahead,
Is way too tiring,
Hence my attempt
Is to let go,

To relax into
Familiar activities,
Resting in each task,
Staying with it:

This task
Is the only task,
This goal
The only goal,

And then
Onto
The next one,
And on,

Steady on
For as long
As I can
Maintain the pace,

But no race,
No rush,
Just one step
Followed by another.

Coverage: On Going

Second thoughts
Plague me,
Logic sways me,
Intuition weighs on me;

Oh, what a lot
Of “me”ing;
Time to remind:
It’s not me, not mine.

Then interest and curiosity
Moderate aversion,
Practicality reduces
The urge to flee into the unknown,

Or is the unknown
Still here,
In front of me?
Most likely.

Steeped in delusion
Too, I’d guess,
Will the fog
Ever clear?

And when it does
What will be there?
How’s that
For suspense?

So intense,
So full of energy,
Considering
How exhausted.

Enough speculation!
Time to do laundry,
And prepare for bed,
Goodnight,
And metta to all.

Courageous: Truth or Dare

Woke up
Way too early,
But what a beautiful
Morning,

Not much pain,
Feels good to move,
Determined to
Enjoy it.

Cotton batten clouds
Marching steadily
Above tall towers,
And wind-stirred tree-leaves,

A fabulous scene;
I witness it
And am an
Integral participant;

The winds of change
May blow today too,
As I consider
My future,

Looking ahead
The waters are muddy,
So hard to decide
Where to go next,

A rest is in order
But how to get it?
Is it even possible
From where I’m at?

I wonder and deliberate;
Perhaps it’s a jump
Or a flying great leap,
But I won’t know for sure
Unless I take it.

Courage: Steady On

A day of surprises
And unexpected turns
In the road,
Heavy and light is the load,

Present moments
Punctuated by punctures,
From sharp objects
Hidden amongst the clutter,

Pitfalls and potholes
On the trail
Producing mayhem,
Leading to

Loss and gain,
Elation and despondency,
Fruitful reflection
And pointless rumination;

Feeling oppressed
And wondering
How not to be,
How can such freedom be?

How can I find that
Within this predicament?
Back to practice, is it?
But I don’t feel like it!

I’d rather rage, or run away
Or forget about it,
But I can’t forget,
And I can’t get out.

To examine the details
Would be too tedious,
So I just gaze ahead
Negotiating the trail mindfully,
Struggling to steady my rickety vehicle as it goes.

Countless: Wordplay

The rain
Keeps falling
Inside and outside,
Business as usual;

No new words,
And yet
More words
Keep coming anyway,

Continuously they flow
Every day,
But what can words do
Against such obstacles?

Perhaps
If I knew
It would make
All the difference,

Or perhaps
Even now,
Somehow
It does,

Otherwise why pursue this?
Especially as
My spelling seems to
Worsen daily;

Could it be
Just force of habit,
The reassurance
Of one’s own voice,

A familiar voice,
But whose?
There is sound
And then it goes,
Resolving into silence.

Counterparts: Teachers and Students

Reflecting upon
The relationship
Between Dharma teachers
And their students,

I considered
How to describe
What I have so far
Observed and experienced,

Thinking,
Just as the proximity
Of flowers to each other
Affects how they grow,

So to, when one engages
In an interaction,
And a dialogue
About the Dharma,

The pattern of unfolding
Of teacher and student
Is altered, in accordance with
Their natures;

Each attempt to communicate,
The exchange of views
Influences the outcome
For each participant;

The results of
This interchange
Lead to more discussion
And so, both flowers grow,

Sometimes battered
By wind and rain,
But nevertheless, still standing
At the end of the storm.

