End of the Road

Dear friends:

Well, I guess my time is up as they've finally switched formats on here, and so unless I get a new computer and a faster connection, which is not likely in the cards on my current income, I'm probably out of here.

I'm very sorry about that and I'll miss it too.

Thanks for reading.

Lee

Finding: September Afternoon

I had a heck of a day!
First off, some commotion at 1:24 a.m.
By some hallway buffoons, got me riled
So that, I had trouble settling down to sleep
then woke up exhausted, feeling bushed

What got me into this funk
Was my high speed Internet access
Having gone plunk (along with my laptop)
And although this happened quite a while ago
The consequences keep piling up

When I turn on the radio, wanting the weather
Just as often as not, I have to wade through
An enormous amount of blather
Or a stream of bad news about events
In which I have no part and cannot fix

And so, while I was lying around in bed
Thinking of this instead
What came to me twas
That once I'd had the phone number of the weather office
In my old datebooks

'But where did I stow these?' I wondered
And immediately, I arose to search
Having found one, I tried the number
And was amazed to discover
That it still worked!

To heck with
The Weather Network!
And forget the radio
All I have to do
Is phone this number

And now, having gotten up
After some more reflection
I determined to go out and get some more milk
As the previous day I'd noticed
It was on sale

And so, although
I still felt much exhausted
I set off
I even made it to another store
But the pharmacy was closed there

But on the cobblestones outside
I spied
Those pesky pigeons
Wandering about
From side-to-side

I singled one out
And followed it around
Making it so nervous
It kept spinning its head around
Eying its pursuer

Perhaps figuring out
Whether this
Signified a threat
Or
A Pending hand out

Then, all  in a muddle
It came across a puddle
And stopped to take a drink
Maybe in an attempt
To calm down

Eventually someone else
Came too close
And the pigeon took flight
And landed on a safer roost
Ruining my game

Nevertheless I watched it a while
As it began to clean up its feathers
Probably having forgotten
All about me
And considering other matters

Then I turned towards home
But wound up sitting on
A metal bench
Next to an artificial
(Built of concrete) waterfall

It was pleasant and peaceful there
And in the trees I saw many Monarch butterflies
Flapping about in the breeze
Reminding me of their annual migration southward
Flying home to a place they've never been before!

Then after
A time
A grey squirrel came trotting along
Likely a descendent
Of the original proprietor, or so I thought

Then looking down
I spied a tiny ant carrying an enormous burden
I watched it struggle until it successfully maneuvered
This great white something-or-other
Down its ant hole

Presently, a custodian came along
And told me
I had to leave
So that he
Could close the gate

Hence the end of my wandering
When I would be able to
Tear myself away from this lovely scene
And get on home to make supper, do my work out
Stow my purchases (not necessarily in that order)

 And so, the end of a perfect day
And, I think,
'Yes, I could do with,
Some more of this!
My first September off in decades!'

And as for tomorrow's mission folks
I think I need to get some stamps
And post a letter
And maybe shop more
Since I never did make it into the pharmacy door!

Fantastic: Recovery Mode

My mind is slowly clearing
After years of cluttering,
Of stress-filled days
And busy nights

This is the first September
That I remember
When I wasn't
Toiling away

I've long imagined
Such a time,
Looked for and wondered
When and what that would be like

And now here I am
Soaking up the scenery,
Observing and absorbing
With astonishment and pride

Experiencing that which
I worked as long for,
Resting in it
And Just plain resting!

Noticing my thoughts
That based on the slowed pace
Are so much more ordered
And obvious

Thinking unclogging,
Creative pores opening
Experimenting on improving
All my efforts

With all attention and energy available
To bring to this endeavour
and any others
That I may undertake

Fallible: When Fast is Slow

Soft boiled eggs
When cracked open for eating
Can make a mess
By running all over

Rushing through breakfast
Because I'm late
But speeding up does not help
In fact, creating this mess to clean up!

Mind you, this egg-yellow run
Happens quite often
and yet I've never known
Just how it's done

Nor do I comprehend why it occurs
Some days
But others
It does not

But today
I suddenly had an idea:
Why not wait a bit?
After cracking each egg, leave the cap on

Because then, I reasoned,
Heat will harden
The soft inside
And when unlidded the contents won't run

Thus, after cracking the shell
With a knife, I waited;
(But not sure what I did while I waited
Because I went to the compute afterwards
And found a virus)

How frequently this happens:
When I'm on the go
That I try to speed up
And my fast is slow

Fall To: Keep Moving

The Fibro-attack returns
And, oh, how my chest burns!
My shoulders ache,
Restlessness, despair and fear overtake

The changing winds
Catch me in their wake
And I am knocked over
By the pounding of the waves

I tried meditation, yoga, walking and resting,
Devotional practice and chanting
But finally, at wits end, switched to
Tylenol 3, obtaining some relief

Still, when I tried to read
The tears surfaced,
From somewhere, unbidden,
As if the story touched a nerve

Not entirely sure
What that's all about
But then found help
In direct pointing to neither here nor not

In this place I found temporary respite
But had to get up and do some work,
which broke the spell somewhat
Nevertheless leading to some new insights

Impermanence makes
All good things precious;
In the flow
We watch and slip away,

Enjoying
The fleeting contact
All the more
And waving goodbye

Fall Through: Ups and Downs

I've never been one
To believe in reincarnation
Yet, it does seem to me as if
My life is but one syllable
In a vast machination

Just as I think I've performed
My last discursive dance
I find I've only elided
Into the next utterance

At some time - I cannot say when
There was Nibbana
And then a return,
A very painful one!

