Catchy: Bringing Composure into Chaos

My practice has been really difficult lately, and I have felt very frustrated about it, alternating between wanting to do it and thinking of it as a total waste of time. Then during brunch today, I suddenly found myself in a calm aware state that is difficult for me to describe, because it seemed to me that it was neither mindfulness nor not mindfulness. I wondered if perhaps mindfulness is kind of like artificial flavour or colour; it’s close to or analogous to but not quite our natural state of mind. Either way, I decided that what I needed to do was bring this state of calm awareness, whatever it is, to my practice and to my life, though I wasn’t really sure how to do so.

I considered whether this too was just a matter of practice, that perhaps if I just noticed when this state arose, and stayed with it for as long as I could, without trying to, but only stopped wherever I was at the time, this might eventually work or lead into an answer to how to bring this to every aspect and moment of my life. So, for example, if it happens when I am sitting, keep sitting, or if when walking, keep walking.

Meanwhile, I had got fed up with struggling to sit with pain, and since it is said that the Buddha recommended meditation in all postures, namely, sitting, standing, walking, and sitting; and, lying down felt best, I decided to lie down. The result was that I felt relaxed, calm, aware, and well settled in the present moment, throughout this 20-minute session. In short, I felt the same kind of state of calm awareness I had experienced earlier in the day, and there was no suffering that I could detect. Then when my bell rang, I began to think about what I had to do next, and suffering returned.

What was this suffering? When I examined it, I saw that it was being caught on my desire to remain lying down and my resistance to getting up and doing something. Then, I remembered from the teachings that desire and aversion and being caught on them are the result of temporary causes and conditions, which have nothing to do with me or with ‘I,’ for that matter, who did not exist at the time this pattern was created. This pattern of causes and conditions is not me, not mine, and therefore has nothing to do with me.

At once, I was able to disregard the pattern, which dissolved, and suddenly it became easy to get up and make tea, as I normally do prior to doing my regular work out. And then it occurred to me, once again (as on February 16), I had answered my own question. Last time a chaotic state of mind was pulled into calmness; this time a calm state of mind was brought to the chaos.

Catching: Turning Towards My Aversions

Cautiously I sat to meditate.
Indecision arose:
How should I approach
This session?

Examine this confusion
I concluded,
And upon so doing,
Found interest in the breathing.

Return to sanity:
Breathing in
Breathing out,
Noticing what’s present.

Awareness of pain
And restlessness;
Investigation of this agitation
Revealed interesting results:

Fluttering in the chest
Producing contraction,
Tension causing more pain,
Further hurt triggering added discomfort.

Drowsiness set in:
An attempt to get away
From this endless cycle
Of cause and effect.

Caught in a round of
Causes, conditions,
And consequences,
What is the strategy?

Sitting with this process,
Turning towards the experience,
Being aware but not in it;
Kindly acknowledging and accepting,
Exploring, but not identifying with.

Catch: Reset, Restart

What’s up
With these black moods?
Causes and conditions
My friend.

Whatever this is,
Whatever the cause,
One day it will disappear,
Meanwhile my job is clear:

To keep on keeping on,
Without panic or concern;
‘Tis a call to equanimity,
A quest to be well here.

What gets in the way,
Is doubts about it;
The solution is
More questions and answers.

So I searched my mind,
Mused over what I’ve learned,
And took action at once,
To take charge of my attitude.

That’s all that needed changing,
No need for mood rearranging,
But only re-hinging the door,
And remounting it on the frame.

No shame, no blame,
It’s only the pattern again
That will continue
Until it’s done.

It’s certainly no fun
But no battle to be won,
Nay, only a course to be followed
For as long as there is one.

Casket: Notes from Underground

I struggled through my meditation today,
If that’s what it was,
For it felt, sorrowful and pointless
Like everything else.

The darkness is so dark at present
I think what rubbish practice is,
But then reflect upon
The glimmers of light that I have seen.

In the darkness,
Flashes of hope
Dance across my mind,
Tantalizingly close.