Counterfeit: Mistaken Identity

Busyness
In the mind,
Idleness
In the fingers,

Until one
External pinprick
Triggered
A flood of reactions,

Overwhelmed and restless,
Waking early into aversion,
Only to find potential good news,
For which, naturally I was unprepared;

Stumbling and fumbling,
And probably making mistakes
That I don’t see;
How typical,

How monotonous
Is the progression of
The conditioned pattern,
The standard reactions;

And yet,
Through these moments,
The unconditioned
Is said to be found,

Coexisting, they reside together
Inseparably intermingled,
What a shame I failed to notice,
Became lost and behaved unskillfully;

But at least, I later
Recalled my absorption,
Realized my distraction,
Saw how my aversion
Blinded me.

Counterbalance: Changing Sides

Finally,
Another rushing day,
After so long
Waiting for cool weather;

Heat slows me down,
But coolness
Sends me racing
And accomplishing;

Fall’s approaching,
Soon will be time again
For autumn tasks;
Nothing lasts,

Yet seasons somehow
Come round again,
Though never
Quite the same;

Not much sitting today,
And rather disorientating
After so many days
Of being enclosed,

More inner oriented,
Self-contained
Behind closed walls,
Yet, looking outwards too,

Investigating the scene,
Not sure where
I’m going now
Or where I’ve been,

Or whether I’m
Even moving at all,
Or just
Imagining
The whole thing.

Counteraction: Impermanence

My entry for today is based on a brief reflection upon the following:

"Among humans, these things, namely,
Gain, loss, status, disrepute, blame, praise, pleasure, and pain
Naturally are impermanent, uncertain, and liable to change.
The wise, ever mindful, understand these things
And contemplate them as always shifting and changing.
Thus, delightful things cannot oppress their minds,
They have no reaction to disagreeable things,
They have abandoned all liking and disliking (for worldly
concerns).
Further, they know the path of nirvana, dust-free and without
sorrow,
They have reached the other shore of existence and know this
correctly."*


Recently, I found this very helpful, when I was experiencing a great sense of loss. In particular, I considered the question, how could a loss be impermanent? What I found when I looked deeply into this question and deeply into my sense of loss amazed me, and enabled me, first to soften towards it and then to let go of it, at which point it dissolved. For anyone who would like to know what I found, I invite you to try it out for yourselves and see what happens.











*Anguttara Nikaya, Pathamalokadhamma Sutta (Sutta5), Metta Vagga (ch. 1), Atthakanipaata, Cited in Chödrön, Thubten, Chapter 5, Marketing the Dharma, In Hooked! Buddhist Writings on Greed, Desire, and the Urge to Consume, Edited by Stephanie Kaza, Boston & London: Shambhala 2005, p. 74.

Countenance: Playing

Ah, the marvelous monotony
Of daily life;
Drinking coffee,
I examine the liquid,

And the reflection
In the liquid
Fills me
With wonder;

I fill a Styrofoam cup
With water and place it
In the microwave
To heat it for tea,

And from somewhere unknown,
Happiness overflows
Into this seemingly
Ordinary task;

Then I realize,
I forgot to mix up
Some milk
From the powder,

But in place of
My usual irritation
Experience joyous amazement,
At how this could be so;

What is happening?
Where did this come from?
How long will it last?
I do not know.

But after a while
I forget about that,
And simply notice,
Study
And appreciate thoroughly.

Coterminous: Against the Wall

No matter
How many times
I see clearly,
I go blind again.

Even though
I’ve seen repeatedly how
Facing pain
Leads to bliss,

How confronting disgust
Proceeds through
To neutrality,
And release,

Over-confidence
Leads to despondency
And depression,
And back out once more,

Into happiness,
Even euphoria,
And deep
Contentment;

I keep forgetting,
And stumbling around
In the dark,
Yet again,

Until I find my balance,
Only to lose it,
Or forget about it
Until the next misstep.

But perhaps this is merely
What is meant by continually
Discovering and rediscovering
One’s beginner’s mind,
Or at least, my particular version.