Having stuck on one word
I hung out to dry on the other,
which was where my teacher came in
('Lucky' her!)

Then having found my way back again
And learning the trick
Of passing back and forth,
although somehow not getting it at all,

I now but see another layer
That of a a place
Neither Nibbana nor Samsara;
Neither not Nibbana nor not Samsara

And as for what if anything (or nothing)
Could come next,
I will not ask yet
And would perhaps prefer not to apprehend

But wherever I wind up,
Whether moving on, to consonants or vowels,
If water there be we,
May I be blessed with plenty of towels!

Faith: Moving Forward

After the initial
Burst of happiness
Life resumed
It’s usual flawed course

The laptop crashed
Right after my decision to quit,
Has yet to be revived
And I don’t even know if my data survived!

I misplaced the picture
I’d intended for
A birthday card
And spent all night searching for it.

Several days hence
It reappeared
In a place I’d examined
Many times before!

And so the card
Will probably be late
But at least the post office
Stamped the date.

And now up to my forehead
In mounds of paper
And having swiftly, swiftly
Backed up files on my old computer

I’m so very tired
Plus, I have to make my own energy
As from the computer stimulus
I am now deprived
But that may be the best news to have arrived!

Fairyland: First Day Off

What a change! So strange!
But twas a beautiful day, sunny and hot
And towards late afternoon,
I had a peak out

On the balcony,
All was quiet
And so, I decided
To drink my tea out there

But first I had to
Cover the plastic chair
With clean cloth,
As it was dirty on top from lack of use

And then,
I pulled out
The tiny round table,
Painted an ugly shade of pink,

No wonder it was thrown out
By somebody or other,
Because aside from that
It was badly stained,

But to me it mattered not,
As after washing it off
It was perfect for the spot
Right next to my similarly found chair;

And so, after steeping the tea
In a big green mug,
I placed it on the table,
Sat happily sipping it up and appreciating the view.

It then occurred to me I could even read;
I grabbed an old novel, The Mists of Avalon, would you believe?
And read and read, already well absorbed on the tranquil eve
Of my first real day off, in many a long year!

Fade: Leave Taking

My last night on
Was quite a mess,
So much went amiss
And the cause?
Twas one of the usual suspects, of course!

But I won’t go there,
Not wanting to
Single anyone out,
Even one who deserves it,

As I’m gone anyway,
All is left behind,
Renounced and abandoned
For all time;

But as a consequence
Of this rude behaviour,
I could not say a proper goodbye
To the last caller!

Nevertheless, at the end of the shift,
I took the opportunity
To give a proper farewell to the premises,
Which shall be greatly missed.

After everyone else had left,
I pondered the many memories
Of this venerable old building
That is amazingly still standing!

So much has echoed
Through, inside and outside
These aging walls,
What secrets they could tell!

I sat long and wandered, lingering,
Remembering much, longing for some of it
And glad some else had passed,
Saying final farewells and taking my last leave at last.

Facing: Saying Goodbye

Twas a pleasant little party
For my departing,
Complete with small gifts,
Cheese, fruit and bagels,

Nothing much
For such a long tenure,
Not even a plaque
For my 15 years of labour!

Just like that,
I’m out of here,
No bells or whistles,
Nor even ribbons or bows.

Just as well though,
As I dislike fuss
And have often said thus
And so, this is what I got.

That’s okay,
Even though it’s not a lot,
At least I was well fed,
Instead of fed up!

I’ve always liked feasting
But also like to follow
A healthy diet
Wherever I can get it!

And so, I filled my plate many times over,
Making sure, there were few leftovers,
Nevertheless, doling out as lavishly as I refilled,
To the evident enjoyment of all present

But taking some of it home, in the end
And now, onward I go
For another few days,
Until I finally exit to
That which next awaits.

Facilitated: Just Another Swan Song

It might have been
Something
That happened
At work,

It might have been
The hot weather
That
Sent the signal

Or
It might have been
Only just
Time to go

But
I’m leaving
This job behind
And I don’t want
To write about it or remember anymore;

It’s gone,
It’s just a ghost,
I can hardly wait to
Get past this post,

To abandon this pit stop,
If it even was that!
Goodbye to all
And get on with it!

No bags to pack,
This time, not even that,
For I didn’t even have
My own desk at which to rest

But had to keep moving around
And so, maybe this
Is just a continuation
Of that motion.

Facets: Searching

A garden centipede
Has taken up residence
And occupies itself
Crawling back and forth
Across the carpeted bedroom floor;

It follows roughly the same lines,
Popping up alarmingly
From somewhere at different times,
Hunting for its prey, I presume

And thus, in order to avoid
Tramping on it accidentally,
I’m tempted
To put up a sign: “Centipede crossing,”

Although,
I’m not sure
Exactly where
This sign ought to go,

Hanging from the ceiling
In the middle
Of the room
Seems best

But I’m not sure how
I would get it
Up there
Or on what I’d hang it up;

Meanwhile,
I’m moving onward
To pursue some goals of my own,
Some as yet unknown

And so, I walk back and forth now
On the same carpeted floor,
Thinking out my next move,
In my own pursuit of something elusive.

Dear friends:

I regret to advise that as blogger no longer works with my browser, I am now going to have to migrate elsewhere. I am therefore suspending my posting for now. I will post the link to the new blog when I have it.

