Extemporize: Ouchie!

Pain, pain, pain
That old recurring theme again,
From a too warm spring
That nature did fling
At my aging body and mind,

Oh, achy me,
Sleeping badly,
Waking up frequently
And groaning with discomfort,

How long will this last?
Will it ever end?
Same old questions,
Feel like a slave to this afflicted carcass,

Dragging it around,
Like a ton of bricks,
Should have been a bricklayer
Then maybe I’d know how to get aligned,

But for now,
Try to put some positive spin
On this no-win,
Until I can get home, wherever that is,

Taking extra medication
Got me to sleep in,
What a relief that was,
Although only temporary,

Fatigue still dogs me,
All day long,
Exhausting effort,
To keep everything going,

Preparing green tea
With fresh ginger sliced,
Hoping the infusion
Will this discomfort reduce.

Extemporaneous: Delightful

Washing the milk pitcher
And smiling a lot,
Swirling the water
As it bubbles up,

Playing with it
And having fun,
Breezing through
This regular chore as never before,

Never before
And never again,
Making milk from the powder
And stirring it with aplomb

But then after I’d completed
Preparing my supper,
Felt too tired and hungry
To do my work out first, as I normally do

And then thinking,
How does this dovetail
With my lightened mood?
‘But, does it have to I asked?

What makes me think
It has to make sense?
What makes me think
That anything does?

Why does everything
Have to connect?
Does life have to make sense?
Does everything have to add up?

And what if it doesn’t?
Should I be upset?—Gracious, no!
For if so, that would only create more suffering.’
But after all that, I exercised anyway!
And what of the subsequent supper, eaten with hunger?—Completely delicious!

Extant: Happiness

As I began to chop
A sweet potato,
I suddenly had an experience
Most indescribable,

That I was just chopping
This sweet potato
And that nothing else
Was going on,

That there was no Buddha,
No enlightenment
And no thought of such,
Nor any knowledge of such,

Nay, there was only
Chopping a sweet potato,
Just as ordinary
As it is,

With nothing on top,
Just a la carte,
Just as it is,
As it had always been,
Before I’d ever heard of this Dharma stuff

And yet,
It was quite different,
In a way
But in no way
That I could discern

‘But whatever it was,’
I thought to myself,
As I moved on to my next task,
‘If only it could always be this way,
Whatever that way is,
That would be it, just as it is,
Absolutely completely, just as it is.’
But as soon as I saw this, I lost it again.