These fragile bursts do not last long, however,
But sometimes it’s all I have,
Like someone who’s been buried
Under a mountain for so long,

Even the idea of outside
Is beyond recollection,
Yet the seeds of remembrance
Remain intact.

Thus, when a sound breaks through
From far above,
A rockslide or an avalanche perhaps,
Triggered by the warming sun,

This event stirs a long forgotten memory,
Or by some instinct, the listener,
Hearkens towards the sound,
Yearning for light and fresh air.

Then soon the seeking mind
Begins anew,
The search to find
A way out resumes.

Case: Seeking the Ground

The dullness continues
And so does the pain,
It felt so overwhelming
When I meditated today.

I’ve had such a long run
Of things to be done,
I had to skip my supper
To catch up on my meditation.

It’s so ridiculous
To be so meticulous,
And so confused
About what to do next.

So I pause to do this
And hope for improvements,
I ache all over
And wait for relief.

Meanwhile I cut my finger
On the garbage bin,
And had to delay my supper again
To stop the bleeding.

This endless stream
When will it end?
Thoughts are still flying
As the stew is cooking.

I ought to keep looking
And investigate what’s happening,
But I’m so distracted
My attention has been subtracted.

If I can only break the attraction
And see this distraction,
I can take the right action
To obtain the best outcome.

Carry out: Dull and Sharp

The bats have flown
To be replaced by air;
I looked all over
But could find none there.

I held my posture
But could find no rest
My mind was absent at best
And so too was any zest.

I sat without enthusiasm
But not a muscle spasmed,
Not an eye twitched,
Nor did anything itch.

All was quiet on the floor
Nothing more mundane could I see,
Nor did I see more,
Naught was the score.

Yet all was perfect
As before,
Just different,
And new.

What else could I do,
But enjoy it and carry on?
Though when I moved,
My legs were very stiff and sore.

I did not anticipate
Such an outcome
From such a dull session;
That’ll teach me I suppose,
For expecting such concessions
From causes and conditions!

Carry on: Observing Bats

The bats flap about
Inside my mind,
Agitated, unsettled,
Seeking my blood.

I sit amidst the chaos,
The acrid smell of guano
Fills the air,
And I wrinkle my nose.

But I will not deny them,
Nor will I flee
From the beating wings,
Or the high-pitched cries.

I hold my posture
And look straight ahead,
Peering through
The multitudinous throng.

Patiently, gently, compassionately,
I watch and wait,
For the fluttering
To decrease,

With no expectation
That it will cease,
But only that
My equanimity will increase,

And that resting with
The turmoil,
I will learn to
Befriend the host.

For only from inside,
From the centre
Of the swarm,
Can I find peace.

Carriage: Sitting with Pain

A peaceful interlude,
During which to work on sitting well.
My practice revolved around posture
And how to balance that with pain.

I had gotten caught on fiddling
To see if I could reduce it,
But this wedged me into it further,
And yet I did not want to ignore it.

How can I reconcile these two:
Not to make the pain worse
Or increase my discomfort
But not to obsess on it either?

For when I focused on comfortable posture
I got caught on pain,
Then couldn’t get off it,
And this discouraged me from sitting.

Today I had an idea:
To neither deny my condition
Nor give in to it
Or get stuck on it.

I sat and repeated my resolve
And set about getting settled,
Then I thought it again
And began my sitting.

Keeping my mind on holding my pose
I reiterated my intention,
And found that this invention
Helped me achieve my goal.

My attention fixed on posture
Tackled the pain in two ways:
One by maintaining a good position
And the other by concentration.

Cargo: Baggage Handling

Caught on rage,
Mind goes spinning,
But at least
I noticed it today.
For yesterday,
When some bad news
Tripped this bout of ire,
I overlooked the cues
And behaved foolishly.

This pm, I got high on concentration,
And then saw what that was for:
It covered over a bonfire so large
That when I peeked beneath the carpet,
I was pulled under and into the flames.

All the fires are lit again today,
They burn so hotly
They block out the sun.
No friendliness here,
But only aversion
To perceived threats.