Thanks for reading,

Lee

Edit:  After considerable fiddling, I managed to slip in my April 20 post.

I will continue looking for an alternative site, but this may take some time.

Thanks for reading,

Lee

Fabric: Holding it Together

Tired,

Ever so tired

Because it’s time

To go to bed

But,

I got caught

On words and thoughts

Related to my busy day.

There’s so much

Going on inside my head

And I’m not sure

How much longer it will get,

One word

Leads to another,

One thought,

Piles upon another,

I keep finding my way out

Only to find

My way

Back in again,

Forgetting and

Remembering my place,

Accomplishing a little

And then lost in thought once more,

Awaiting the finish

Of my computer’s

Latest virus scan

Before retiring,

Watching the numbers

Flash upon the screen,

‘Too slow!’ I fume,

Before turning away

And writing this poem.

Eyewitness: Life of the Party

What to do,
When cheering
People up
Is your business

And you’re feeling
Incredibly glum?
Buck up,
Old chum!

There’s nothing else
That can be done
But pull oneself up
From the latest slump,

To rise up
With a roar,
Dance back and forth
Across the floor,

Thumb your nose
At your troubles,
Blow away your woes
Just like bubbles,

Let them rise
Into the sky
And burst by and by,
Leaving no trace as they fly,

Take no notice
Of the gloom,
Jump up and down
Until noon

And soon
You’ll forget
About all your upset
And boogie once more.

Eyesight: Sailing the Briny Deep

Fire and brimstone
Me hearties!
As everything’s
Gone mad again!

It’s too far to go
To get what I want
And so, I’ll have to
Fight on, for what I’ve got.

Not sure what’s the point
But I’ll soldier on anyway,
Because life’s just
This way:

If we go forth unchallenged,
We get flabby and lazy,
If we have no obstacles,
We resolve into gelatin,

Thus we have to struggle
If we’re going to succeed
At staying afloat
On the rolling sea,

Hence, it’s
Look alive
Me hearties
And climb up into the rigging,

Setting the sails
And tacking
For as long as
The headwinds blow

And then, taking a rest
When the sun sets
In the west,
Providing the winds settle at dusk.

Eyewitness: Involvement

Out of touch,
As, so busy, busy,
Flitting about
And getting lost
In so much

But still
Getting by,
Getting jobs done
And having fun,

Tripping over
Technological glitches
But finding temporary fixes,
Even though it’s so annoying,

Injecting humour
At every turnover,
Sharing mirth
And establishing worth,

Running around
From store to bank,
From bank to store,
From store to phone and out again,

Losing the plot
But accomplishing a lot
Of related tasks
In spite of delays and obstacles,

Learning fast
From mistakes
And missteps
And making progress,

Then impatiently waiting
But turning towards the impatience
And enjoying the process
Of observation.

Eyeful: Fully Energized

Fully energized.
Could it be
Because it was
My last day on, for a while?

Or is it spring?
Or is it
Just some unexplained
Accidental exuberance?

But either way,
It’s purely physical
And so, not much
Is happening here.

All is quite mundane,
No cause for alarm,
No grievous harm
But only charm;

The charisma lava
Flows on,
From some unknown
Or hidden source;

Here for a time
And evaporating again,
Falling as rain
And laughing down the drain;

And it seems as if
There’s less pain
But no loss, no gain
In any other frame;

I’ll just keep going then,
As long as I can
Until it’s time
To move on.

Eye: Turn Towards

Here I am again,
Pounding away
At this crummy keyboard,
I’d like a better one, one day,

All day long,
I listened to the radio,
More on the world
But little good news;

I searched my brain,
For something positive
In what I heard
But little occurred to me;

Turning attention
To my reaction,
Noticing the feelings
And the attraction;

Pulled by the energy,
Which feels good by itself,
Never ceases to amaze me,
What a difference that makes.

It’s such an uncomplicated practice
To which I keep returning,
Whenever I get lost,
It comes to my rescue.

If only the world’s problems
Could all be solved
By such a straightforward technique,
In which we all got involved.

What would that be like?
I’d sure like to see,
If we all practiced together
In this simple way.

Exuding: Grumping Along

Valleys and peaks,
My back feels better
But my head aches
And my hands shake.

Looking for remedies,
Then enjoying the relief,
Sunny days
But not getting enough sleep;

Motorcycle roars outside
But the air is fresh,
Irritated by the noise
But attempting to ignore it, I do my best.

Hearing men shouting
And the slamming of car doors,
Returning my attention once again
I carry on with my chores.

These interruptions
Would not be so bad
If I was really interested
In my tasks

But my mind wanders,
As if searching for a break
From these monotonous duties
That make little sense.

Having grumped about it,
Now that’s out of the way,
I can get back to it
And into something else to say,

Looking forward to
A good night’s rest,
Can’t wait to get home
And put my feet up at last!

Exuberantly: Change

Isn’t life strange?
All of a sudden
My nose runs
And then it rains!

Pigeons come
And pigeons go,
Seagulls fly,
Swooping high, then low,

Good news
And bad news,
Travels far
Across the airwaves;

The sky
Clears again,
Just in time
For the sun to set;

I can’t get it
Together yet,
How all the bits
And pieces fit;

And yet, they do,
No matter what,
The words and the spaces,
The honours and the disgraces,

Fame and ignominy,
War and peace,
Sleep and waking,
Turmoil and ease,

Onward and upward
And down again,
Sinking through the floor
And bouncing skyward once more.