Costumed: Reality in Disguise

Through this moment
Everything is found;
Looking in the mirror
Or a still pool of water,

We may forget the glass
And the water,
But they are
Part of the scene,

Their essence
Is integral
To the view
We see,

And the apparatus
Of our eyes
Is a major ingredient,
As well as the brain;

None is independent
Of the other;
All are indispensable
For creating the picture;

And, through this image,
The other sensations
And impressions,
We find happiness and freedom,

For they dwell
Right before us
In each moment
We experience,

And although we may need to go
Many places in our busy day,
There’s really
No place else to go
To find our heart’s desire.

Corroboration: Meeting the Breath

Migraine brings
Too many images,
Too much going on,
All at once;
Can’t focus,

Resorted to
Settling into
One object:
Sensations
Of the breathing,

From top to bottom;
Completely in,
And all the way out,
Centred in the whole abdomen,

Attention anchored,
Letting all other
Sensations go,
Was the only method
That stabilized this mind;

Resting on a single
Set of processes,
Feeling the pleasant
Of the rippling muscles,

Pulling in the air
And releasing it;
Such joy in this simple motion;
How incredible!

Can’t imagine
Anyplace else
I’d rather be
Than with this,
As it is,
Right here
Right now.

Corridor: What’s Happening

There’s been a lot happening:
Grief mixed with comforting,
Insight infused with equanimity;
Like watching a movie,
The images flow so fast,
Time is meaningless;

Equanimity brings joy,
Leading to amazement at
The intensity of emotions,
Which nevertheless
Change so swiftly,
Seeming hard as concrete,
But disappearing abruptly,
And just as quickly replaced.

‘Where do they come from?’
I asked,
And I had no idea;
How is it that these
Seemingly solid feelings
Vanish so fast?

How incredible
That the processes
Of this body
Give rise to such intense
Sensations.

How is it that
This is so?
From whence does
This experience originate?

I know something of the physiology,
But this doesn’t mitigate
The wonder
Of the texture, the depth
Or the richness of this moment;
And, that each moment is equally infinite.

Correspondence: Fascinating

Examining the cage again,
Looking around,
Amazed by every detail,
Fascinated by all
I see.

It’s hard to describe,
But how extraordinary,
Thunder and lightening,
Wow! What a show.

Pouring rain,
Thick cloud
Like a fog,
An awesome storm barrels through;

Meanwhile,
The mundane activity
Carries on indoors,
As I continue with my chores;

It’s business as usual
And yet unusual,
All the same
And everything new;

Each day a new thing,
Each day the same old;
How wondrous,
How ordinary;

How repetitive
I’m getting;
How do I do that
Time and time again?

What fun!
And how is it that
My life can be so interesting,
And so boring?

Correlation: Reframing

Moving around
And sitting,
Exercising
And bathing the itchy skin,

Feels like a cage
I’m examining,
The repetitive routines,
I seem to be stuck in;

Nevertheless, I see no alternative
But to keep looking
And keep going
On my weary way,

Through whatever it is
I’m going through,
Enjoying the scenery
Whenever there’s an opportunity;

At least that leisure
Is an option
From time to time,
In between exertions,

Regularly, throughout the day
I get to look out
From this vantage point
And notice what’s here,

And how it feels
To be here,
Which is difficult to describe
And even harder to explain;

It hurts my brain
To try to elaborate,
But I will try:
I feel closer to everything
And yet further away.

Correctly: Coming and Going

On the way home
From the market,
I saw a single Monarch butterfly,
Which can mean only one thing:

Autumn is not far away,
For tis the season of
The great Monarch migration,
To the south;

What a wonderful sight!
Especially as I can’t recall
When last I saw
Such a patterned black/orange beauty,

A fleeting flash of colour,
Fluttering up and down
On the air currents
Of a warm August afternoon;

Fly little winged one,
Fly strongly, fly well,
Carrying my best wishes
On your delicate wings:

One for compassion,
The other for wisdom,
Not one, not two,
Or so I’ve heard;

They come and go
So swiftly
These precious moments,
When I feel so alive,

So connected,
It’s hard to believe
That “I” too
Is so short-lived,
But there it is—impermanence.