Tension and hate:
No charity resides
In this precinct;
No kindness, no wisdom neither
Penetrates this inferno
Of loathing and disgust;
Common sense goes bust
In the face of this vengeful lust,
This vindictive pattern.

But this is where wisdom comes in:
I can see the pattern,
And that’s the beginning
Of it’s end.
If calmly, I can meet this blaze
I can defeat it, again and again,
Until it’s gone for good.

Careless: Mind All Over the Place

I woke up feeling stressed about all I need to do, and having lots of diffuse aches and pains. I’ve been waking up too early every day lately, and it’s uncanny that every morning at around this time there’s always an ambulance or fire engine, or police siren. And so, the current pattern is that between my body, my mind, and the sirens, I finally give up on sleep, get out of bed, and make a cup of coffee. Then I have trouble deciding what to have for breakfast.

Today, I decided to do a mindfulness exercise and ask what that felt like. I felt tired and irritated that I’ve decided to reduce the strength of my coffee as I’m really attached to this stuff, but it makes me jittery. This seems foolish, given I know it’s a good thing, but it’s become such a ritual. I suppose I shall have to find another one to replace it. What does it do for me? It allows me to procrastinate mostly; so, doing a sitting in the morning strikes me as the most obvious alternative.

But I digress. Back to breakfast. There are two options basically. One is lighter, the other heavier, and it’s a cold day. More procrastination probably, and I suspect, a resistance to getting started. What does this resistance feel like?

And then it occurred to me to do my stretching exercises. More digression? I did them anyway, getting kind of bored towards the end. It’s beginning to look like I don’t want to know what anything feels like today. Oh well, so much for investigating what’s happening now. Maybe I just don’t want to be here. Ah, that’s probably it. Can I investigate that? Or is that too tedious, as well?

(Pauses to check. Sips coffee instead.) Hmm. The coffee tastes better all of a sudden. Earlier it tasted bland. I find it amazing how the same cup of coffee can taste differently on different days, and even the same cup on the same day. Oh, but I forgot, of course it’s never the same, and neither is this collection of sensations, feelings and thoughts, and whatever else that is drinking it, whatever it is. Or, maybe the instant coffee powder just sinks to the bottom; so, there’s more to taste as the water goes down.

It looks like I’m not keen to find out what’s going on here this morning. I guess this is an example of avoiding the present moment, but I suppose I need to get to know that too. What does this feel like? —Unpleasant, certainly.

Meanwhile, aha! –Soft boiled eggs and toast, definitely. Peace at last, at least temporarily!

Careful: Folding Laundry into My Practice

Okay, so I am in this horribly depressed, despondent mood again. This time, I started to zone out, but I decided it would be more interesting to see what goes on; so, I persuaded myself to stick around and see what I could see.

What I saw going on mentally was incredibly boring and trite, which made me understand why I wouldn’t want to stay awake for it. There was something else, however, which was that I spontaneously got up and started folding my laundry, and I could see that somehow this was part of the pattern too, because I didn’t get distracted at all by this activity from what was going on in my mind.

But then, I got distracted by what was going on in my mind, and began feeding the negative thoughts, although I was sufficiently aware to not get caught up in the thoughts themselves. Then I noticed this, stopped feeding the thoughts, and the laundry folding resumed until it was done.

In spite of the down mood, there was this restlessness, this refusal to give up, underneath which I found a stubborn optimism that just won’t lay down, and sometimes seems to result in unrealistic expectations. What am I to do with this perfectionism?

There’s so much to do, and yet there’s nothing to do. There’s nothing that can be done, and yet everything that can be done is being done already, because everything is working perfectly already, just as it is. The mind insists that something must be done until everything is perfect, and yet everything is unfolding just exactly the way it’s supposed to. The mind never gives up trying to fix things; so, we have to give it meaningful work to do, such as meditation, mindfulness, careful attention and kindness in all our activities. On the other hand, folding laundry can be pretty good too! LOL.

