Gauging: Practice Adjustments

I have learned
Through direct experience,
The pitfalls
Of certain practices

When practicing mental seclusion
From greed and distress
Towards the world,
One must be on guard

For even from within the ensuing steadiness,
Equanimity and apparent clearheadedness,
Into the mind that is new to this
Enters most profound deludedness

What at first appears to be happiness,
Enthusiasm and openhandedness
May turn out to be thirst
Towards worldly passions or worse!

And to this one needs bring mindfulness,
Investigation and analysis:
Determining what is really happening
And dispelling delusion with wisdom

Recalling to mind the consequences
Of following the wrong way:
That which leads to bad outcomes,
One well travelled, now to be abandoned

This constant rememberance appears essential,
To not forget that which is fundamental:
That succumbing to unhealthy desires
Is how this samsara wheel got started

It is crucial to not be fooled,
Not be taken in once again
The remedy being constant practice
With insight into delusion
As well as concentration resulting in seclusion

Gamut: From Cloudburst to Trickle

Peeling carrots,
Baking bread,
Doing laundry,
Mending cloth;
These activities and more!

A burst of energy
Driving me on,
Until after two
In the morning

Cloudburst of action
Ensued without warning,
Where it came from
I do not know

But naturally
As it does,
The dynamic uno
Ceases to flow

And so today,
I'm dragging myself around:
Watching the rain dripping down
Instead of pouring it

Yet somehow still,
I made the stew
Vacuumed some of the carpet
And prepared to do more laundry

Albeit at a slower pace
But what's the rush?
Okay, yes, there is much to do,
But this is always so

Tis a marathon
Not a sprint,
A round-the-world tour
Not a one block jaunt

Galvanize: Metta Renewal

But then now
I return to metta,
But metta
Of a different sort

I intone:
"May I be free
From
Greed and distress towards the world."

And for a while
At least,
Am a diner at a feast
Of tranquility and equanimity

Every time I stray
From the thought for the day,
I bring my mind back
To these eleven words

These thirteen precious syllables
That quiet my thirst,
That burst the bloated bubble
Of the self-centered trouble

Not egolessness
But restraint,
Lacking the taint
Of the defiled world

No smell of rot,
No desperate clawing fingers
Scratching the bottom
Of the empty pot

The din of desires
is silent for a jot;
The difference is:  quite a lot!
And I continue to practice diligently
With it all day long

Gallery: Way Too Much

And furthermore,
Yesterday
Helped someone else
Get some paperwork put away

Now today,
Maybe time to catch up
On my paperwork backup
Of which there is quite a stack up

There never is a lack of
Mounds of paper to pack up,
To sort through
And rack up

It's an endless task
That never goes by too fast,
Full of many days past
Yet guaranteed not to last

I do my best,
To clean up this mess
Which never seems to lessen
No matter how much time I spend on it

The piles ever growing,
Clipped back like hedges
That then keep sprouting
Until cut down once again

How like samsara,
Which keeps rolling
Around in circles
And repeating

All actions
Requiring reactions,
All reactions
Necessitating more actions;
Time and change unceasing

Gallant: Cultivating Seclusion

Cultivating seclusion
From
Greed and distress
Towards the world

This is the recurring theme,
The current scheme
Around which
I organized today's activities

How does one
Seclude the mind
From craving such delights
As a bowl of gourmet stew?

When filthy pesky pigeons
Rudely intrude, getting in the way,
How does one seclude the mind
From greed and distress?

(And these occurrences
Are mere perturbances,
Minor day-to-day irritations,
Not even major catastrophic cataclysms!)

It's impossible of course
But having accepted that as well,
One is free to carry on,
Benefiting now and in the long term

These actions requiring much effort,
Nevertheless provide much temporary relief
From the daily grief
Of plodding through this flawed world

And this work may herald
Further gains:
Freedom from imperfection;
The end of samsaric bane

Gale: Blown Away

Well, I made it through
Various tasks,
In spite of many missteps,
Only to be sidetracked by
Other people's mistakes

No happy medium
Between drowsiness
And nervous wreck,
Mind running amok

Thoughts, sensations,
Wildly plunging
Mishmash
Downpour, splash

Imperfection reigns,
Even when rains
Turn into reins
There are no gains

Falling back?
Or return to normal?
No time to examine now,
Not even tomorrow!