Correction: Whirlwind

Zest for life
Exploded abruptly in me tonight;
Not sure of the cause,
But whoa, what a force!

It might have been the weather,
Or the shingles healing progress;
Don’t know how long this will last
Could be gone fast;

Nevertheless, it’s interesting to see
How I get so grabbed
By whatever mood or emotion
That barrels through,

One after the other,
And I’m getting caught
On them all;
But at least I can see,

Although I can’t
Seem to do anything about it,
Only watch and learn
What odd twists and turns,

How blinded,
How stuck in it,
How curious,
How disconcerting!

The effect is so strong,
It alters all aspects,
Leads me to doubt,
To ask, 'who is this?

What is this happening now
That seems so real,
So concrete and sure
But breaks up so easily
Whenever the conditions change?'

Corralled: Shut Out, Shut In

Caught up in thinking
And talking
And then just plain lost,
Shaky and fatigued,

The one constant
Being the renovations
That keep coming and coming,
And no end in sight;

Just when I think
It’s finally over
A new round starts up,
Doesn’t this guy ever get fed up?

I bet he does,
But we all
Have to earn
A living somehow;

Nevertheless, how frustrating that just when
The hot weather eased
And I could finally
Go outside,

He’s moved his machine
To the balcony,
So I have to choose
Between relative quiet and fresh air.

I chose the former
And got on with
Some noisy work
I had to do,
In self-defense
Against his insistent brouhaha.

Corpus: On My Mind

I was ready
To give up on mindfulness,
Until I remembered
Tara,

In the form of
A voice in my head
Calling my name,
As if she needed me;

How clever,
For how could one
Who’s occupation involves helping others
Ignore such a request?

I sat and visualized
Her across from me
In the usual place,
Inviting her to sit with me,

My resolve strengthened
And I was able to meditate,
Steadied by the perception of
Tara’s presence and her image;

Something worthwhile to investigate
Had indeed arisen,
And I set about
Noting all

Of what was present,
Whether pleasant
Or unpleasant,
Without judging or rejecting it.

Upon consideration of these events,
I take this as
A demonstration of
The mind’s power
To lead the body back home.

Corpulence: In the Way

Steeped in sadness
At the close of the day;
Waiting for answers?
Or maybe just waiting;

Wading though
A flock of dreams
And pushing them aside,
Making room for what?

What’s in between?
I can’t quite see,
Practical considerations
Crowd them out.

Once I thought
I saw something valuable,
But now
I’m not so sure;

Where does one go
When all is so obscured,
Or could the darkness itself
Be my object?

Once I thought it was
But I can’t see it now,
And I’m not certain
There’s anything there;

It’s just life
You see;
That’s all
That’s happening,

And with
Such a life as this,
Is there anything
Worth examining?
Perhaps that comes later.

Corpse: Ashes to Ashes

Day of doubt,
Roaming in the forest
Totally lost
But found,

Veering in
A new direction,
One followed before,
But see no other option

Than looking back towards
The old ways,
As the new path
Appears faulty or blocked,

Or maybe
It never was,
Except in my delirious
Imaginings,

Desperately concocted
In the depths
Of a frantically
Seeking mind;

No regrets, however,
Except for
Could have been,
Should have been
But was withheld;

For what reason?
I see none
That makes any sense,
But perhaps that’s just
The nature of doubt.

Corporeal: Body of Suffering

Itching kept me up
For parts of the night;
Blast the wretched shingles!
And a pox on this humid air!

Steeped in negativity:
Is it the situation,
Or the medication?
I don’t even care!

Then up came an email
Advising me of another
Mediation course,
‘Should I sign up?

Why not!’ I decided,
And felt better immediately,
How silly,
But I’ll take what I can get.

And then I got up,
And got some work done,
Cooked supper
And enjoyed it.

What to conclude?
I’m not sure,
Something to
Look forward to perhaps?