If I put forth my best effort in whatever I do, and believe that, all things considered, I am putting forth my best effort, then the mind will be satisfied with everything I do, and everything will indeed proceed perfectly, regardless of the results. Perhaps this is the reason that the intentions behind our actions are emphasized in Buddhism—this tendency of mind to want to do the right thing, always. Tall order, huh? (Pauses to fold another load.)

Jack Kornfield wrote a book called, After the Ecstasy, the Laundry. My conclusion: sometimes the laundry is the ecstasy.

Capture: Untangling Snakes

In a state of dejection, I tried to cheer myself up by directing my attention to my past accomplishments, but as usually happens when I try to do this, I thought, ‘well, so what, what difference does that make?’ This time, however, something else happened as well. I thought, ‘putting aside for the moment whether or not they matter, think of them anyway,’ and so I did.

For me, this was breakthrough, to be able to separate out the two threads of the depressed state and the accomplishments.

But later on, I was able to take it a step further, realizing that of course I am rubbishing my accomplishments, because this is how people think when they are feeling really down. To expect to be thinking otherwise would be just silly; these downer thoughts are completely normal for someone in an intensely blue mood.

Thus, I was able to separate out the mood from the accomplishments and the negative thoughts, to put the depression on the back burner, so to speak, and accept the legitimacy of the accomplishments, aside from whether or not they are of any use, which only time will reveal as I make various attempts to pursue whatever goals I may set for myself.

This distinction may seem small, but for me, and anyone who’s ever really got caught up in a black mood, it’s huge, and makes the difference between having a really rotten night and at least a mildly pleasant one.

So, I had a hot soak in the tub, which eased my mind and body, decreasing my physical and mental aches and pains for a while. It should be noted that one of the important advantages of being present for the unpleasant moments is that you get to be present for the pleasant ones as well. Another benefit of observing closely those occasions when we feel all is well is that it helps us realize when things look awful to us that this view too is produced by temporary processes that will not last.

I still have a long way to go, I imagine, but a little bit of light has been generated this night, and I record my progress herein to remind myself and anyone else who’s interested of how this practice can gradually uncover all our doings and un-doings; how we can come to see and break-up and sort the tangled ball of snakes squirming and churning around inside us.

Campaign: Looking from the Moment

And so, I sat down to supper listening to an audio talk, but found that I was extremely restless, too restless to think of the talk. Irritated, I decided to stop the audio, put my supper aside and investigate this state.

When I did, I found so much pain in my body. I was aching all over, in fact, to such a degree that I decided I needed to lie down for a minute. When I did that, however, all kinds of fear relating to and hatred of my situation came up, which led to my feeling quite depressed and discouraged.

Then I decided to get up and write down a description of all that I was experiencing. As I read it over the thought came to me that I had heard that that late Ajahn Chah, a renowned Thai Theravada Buddhist teacher had said something to the effect that if you can formulate the question, you know the answer. At that moment, it occurred to me that there was a question implied in my description, and I asked myself what it was and waited for the question to arise.

After a short while, the question that came up was: “How do I do this?” I surmised that this meant, how do I cope with or handle or go forward, considering the situation and what I am feeling about it. When I asked myself the question, my mind stopped, as if it was caught on the question, or did not know how to answer it. Then, without thinking, I got up and ate my supper. Soon after, it suddenly hit me that getting up and eating my supper was the answer to the question.

Later that night when I went for a walk, as it was a Saturday night there were a lot of people, and I dislike crowds; so, I got really tense. I asked “How do I do this?” and the next thing that came to mind was “What’s happening,” by which I think I meant, everywhere simultaneously in this moment. My mind stopped again. All boundaries between myself and everything else seemed to disappear, and I relaxed. Now it was just a beautiful evening for a walk, and everything was okay just the way it was, crowds and all.

Afterwards, upon reflection I felt that the questions and the answers had both come from the same place. The questions had given me points of reference or comparison against which I was able to see from whence the answers had arisen, that is, from the source, from everything, everywhere simultaneously in this moment.

Camp: Break

What a breath of fresh air
To sit around the circle
Once more,
The breath comes in,
The breath goes out.

