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.