Exuberance: As Far as We Can Go

‘When finally I get
What I need,
It’s always a case of,
Too little, too late!’
I complained.

But then,
As I considered further,
I concluded,
‘Tis always thus!’

No matter
How far
We travel,
We always have further to go,

Too far
Is never
Far enough
For us;

Even the Buddha,
When he came to
The end
Of his long life,

Hesitated
On the threshold
Of final release,
Reflecting that
There was
So much more
That he could do,
If only, he but dallied
A while longer

But, “no,” he decided, at last,
He had to go,
To move on,
As do all of us.

Extroverted: Succinctly

What a mess!
Why all this work?
Where does it lead?
Nowhere, as far as I can see;

So much frustration and effort
For nothing,
Just to make
A handful of dollars,

Would it not
Be better
To work for nothing
For myself?

And yet,
Would it be
Any less frustrating
Or any more profitable?

Alas, I fear not,
Going out on one’s own
Is such a risk
And requires many resources,

No one is independent
Of circumstances
And they need to be just right
In order to succeed;

And where will this end?
When will this project cease?
With my end, I suppose
Whatever that is. . .

Put succinctly: Everything and everyone
Is bound
By circumstances
And yet,
Everything and everyone is free.

Extroversion: Looking Outward

What’s on tonight?
The same old thing
Going into work
And coming home again,

Listening to some news
About war and injustice,
Efforts to bring peace
And reduce the general unrest, without success,

Major swings in the world’s
Economic fortunes,
Money changing hands
Through the electronic counters,

People crying for justice,
While powerful nations
Sit it out and wait
Watching the course of fate,

The hand wringing never ceases
But no action takes place
As the violence picks up the pace
And refugees race to escape the devastation,

It’s a puzzle to me,
How anyone can be free
When nobody does anything
To ensure it comes to be,

My compassion grows
For all those
Who’ve gotten in the way
Of the bombs falling every day,

May they all find refuge
From this terrible situation,
May we all find a method
To put an end to the carnage
Before it’s too late for all of us.

Extrinsic: Pressed

Feeling just
A little bit tense,
Due to recent events
Set in motion,

Not sure
How it started
Or who
Is ultimately responsible,

But, in any case,
I’m jittery
And my back is sore
From holding tension there,

The muscles contract,
As if preparing
For some sneak attack,
From behind my back,

Which coincidentally
Is how it feels,
When one gets caught
In between the hub and the tires;

I feel as if
I’m getting squeezed
Between the wants of others
And my needs;

Difficult to please,
That’s how people are
But that includes me
I suppose,

How people ever manage
To get along
Is a mystery sometimes,
The answer to which
Nobody knows.

Extricated: On the Way Home

Busy day:
Shooing pigeons
Off the balcony,
With the old, red-handled string mop,

Now, making breakfast
And out to the market
And back again,
To put the groceries away;

On and off
The phone
And then,
Made a list for the pharmacy,

Off I go again,
Enjoying the mild weather,
A pleasant spring day;
Don’t get many as comfortable as this!

Walking about with ease,
Watching the grass green
And new shoots
Of vegetation gleam;

Everybody’s energetic,
The sky shouts, “come and get it!”
This beautiful blue
And the sun shining too!

But instead I get stuck
In the store,
As I cannot locate two items
And only find one after a long while

And then the store
Has some peculiar accounting,
Which takes time to figure out before,
I’m finally out the door and heading home.

Extremity: Looking On

Probing the edge
Of what I can do,
Listening to the news
And wondering who’s who,

How do we tell,
What are the right causes
And which players
Are speaking the truth?

From so far away
It’s difficult to see,
What is really happening
So remotely,

Looking on from here
It’s so easy to do so
So passively,
Tapping into the audio-visual stream,

Wondering where we are really going
As opposed to the official version,
Wars and conflicts and politics,
It’s enough to make one sick!

And yet, it’s peaceful here
At least for now
And in this locality
But for how long will this be the reality?

Does this make for
A complacent mentality
Leading to
Even more fatalities?

What can we
Really prevent?
Or can we only look backwards
After the events?

Extremely: Pigeon Pie?

It’s pigeon mayhem
Around here,
Someone has fed them
And they just keep coming

And so, out I go
With my string mop
To the balcony
Waving it like a lance,

These irritating, messy birds flee;
Thus, every time I see
One of these filthy creatures,
Out I go,

Perhaps this is a hint
That I don’t get out enough
Or have not been exercising much of late
But I sure am now!

It’s not difficult
To remain mindful and alert
And get a good work out
When these villains come to call,

In addition, however,
I’ve been contemplating
Pigeon pie
And pigeon stew

But could I really do that?
Perhaps not
But if this keeps up
Who knows,

Maybe I would acquire a taste
For such and set some traps out there
But hopefully they will soon move on
And we won’t have to find out.

Extreme: Working Uphill

Getting late
And I’ve still
So much to do
But I need to sleep too,

The minutes
Tick by
So fast
And don’t last

But this
Is hardly news,
I’m just so absorbed
In my woes,

Angry thoughts
Split the darkness
Inside the mind
Like shards of glass,

Have to calm down
And get it together
But keep going over
The central matter

Like spokes
On the wheel
Or bats
Flocking,

All the problems
Go around
Or cluster,
As if mocking

My efforts to
Get them under control
Seems about as futile
As attempting to halt a snowfall,
Still, I try anyway, tackling all.