Expanding the view,
It’s much better there,
To forget this tiny bit
And get unstuck
From this crazy glue
Is like a cold drink
On a really hot day:
It’s such a relief
To cool down for a while.

Camouflage: Instability

Restlessness in the morning;
It wakes me up,
And sends tremors
Through me.

It’s like an itch
That makes me pace
My mind race;
It’s a kind of dissatisfaction.

I long to move
But don’t know where to go.
Is there something going on?
Or is this just a habit?

I decided to stop,
Hold still for a moment,
In a standing posture,
But then my restlessness vanished.

There was only
Tiredness and fogginess,
And a desire to rest.
How can this be?
What is happening here?

And then I sat,
And there it was again:
That irritating prickle,
From which I shrink.

This too came and went,
And then there was
Just breath,
But this was not the end.

Insistent intrusive thoughts emerged,
Followed by absorption in rumination
On various aspects of my situation,
Until I surfaced once more for the last few minutes.

Calmly: Feelings

Pleasant feelings
Are so sweet,
But they don’t stay
They are so fleet of foot.

There’s no use mourning
Their imminent departure,
For then we miss out
On the rapture.

It’s best to be with them
While they’re present,
Like close friends
We enjoy them while we have them.

But the same can be said
For other emotions:
We can learn to make room for
And welcome all of them.

Even though we may find some unpleasant,
Others barely come to our attention:
We fail to notice them
Unless they grow in intensity.

Other feelings can be so extreme
They can bewilder,
Make us shudder and shiver,
But then suddenly disappear.

Emotions are as short-lived
As sunsets and sunrises;
Like chalk sidewalk paintings,
They are washed away when the rain arrives.

Pleasant feelings don’t last,
But luckily
Unpleasant ones don’t either; however,
You can’t have one kind without the other.

Calm: Peaceful Interlude

At the end of my tumultuous day
I sat in meditation for a while,
But I had trouble settling at first
Having sciatica pain aback both legs.

But then I realized after much fiddling
That the pain was the same
Whether standing or sitting,
So I might as well relax into the burning.

Thus, I directed the bulk of my attention
Away from the discomfort
And focused on my breathing,
With the result that my distress lessened.

Then much to my surprise
An amazing bliss arose
Before my tired eyes,
A remarkable joy, like a beautiful sunrise.

Memories arose at the edge of my consciousness
Of long ago boat rides on shining waters,
Golden sunsets against green hills,
And the rocky shores of the Muskoka lakes.

I knew this pleasure would be short-lived,
But determined to enjoy it nevertheless,
And I marveled once more
At how potent these fleeting feelings can be.

And as soon as I had settled in,
My bell then rang
To signal the end of this
Precious pause.

I sat a while longer anyway,
And arose only slowly from my place
To resume my activities,
But at a much gentler pace.

Calculate: The Way to Liberation . . . Perhaps

Today dawned clear
But the swells were up,
I shivered in the bottom of
My little boat,
As it tossed and turned
Like a restless sleeper.

I too could find no rest
From my doubts and worries,
And although I considered what plan was best
I accomplished little,
And in utter frustration
Finally abandoned my tasks.

Now, once again the sun has set
And I’m drying out my clothes
That the sea has wet,
And watching the gulls circling overhead.

In addition to these ordinary chores,
I listened to some audio dharma talks once more,
And obtained some reassurance from
The words of wisdom I encountered there.

The way through to the end of suffering,
It’s been said,
Is to traverse the suffering itself,
And this observation confirms what I’ve discovered.

I had spent the day wrestling with
One of my old patterns of reacting,
And reached the same conclusion
From that experience.

And so, I confront this sobering fact
That I can’t go forward until I get unstuck
From the painful feelings that keep recurring,
But once I do that and they pass on through,
I’ll be on my way across the bonnie blue.

Cake: Faith in my Doubt

Sailing on oceans of doubt,
Where do they lead,
These seemingly endless seas?
Words of comfort are what I need.