Meanwhile,
This itching and burning
Is still driving me nuts;
I may try a bath,

To see if I can
Drown this hellish plague;
Possibly I’ll take a book
And stay there,
Until it freezes over.

Corollary: A Little Break

Fifteen minutes to go
For the calamine lotion
To dry, solidify
Then this body goes to bed,

Ah, another opportunity
To meditate,
Instead of doing
Any other action or inaction,

But really
I only sat silently
And closed my eyes
And enjoyed the relative quiet;

Then I opened my eyes
Looking at nothing
In particular,
Just appreciating the experience,

Nothing fancy,
No intentional mindfulness
Of breathing
Or anything else;

Simply sitting,
Not thinking of anything
Nor trying not to think,
Neither attempting to achieve,

No expectations
Were attached
To this temporary reprieve
From life’s fast-pace race;

Going no place
I merely gently face
Whatever is here,
Without judgment or regret,
Being in the chair and not there.

Corny: Something Like That

Oh, what a day it’s been!
From raging to exercising,
From cooking to writing,
It’s been a blur.

The mind seems on fire
And the furniture
Is making a lovely flame,
Hot blue, red and yellow;

It crackles furiously,
While the weather outside
Heats up anew,
We’re in for another bout;

Humidity arises,
And coolness wanes,
Thinking, thinking
Speeds up too;

I expect a migraine’s
Headed my way
And it may be
A big one, ew!

That’s all
I have to say,
As I’ve a lot more work
To do before the end of day.

Corner: Coming Around Again

Deep dejection set in,
After a fitful sleep
Full of troublesome dreams
And unpleasant sensations;

Fears, rages and shingles came a stalking,
Shaking me awake with their needles,
And itching and prickling assaulted
My senses, stirring my ill will;

As the humidity lifted,
Fatigue settled in
From the disturbing night,
Challenging my resolve;

The day seemed
Like an eternity
Through which I crawled
From one hell realm to another;

Only when, I dragged myself
Into the kitchen finally
To prepare supper,
Did the rally begin,

Slowly, only slowly;
Later exercising and thinking,
‘It doesn’t matter
How many times I start over,

There are no rules on that
Except the ones I draft,
No law that places a limit
On how many starts or stops I have,

It therefore doesn’t matter
How many times I falter,
Or how many times
I rise again.’

Core: Relishing the Ordinary

Continuing on
With caught-uncaught,
Drifting up and down
Throughout the day,

Thinking of being everything,
Observing the routine
And wondering
Why it’s necessary,

As it all seems the same
From a certain point of view;
Maybe it’s worthwhile,
Either way, it’s all I know right now:

Doing laundry,
Meal preparation,
Eating
And washing dishes,

It all appears more so,
More enjoyable,
More meaningful,
When looked at from here;

I find it interesting
That this mundane activity
Should make so much sense
To me, when it’s so simple;

Complexity is suspended,
Pricey diversions are unavailable
To me currently,
But I don’t care today,

Contentment with the ordinary,
What’s present is enough:
To move, perform essential tasks and breathe,
At the moment these are all I need,
Even though, no satisfaction is guaranteed.

Cordon: Stuck in the Mundane

In recovery
From yesterday,
Accomplished little
But paper pushing,

Sorted through old letters
From a long absent friend,
Forgotten how much
She cared then,

But then she disappeared
The connection broken,
And I don’t suppose,
I’ll ever learn what happened;

Nevertheless,
The letters were filed
Lovingly away, with others
In a cherished spot;

Then came across
Some less welcome correspondence,
From those I have
Less liking of,

But still,
I kept it
For memory’s sake,
As I’m not ready to forget just yet;

Saved by my schedule,
Luckily,
As I had to prepare
For other work once again;

This was no relief,
However, not really,
Only another page
In a very dull book;
I guess now I’m really caught.