Extraordinary: Keep Going

Sometimes
The words
Tumble out swiftly
Like water from a tap,

Other times
They drip
Very slowly,
Like tree sap,

And after all that
Barely meet
My standards
For what’s appropriate,

Nevertheless
I stumble on,
Keeping up
The pace,

Growing with every poem,
Whether easily,
Or only after searching diligently
For every word and rhyme,

Whether greatly disturbed
Or with peace
And ease,
Well pleased,

Through ups and downs,
Zooming forward
Or falling backward,
Experiencing painful reversals,

Struggling along,
Requiring many rehearsals
Before finally deciding
What to say,
Before revising it again another way.

Extrapolating: Application

Weather change,
Gave me another migraine,
Happens almost every time
We get a big shift like this.

Experimenting with
A new way,
Devised after
Listening to a talk on supernatural powers,

These allegedly demonstrated
By
Certain Theravadan,
Forest monks;

When asked how he
Was able to ‘walk through’
Solid objects,
One monk supposedly replied,

That he merely
Concentrated on
The air element
And passed through,

And so, I reasoned thusly:
The disturbance in the atmosphere
That causes my difficulties
Could be construed as

A disturbance in the air element;
So, what if I concentrate on that?
And so, I imagined becoming one
With the air element.

A mist seemed to descend,
All appeared transparent,
And I began to relax
And the headache melted away.

Extrapolate: Preparation

Here we are
In April again,
Round and round
And back again,

Nothing much
Is happening here,
Same old chores,
Same old fare,

Preparing for work
And performing
Same old
Necessary duties

But all things considered,
Grateful even
For the monotony,
As have seen much worse;

Pain management strategies
Continuing to work,
Nevertheless, from the effort
I can never shirk,

As what's around the corner
Remains unknown,
Must remain vigilant
For whatever may go down,

Wondering how much longer
I will be around
And what will remain
When I am gone,

Will the old world
Still be here,
Or will it finally
Disappear?

Extraction: Pain Management Smörgåsbord

Experimentation
With food remedies,
To ease my pain
Has produced results,

Vitamin D:
Positive effects seen
On arthritis foot pain
Within six months;

Jalepino peppers:
Less foot pain again
Three months
And counting;

Raw fresh ginger,
In foods and drinks
And even straight up
Three times a day,

This oddly-shaped root
That grows
In exotic places
Produces amazing results:

Less pain in the joints,
Less achiness
Over time
And only after six weeks;

But yet still
The best remedy of all
Seems to be regular exercise
And a regular schedule with regular rest,

A tall order sometimes
But helpful
When possible
Nevertheless.

Extracting: Drinking the Moment

Returning to the present:
Restlessness,
Sloth and torpor,
Concentration,

Feeling the energy,
Hearing, seeing,
Observing the happenings,
Being with the breathing,

Thoughts come and go,
Passing like clouds
Through an endless sky
And disappearing over the horizon,

Sensations of heat and cold,
Grow and change
And merge
Into one another,

Close examination of pain
Reveals vibration
And a rainbow of colours
In the mind’s eye,

Fascinated by the show,
And so,
Forgetting about
The discomfort,

Sitting, as on a throne,
At the top
Of the world,
Looking outwards,

Spaciousness,
Melting into
The clear blue
Of the afternoon sky.

Extract: Pulling Through

Up so late,
Checking in
With the news
But finally relaxed
For a very short snooze,

Before rousing myself
And getting up running,
Flying through the day
Not feeling much of anything,

Focused on doing
And getting ready for work,
Wondering how I’ll make it
Through this mountain of chores,

One piles on another
And nothing seems to go right,
Everything breaking down
And fixing it no delight,

I’m full of fight
About issues
About which I’ve been hearing
That make me feel like sparring

But strategically speaking,
I’m still thinking
Of where to go
From here,

There’s a great deal of fear
But that’s common I hear,
And nothing about which
To be surprised,

As long as
We’re alive
We must know fear,
It’s just part of the here.

Extra: Too Much

Once again
I’m so far behind,
So much is happening
There’s not time to unwind,

Up all night,
Checking in with the news
And getting a real case
Of too much news blues

Now, rushing around
Trying to do
Way too much
And not liking it much,

Such much!
And so much bewilderment
And way to many muches,
To which I cannot keep up,

But one thing that’s good
Is that I’ve forgotten about pain,
Although I’ll soon remember
And be complaining again,

Meanwhile,
Rush, rush
Rush rush,
Rush, rush,

Excuse me,
As I’ve got to run,
No time for doddling,
No time for sitting,

Have to get up
And stop diddling now,
Got to get going
And get out from under
This pile of work somehow.

Extent: Reaching for Relief

Ah, at last I saw
The source of this latest pain,
As the lightening flashed
And then came the rain!

My aches and pains
Predict the weather
And so I should have guessed
This storm was coming together,

In the meantime,
I’ve had to resort
To pills I rarely use,
A muscle relaxant is what I chose,

To relax my shoulders
And my legs
And hopefully
This will bring relief

But while I waited,
I listened to the news,
From around the world
On the BBC World Service,

It’s not exactly
Meditation, I know
But it engaged my mind
On something else,

Forgetting about
My problems and woes,
By focusing on what else
Is happening in the world

And after a while,
The medication began to work
And I could move and stretch
With much less discomfort
And then, at last, go off to bed.