Words of encouragement
To the lost traveler,
Where will I find them?
I so pine for them.

I have no answers,
So I set my sail,
Tack into the wind,
And watch the albatross soaring overhead.

The sun is setting
And the waves are settling.
I wrap myself in my comforter
And eat my evening meal.

The colours of the dropping sun
Against the horizon
Cheer my heart,
And somehow I feel better for a time.

My mind unwinds,
And all my cares are
Carried away
Upon the swells.

The salt air scent
Fills my nostrils
And I sigh,
Drinking in the sights.

Seaweed floats by,
Dorsal fins break the water
As the dolphins circle and play
Around my tiny craft.
All is well.

Cage: Let me out!

To sit with uncertainty and doubt:
This seems to be my occupation these days.
What a job description,
I’m working on commission:
I only get paid if I get results.

But what results?
I’m up and down
So fast
It makes me dizzy.

I catch myself falling
To the bottom,
And ask what hit me.
What could it be?

Conditions, I surmise,
But which ones?
There are so many possibilities.
I watch one set of outcomes after another.

I always seem to miss the triggers,
And then get lost in the thicket
Of thoughts, feelings and tensions,
Until I’m crazy with distractions.

Then, I suddenly remember,
And ask what’s the matter.
It’s only phenomena arising,
Past traces with which I’m identifying.

Nevertheless, it’s the walls I’ve been climbing,
Like a vine twisting and winding,
Finding places to practice clinging,
Though surely I need no more of that,
For clearly I’m an expert already!

Cadence: Fits and Starts

Hanging on by my fingernails
But work is holding me up:
As long as I keep working
I keep going.

Lately I’ve been down in the mouth,
But resting in the dark
I remembered past meditations
That were wonderful.

I realized over the past few years
I’ve made some beautiful memories:
What’s happening now isn’t just about now,
It’s good or bad for later too.

Thus, if I pay attention to now
And attend to this moment,
I can make better tomorrows.
What do I want tomorrow to be like?

But then I sank into sadness again,
Thinking of the dark side of the past.
Just then, however, duty called
And work brought me up again.

My life’s raft
Is Pulled up and down
By the waves,
And they drag on for days.

To go up
One has to go down,
To go forward is
To rise and fall again.

I’m getting seasick now,
But I’ll get my sea legs yet,
And perhaps one day tell
Entertaining tales about
How arduous it all was.

Buzz: Existential Saucepans

Another day
Another stew
A different flavour
A lighter shade of blue

Free to be
And not free,
In this moment
And flowing

Knowing
And not knowing,
Taking sides
But not sure

All of this makes
Assembling ingredients
And adding them,
Slicing vegetables
And seasoning the pot
Seem so pleasing.

It’s such a relief to
Just cook and eat,
Wash the dishes,
And brush my teeth,
After trying to understand
What’s beneath everything.

Between the lines
Is difficult to fathom,
But I can’t seem
To stop trying.

I tie myself in existential knots,
And recover from
The resulting madness by
Washing some more pots.

Buttress: Companionship to the Rescue

What turned the tide
Turned out to be
Someone else in trouble
Who needed me.

In order to help
I had to pull myself up;
It’s remarkable how
That magic works out.

As soon as one cries for aid
Someone has to rise to the occasion,
Who better than one
In a similar condition.

Together we hauled each other out
Then celebrated by breaking bread.
We cooked and talked
And ate until we felt well fed.

Sometimes mindfulness is required.
But in other situations
Companionship is indicated
It can be just what’s needed.

I wasn’t looking
In that direction,
Nor was it something
I was expecting.

What to make of it?
Perhaps it’s just
Another form of practice,
Neither original,
Nor miraculous,
A simple solution,
As close as the phone,
And just as practical.

Bust-up: Holding Pattern

Clueless still and tired of temporary fixes;
Only the deathless will do,
But compassion is still needed
To manage my ire.

The fire burns higher today
But the spirit is low.
I’ve nowhere but up to go,
Or, at least I hope so.