Meanwhile, a scramble
With a howl and a grumble
I bumble and stumble
Trying to keep up

Much of what I planned to do
Is unlikely
Rather than accomplishing a lot
I carry on just slightly 

Quickly!  Quickly!
Run!  Run!
I really have to hurry now
To get anything done

Gainsay: Sideswiped by Insight

"Misery is back," I wrote
While I was lying in bed
But I had no pen or paper then
And so I lost that thread

Twas likely the best bit of poetry
I'd written for a long while
Thus on top of all
I had this to regret

But I had no time to waste
On this busy day
With too much to do
And behind schedule already

I had to be steady
Even though I felt wobbly,
Had to keep going
Although it was slow

Completing my tasks
With little enthusiasm,
Pushing through a wall of fatigue,
Feeling too hot in this unseasonable heat

But finally I pause
To consider the nature of the world,
Examining the conditioned phenomena
For signs of what I saw before

Is it there anymore?
Or was that just a dream,
Another state of mind?
Of course it was!

That's all I see:
Imperfect shadows,
Flashes of light;
Sideswiped by insight

Gains: Losing to Win

'Hmm, I thought,
These recent poems
Are not as good
As the previous lot'

'And yet
Everything is okay
Because nothing is okay;'
I laughed at this thought

And when I saw
The imperfection of this laughter,
I laughed even harder
And so on, and on

Perhaps my writing
Poetry days
Are numbered
But what of it?

This new "happiness"
(I shall call it that for now
For lack of a better word)
Might be worth it

A belly laugh every minute
Might well be
A good replacement
For the usual emotional basement

Who cares about scaling
Linguistic sky scrapers
When one is already
Breathing freedom's vapours

What use is scribbling all day
As compared to laughing at dismay,
Smiling at disarray,
Shrugging off distress
Knowing all is okay because nothing is!

Gain: Getting There

Impurity abounds
And yet
Perhaps imperfect knowledge
Is better than no

Even though
Insight be flawed
Maybe this too is
Better than naught

Even if
We cannot see clearly,
The seeing is incomplete
The sense organs defiled;

The fact we know
A little
And that by that knowledge
We should not be overawed

Possibly such insight
However suspect
Is better than
Having none at all

Even though in twilight we walk
Often not even knowing
Whether or not we stumble,
Let alone on what!

This may be all we've got
But perhaps this faint illumination
So urgently sought
Is really quite a lot

Imperfectly perceived
Imperfectly comprehended
Nevertheless a blessing to those who find it,
As well as to those who haven't yet

Fuzzy: Not Sure

More imperfection today?
Oh yes, it never stops
And with it a rabbit hops,
Another leap of insight:

If all is imperfect
Then, so is practice
And so is any insight gained
Or any enjoyment obtained

How can one make a mistake
When all is mistaken?
I laughed and observed (imperfectly)
How flawed the laughter;

How imperfect is the sound
How impure the contact with the ear
How defiled the sensation arising therefrom
How deficient the sense organ

And then a non-sensation
Within the world of sensation,
Or is it apart from it?
And is that too imperfect?

Is that merely another dhamma:
Just a filthy conditioned phenomenon
In a stagnant murky pool
In a snake infested swamp?

Of that I am uncertain
But regardless of the cause,
Notwithstanding its nature,
It is a pleasant feature

It is so quiet there,
So free of any disturbance,
So still, so calm
But so indeterminate
I'm not sure what it is

Furthest Yet: Over the Top!

There was noise
Quite a lot of noise,
Not unusual
At this time of year

While I waited
For 11 p.m. to occur
I tried a guided meditation
By myself, for myself

I focused on the aversion
On this occasion,
Asked if I could use it
To propel myself away from the world

I considered the world,
The imperfection of the world
Broke it down
To all its elements

Analyzed it down
To all the senses,
Contact at the senses,
The sense organs and the sensory processes;

All thinking
And all types of awareness;
The form of the body
And the form of the world:

The endless fruitless cycle
That repeats
And leads to nothing
But more of the same

Instructed myself
Not to take up any of it,
Not in any way;
And so passed the time
And then carried on with determination

Furthermore: Nonperfection and Beyond

When perfection
Is pursued
Your mind
You undelude

For you
Come to see
It's attainment
Is an impossibility

Therefore
You are not
Fooled
By mutton dressed up as lamb

You do not
Conclude
That too good to be true
Can be had

You don't
Fall for ads
That promise
Perfect abs

You do not envy
Those
Who win lotteries
Or own big homes

You know that
That way
Does not perfect
The wayward world

You cannot fix
This wonky wheel
The way to deal with Samsara
Is to abandon it!

Fundamentals: Imperfection to Nonperfection

Practicing perfection
I remain
Concentrated upon
Imperfection

And today
I am
Truly blessed
With myriad imperfections

Nausea
Fatigue
A migraine headache
Of considerable intensity

Gloomy weather
Damp and rainy
Slate grey sky
Clouds churning by

Pain in the shoulders
Pain in the head
So much to do
And I'd rather be in bed

This imperfection
So easy to find
It's a wonder
I did not see it before

It fills up
My awareness
Til I see
Nothing more

And then finally,
I smile
As I rest in nonperfection
For a while