Extensively: Growl!

All worn out
By a blizzard of activity
And a gale of bad tidings,
Both at home and abroad

And to top it all
Woke up too early,
With such pain in my shoulders
I could barely move

But up I got
And moved around,
Moved around,
Achy and cranky,

Stumbling to the kitchen
For a cup of coffee,
Infuriated by the news
And ready for a fight,

With a, “how dare they?”
And a flurry of curses,
For the untimely demise
Of the greedy and the miserly;

The folks in these parts
That run the government,
Who seek to short-change the public,
While adorning themselves in gold nuggets!

But, what did I expect?
I saw this coming
But sometimes I wish
I wasn’t so accurate!

Prognosticating bad news
In a way that is so exact,
So matter-of-fact,
Making Nostradamus
Seem like a mere crackpot.

Extensive: Doubt

What to say,
What to say?
I’m in such a rush today
And on the way out the door,

I have to work,
Which is something of a perk
When so many others
Have to keep looking,

I’m grateful for that
And it gets me out
From under the bed,
When I’m feeling bad or just fed up,

I’ve been listening
To the news
And looking for clues
About what’s coming up,

Not sure what’s happening,
Whether fair weather
Or foul
Is about to arise now,

Everybody’s a’jitter
Awaiting the next twitter
About what’s going on
And where we are all going;

Trying to see
Our destiny,
While carrying on
With what we need do;

Makes a big headache
Which no painkiller can reach,
Standing o’er the breach
And holding one’s breath,
Thinking, “what’s next? What’s next?”

Extend: Backing Up

Little fish, little fish
Pretending to swim
Like this,
Underneath
My paternal Grandmother’s chair,

Little fish, little fish,
Sometimes I wish
I could go back to
That imaginary aquarium,

For those were happy times:
She looking out for me
And me loving her for it.

She watching me at play
And enjoying it too,
Playing along with my games
And loving it and little me.

But ‘tis so long ago,
I barely recognize
That little one,
Where did that all go?

Is that little one still there,
Underneath that chair,
Peering out from underneath
At Grandma’s loving smile?

Is Grandma still there,
Looking down from the chair
At the little child
Looking up lovingly,

Playing eternally,
Joyfully participating
In infinity’s unfolding,
Marveling at everything,
Never minding anything?

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.

Exquisitely: Flip-Flop

Now and then,
I find it funny,
How I flip
Back and forth
Between in depth musings
And making tea

And that I do it
So easily,
Like day and night
It sometimes seems,

Like two different people
Sharing the same dreams
And it may be so,
One day I may find out

That there’s more than one,
A multitude of interlinked minds perhaps,
Doing everything
That needs to be done
To keep reality going,

Sometimes having fun
And at other times
As miserable as they come,
For as long at it takes,

But for now
It’s back to making tea,
Cooking supper
Exercising, showering
And doing laundry,

Until another fit
Of thinking bursts forth,
Like the birds at dawn,
Getting on,
With their mysterious tasks.

Exquisite: Hilarity

I said to myself,
Why be so rigid?
Why not say,
‘what if,’ once in a while, instead?

‘But that’s not very scholarly,’
I opined,
Which is what I thought I was
Or wanted to be.

But I’m not thinking like a scholar
At the moment,
So, let’s see where that leads,
Can I do as I please and think for myself?

But then,
Wait just a moment,
Do I think for myself?

‘NO! I think not,’
Came the startling conclusion,
Nobody does.
How funny!

And if I ask
Who the thinker is,
I find none
And at this,
I laugh even harder.

‘What a crazy world,’
Hardly an original observation
But possibly just as true
As ever;

Sometimes I think I’ll never
Get to the bottom of this,
Perhaps, because,
What if, there isn’t one?
Hilarious!

Expressly: Ignorance

What if,
Everything we think we know
Is really ignorance:
Everything we see,
Hear, taste, touch, smell,
Think, experience,
It’s all ignorance and delusion.

There are so many ignorances:
The ignorance of a young child,
That we mistakenly call innocence,
The ignorance of a teenager
That we mistakenly refer to as rebellion,

The ignorance of young adults
That we mistakenly call maturation,
The ignorance of middle age
And of old age
That we sometimes confuse with wisdom,

Even though we know that
There’s no fool like an old fool
And no fool as foolish as we ourselves.

And where’s the Buddha in this?
What did he know?
I would guess just this:
That all of us, even he
Lived in delusion,

The difference being that he knew this,
Although he was assuredly not alone
And yet, just as ignorant and deluded
As everybody else is,

And, upon seeing this,
Was moved
To compassion,
Towards all our folly.

Expressively: Miscellaneous Fragments

Felt like
Doing nothing,
Chose to look towards,
‘I don’t want to do anything,’

Saw forever in it
And then quite rapidly,
Sprang up
And began to do,

How curious!

***

What if,
It does not matter
Whether
There ever was
A Buddha or a Buddhism,
Or whether there is or is not.

What if it’s irrelevant
And that
Whatever I say,
That’s irrelevant too?

Is it all
Just words,
All delusion?

If so,
How precarious!
What a shaky ladder
Upon which to stand!

And yet, we are still standing!
How so?
I do not even know!
Do you?

Expressive: Minor Explosion

Oh my,
What a mood!
I’d like to fly
Right out of here!

But instead,
I’ve got to shop!
But irritation exploded
When I found the Farmer’s Market closed

And why?
St Patrick’s day festivities
Had taken over
The place!