How far down can I go?
I’m not sure I want to know,
And how will I know?
And when will I bounce back?

It’s so discouraging,
I need encouraging,
But from where will that come?
Or, can I do it on my own?

More questions than answers,
More doubt and fear.
Will a rescuer appear?
Or, will my misery simply disappear?

Meanwhile,
I’ve made my stew
And eaten it,
Washed the dishes,
And cleaned the sink.
I’ve brushed my teeth,
And combed my hair,
Laundered the clothes
And stowed them.

And now I wait for
I know not what.
How will I recognize it
When I see it?

Bursting: How will I ever be free?

And the answer is:
If I cling to
The point of view
That all is lost,
Then all is lost.

If I see tragedy all around me,
And identify with that,
This is the strategy
That will generate
The most suffering.

If, on the other hand
I attach to a different perspective,
For example,
One of the triumph of
The human spirit,
And identify with that,
I will obtain some
Temporary relief
From my pain,
But will still not end
My suffering.

Ideally, I need to
Let go of both,
But perhaps
To do so all at once
Is too much.

Until then,
I’m still stuck on
Loss and gain,
And so it shall remain,
For the time being.

There’s no use fleeing;
I will just have to
Go on hoping to be seeing
Clearly again soon.

Burst: Through the Pipes

Every now and again,
It seems,
It’s time to take a sojourn
And grieve my lost dreams.

Music brought it on tonight,
And meditation didn’t quell the riot,
But merely opened the gate
To let the hate pass through it.

Nevertheless, finally I had to resort to
Pedaling madly on my exercise bike
To diffuse the spite,
The charging malice.

Still, I really felt belted,
As acid rains pelted,
Melting my heart down as they fell;
The tale of past betrayals is hard to tell.

As the music played on,
The clouds were suddenly gone.
Relief followed the cloudburst,
And laughter replaced the angry outburst.

The power of feelings is amazing;
They are so draining,
But so fleeting;
No long-term happiness is in them.

Emotions can be so blinding,
Making us forget what we are doing,
And if we act upon them,
It can lead to our undoing.

Yet, no matter how much I try
Every time these feelings intensify
I get lost and want to flee
It’s enough to scare even me.
How will I ever be free?

Burrow: Back to the Barn

So many things
I’d like to do,
And so much else
I have to do;
I’m back in that mess
I guess.

From replacing mattresses
To upgrading computers;
Repairing clothes (to make my budget stretch),
To baking forgotten delicacies,
To tax returns,
And miscellaneous housekeeping chores . . .

My mind is always
Running ahead of my hands.
It’s continuous effort around here,
And yet my restlessness never stops.

The ox plods onward,
Until fatigue knocks it down again.
Then the yoke flies off,
And it’s out to pasture to rest for a time,
But all too soon,
It’s back to pulling the plough once more.

But enough of this pastoral metaphor,
For here it’s cityscapes and urban scenes,
A shoe box in the sky is what I live in.
I’d love to sleep in greener spaces,
But this is the place I’m currently stabled.

It’s been so long since
I’ve been out of the city
That I wonder if I’d even fit in
With my country cousins,
Though I still miss them anyway.

And so, meanwhile, it’s back to work, back to work
Until . . . whenever.

Burnish: Polishing the Future

The odd thing is
That since I’ve recovered from
My latest bout of physical illness,
My taste for practice has dimmed somewhat.

Tis peculiar because
It got me through it so well,
Or so I concluded then.

Is it boredom I feel?
Discouragement?
Or what?

I feel I need
A change of scene,
And as it so happens
I already identified one:
A meditation centre to investigate.

I had planned to visit sooner,
But my gastro-disaster
Prevented me from trying it,
And now I’m so far behind
On everything,
I never know when or if
I’ll get there.

What am I to make of
These setbacks?
I expect it’s best not to;
For, if I do, that might
Weigh me down more.
And thus I see how powerful
Thinking can be,
And how equally so is not thinking.
Refraining from constructing meaning
From these disparate pieces,
May spare me suffering,
Or, at least,
From a desolation of my own devising.