Corded: Circling

Another day,
Another disturbance,
Woken up early
To renovation noise,
Outside the legal limit;

Rushed up
To confirm the source,
And telephoned,
But no answer;

Left a note
For security instead,
By which time,
The noise was almost legal,

And the clamour
Continued,
Until I gave up
And got up;

This is what
I’m stuck on,
As this sleep deprivation
Weighs me down heavily,

Stirring up frustration,
And other unpleasant emotions
And sensations,
The limit of my practice resolve breached.

But then, during the quiet interlude
I thought I saw forever again,
Stood in the light of
Cause and effect,

Feeling both free and bound,
Trapped and in motion;
Reality unfolding,
Replacing discouragement and gloominess with equanimity.

Copying: Mundane Motion

Don’t think,
Just do;
That seems to be
The only motto
That’s working
Right now;

Write a poem,
Sort through some papers,
Shred and dispose of
The leftovers,

Shower and laundry,
Calamine on
And cook supper,
Go to work and focus on that;

That’s what’s happening,
Incredibly mundane
And uninteresting,
But so it goes.

One foot,
And then another,
One day,
And then the next,

Proceeding on,
Not stopping to look
As I don’t want to,

Waiting for this
Dreadful mood
To pass through,

To be replaced by another,
Preferably less blue;
I’m really tired of this,
And I bet you are too!

Copious: Shingles, Difficulty and Doubt

Strangely,
It’s not the pain
That’s most irksome
But the low moods
That keep persisting;

Pain I know
All too well,
Though perhaps
They are related,
I don’t know;

Anyway,
The predominant colour
Is not pink calamine,
But blue,

Fatigue is also
A prominent feature
Of this discomfort stew,
Which contributes to the other two;

But what’s this got to do
With meditation?
Nothing maybe,
As I’m full of doubt too;

I am questioning
How this is worthwhile,
Whether it really helps
In the absence of other resources;

Alternatively,
It’s mostly common sense,
Which reduces the quality
Of the ambiance;
How silly to hang on that,
But so many do,
And so, I guess I’m no different.

Coping: Not in the Pink

Still spreading
The calamine pink,
Quite tedious
I think,

And amazing that
Such a simple task
Taxes my mindfulness
To the limit;

How to stay with
An uninteresting situation,
A reminder of the slowness
With which healing takes place;

Meanwhile,
Other obstacles
And irritations
Continue to arise

At the same time
As I’m recovering
From this current
Time consuming annoyance;

It all adds up to
Difficulty staying here,
Preferring elsewhere
Or just not knowing at all,

And how to negotiate that
Remains a task I dislike
That I don’t feel
I do well;

But then, who does
All the time?
No one,
Or so I think.

Conviction: Breath Day

Retreating into
Smiling indifference,
Then returning to
In, out, in, out,
Centering on the breath,
Throughout the day;

Making way,
Creating space,
Spaciousness instead of
Closed-mindedness
And judging;

Loosening the bonds
Between breathing
And all other
Aspects of life,

Which fade
Into the background,
Seeming less real, less relevant,
Comparatively unimportant,

Resting in this place,
Looking around,
Enjoying the inner view,
Peaceful feelings arise anew,

Fresh as meadow-rain-scented air,
Cool and gentle as a spring day,
No disturbances near,
Other than the mild breath-breezes here;

The breath whispers through,
Massaging the body
And soothing the mind,
Steadying, anchoring,
Settling the other
More turbulent winds,
Smoothing out extremes.

Conveyance: Breathing Forward

Awakened by
Construction,
Unable to
Get back to sleep;
Grasping at answers.

Anger, frustration,
Punctuated by fantasies
Of other times spent
In silence with companions,
Just sitting together:

Sitting at the movies,
On the front steps
Of a dining hall
At summer camp,
Glumly missing some hero
Of ours, sharing the misery;

Sitting at breakfast
With a housemate
At university,
One who listened
One who took the time,
Punctuated with black tea
And sherry wine;

Finally,
I settled into
Breathing,
Setting my intention, as:

Breathing is
My world today,
Inside and outside,
Letting go inside
Letting go outside,
This will be my goal.

Tomorrow: the results of this experiment.