‘Blast this useless festival,’
I fumed silently,
Stomping down the street
In a daze,

‘Now, I’ll have to go elsewhere
And may have to go without,
Or visit multiple stores
Or lug a very heavy load.’

But forward I pushed on
And got the job done,
Only to get home and remember,
‘Oh drat, my blog!’

And so, here I am,
Rapidly relating this stormy episode
But all went well
In the end

And no one suffered
From this temper tempest;
I rolled through the aisles amiably,
And stood in line in proper order.

Expression: Striving

Oh!
How difficult it is
To see
That even
The inability to see is, ‘it,’

That all our striving
Is ‘it,’
That even at rest
Or amidst the fray,

Working every day
Or sleeping,
Walking, running
Or creeping,

Eating, breathing,
Washing and cleaning,
Sitting
And daydreaming,

All these
And more
Are just exactly
What we’re looking for,

Making tea
And drinking it,
Struggling with pain
And relaxation,

Racing against the clock
And putting our feet up,
Running for a train
And rushing home again,

It’s all laid out in plain view
But still we strain
To make some gains,
On the road to where we’ve always been.

Express: All Right

The only thing
That prevents us
From attaining realization
Is the effort to attain it

And yet, this effort too
Is nothing other than
That which we seek
And keep seeking,

The seeking is ‘it’ as well
And so,
Is perfectly acceptable,
As are the sacrifices we make.

Such sacrifices are ‘it’ too
And completely unnecessary
But totally right,
Even though unnecessary

And those who seek
Are just as right
As those
Who don’t.

The ones seeking relief
And the ones who don’t
Living together
In the same world,

Each known only
In terms of the other,
Each interpenetrating
And inseparable,

For without
One another,
How could they
Know themselves?

Expounding: Carrying on with the Inquiry

The great challenge continues,
The quest never ending;
To get to the end
Makes no sense,
For how could that be?

What end could there be?
An end to this individual life,
Probably
But what is that?

Right now, I could not say,
Am uncertain but unconcerned,
The light of existence burns,
Inside and outside,

The fire goes out
And the ashes cool,
Until no heat’s left over,
Neither a flicker nor a sputter,

Not even a stick stirred
Through the mucky mess remaining
Reveals any sparks
Or heat retaining;

And yet, does not the potential remain,
For another flame,
To arise from the dark?
Is there a brand new blaze in waiting?

And if so, what would it be?
Could it be me?
Or something completely different?
Will I be here to see?

Or if not, who else?
And when?
Twill it be somebody close at hand
Or in a completely different land?

Expound: Unbounded

The hardest insight
To come by,
The pinnacle of all,
Or so I humbly suggest,

Is that everything
Is Nirvana
And so,
Even suffering is Nirvana,

Not suffering is Nirvana,
All the conditioned phenomena
That are classified
As being suffering,

These too are Nirvana,
The very aches and pains,
Frustrations and irritations
That we so dislike,

All of these too
Are nothing but
Nirvana itself
But it’s so difficult to fathom,

Particularly,
When one is in it,
Up to the chin
In dire circumstances,

This is the great and tricky feat,
To be overwhelmed,
All sanity overturned,
Every moment excruciatingly upended,

To yearn for relief
And yet to see even in this yearning,
The truth of release,
The ultimate understanding,
That this too is ‘it!’

Expository: Swimming

The answer,
The simple answer
To
Life, the universe and everything,

To me
It would have to be
Something that
Was not contingent upon anything,

It would need to be
Something that
Never changed,
Nor withered;

What could that be?
I don’t have to tell you
Because you already know it
And all you have to do is

Ask the question,
What is it
That is not contingent upon anything
And that remains unchanged?

You could say it’s change,
Or you could say the deathless
Or you could say reality,
It matters not what you call it,

What matters is
That you see it,
Clearly discern it
And this is the difficulty.

It’s so simple,
So obvious,
So ubiquitous,
The very water in which we swim
And that we are (whatever that is!)

Exposition: Purposeful Struggle

Storms
And reports
Of storms
But now snow accumulates
On the ground

And the aching
In my body
From this
Turbulent climate

Does not inspire
Nor enliven
The wandering,
Wondering mind

And yet,
I get on with it!
Performing
My daily tasks,

Occasionally gazing out
At the steel grey clouds
And the patches
Of sunlight in between,

The scanty rays
Light lantern-like,
Here and there
The tawny grass and rough pavement;

Then finally
Fatigue slows me,
Confusion sets in,
Not sure what’s next,

So many tasks
From which to choose
But instead I pause
To sit.

Explosion: Passionate Interest

My chest
Is aflame
With pain
And so, I think,

Existence is suffering,
Yes, it really is
And that’s no lie,
No make believe line

And yet,
The sky is still beautiful,
The white/blue puffy clouds
And the gaps in between,

Ah!
One could
Disappear
Into a sky like that!

One could
Disappear
And never
Come back!

How wondrous
Life is,
How gorgeous,
How fantastic!

Although it’s often painful,
So disappointing
And uninspiring,
It’s phenomena like these,

Along with the accompanying treasures,
That keeps us going
Even in
The teeth of atrocious inner
And/or outer weather.

Explode: Paradoxical

Sometimes I feel
That life
Is like
A broken mirror,

Best viewed
From
Nowhere
In it;

All these
Tiny fragments,
Impossible
To reconcile,

Unless
One could
Stand outside
But how could that be done?

For, what’s outside?
And
How could we
Possibly see it?

It’s unknown
While we’re in it
And we know nothing
When we’re out of it,

So what a silly aim
To try to see,
When to do such
Seems a contradiction,

And yet,
There are those
Who claim
That they can see;
Watch out!

Explication: Process

One minute
Meditations,
That’s all
I seem to be doing,

Each one
Of which,
Leads to
Another bout of reflection

And then,
I write about it,
In between
Sips of hot black tea,

Meting out words
Like lemon drops,
Popping them
Into my mouth,

Tasting the
Tangy sweetness,
Chewing
And swallowing;

And then,
Reaching
For
Another one;

And starting
All over,
Until I’ve et
The whole packet;

And then,
Reaching
For
Another package
From the cupboard.

Explicate: Exploring, “I”

From
A certain standpoint,
“I,” is nothing at all,
A ghost, a phantom

And yet,
When one
Turns towards
This, “I,”

Examining it closely,
Staring
Right into
It’s face,

At first,
There is
One-pointed-ness
But then,

Something
Very interesting transpires,
An opening outward
Towards infinity;

And so it is that
Through
A careful investigation
Of this, “I,”

One can see
Something like forever,
Or at least
From

A certain
Point
Of
View.

Explanatory: Ideas

From
A certain
Point of view,
Ideas are just ideas

But also
They are
The very stuff
Of life;

They are
Like the blooming
Of many coloured
Flowers in the desert,

Lasting for only
A very short time;
Nevertheless,
They leave their mark,

In the form of
Seeds and fruit,
Which fall to the ground
Or are gratefully consumed;

The many creatures
Of the parched sands
Relying upon them
For sustenance

And, in turn,
Offering fertilizer
To these same plants,
Which then reproduce again.

And so,
The flow of ideas is renewed,
Keeps returning, churning,
Burning, like the desert sands.

Experiments: Drifting

So many times
I get lost in speculation,
Engrossed and involved,
Bewildered and frustrated

And then finally
I grow tired of it
And the mind falls silent
For an interval

Or I forget
All about it
And move on
To some chore I need to do

But before long
I’m off again
In some delicious, delightful
Or grueling exploration,

Some flight of fancy
Or existential investigation,
A little lightheartedness
Or a load of weighty consideration,

Like a cloud
Drifting across the sky,
Reshaping itself
To fit the terrain,

Dropping rain
As it streams over mountains,
Shrinking as it passes
Across the shimmering desert,

Expanding rapidly
When it drinks in evaporating moisture,
As it’s blown over
Sparkling waters.

Experientially: In Here

The nature of
My delusion is
That
There is

Something
Out there
That’s not
In here,

This Fibromyalgia pain
And the countless woes
That go with it,
Make me want to flee!

To get out of here;
But there’s really
No place else
To go;

And how to
Get this straight
Seems to be
My endless endeavour,

How to see that
Out there
Is no different
From in here

And that indeed,
Such expressions as
“Out there” and “in here,”
Are meaningless,

Such is the nature of
The difficult task
In which
I am daily engaged.

Experiential: Neither and Both

And so,
What of suffering?
From here it seems
Unavoidable,

For without it,
There would be
Nothing at all,
And what good would that be?

Plenty of good perhaps,
If one is sick to death
Of existence
And wants to end it all together,

Which is very reasonable
Under some conditions
And perhaps the inevitable outcome
Of having lived too long and seen too much

But in the meantime,
We partake of both,
To the extent
That our conditions allow or mandate;

And it is to be remembered
That we too
Are the conditions
Under which mandate or allowance we exist,

For however long
That existence persists
And perhaps
For however long

Whatever comes after,
Persists or desists,
Whatever
The case may be.

Experiences: Pragmatics

When I concluded
That all I need do
Is attend to
What needs doing,
At first, I thought,
‘How mundane,
How simple!’

But quickly changed to
‘This is not so,’
For what it takes
To sustain this fragile existence
Is often quite challenging and interesting,
Although at times
It can also be
Unbelievably onerous and staggeringly dull!

But when I
Adopt this
Straightforward philosophy,
I feel such a sense of relief,

I can just
Get down to business,
Take a practical approach
Over which I lose no sleep,

And if I stick to it
It gives me
The kind of focus
I so often lack,

Which produces
A deep level of concentration,
As I only need
To look at what
Actually needs doing.
It makes choices so much easier,
As pragmatics are all I need to consider.

Experienced: Tempered

And so,
It seems to me
That life consists
In this:

To enjoy
Or be miserable
(As the case
May be)

Until
The end,
Whatever
That is

Or until
one
Has
To go to

Wherever
One
Has
To

Go,
To do
Or
Not to do;

And,
All the rest
Is simply
Whatever

One needs
To do
To sustain
This fragile existence.
And from this, I feel, . . . such relief!

*Experience: Dispassion

Working with dispassion,
Standing back
And letting go of passion,
Steady and strong,

Reflecting on
What it means,
What consequences or results
Will arise from this approach,

Uncertainty and doubt
About what
It’s all
About;

Noticing a certain hardness,
A kind of coldness even,
Not quite indifference,
Nay, in fact, there’s compassion in it!

Nevertheless, a lack of involvement
In what’s going on is perceptible,
Not minding what’s what,
Simply noting with equanimity

But ‘what?’ I then ask,
‘Is the value of this?
Who does it serve?
What does this accomplish?’
Not sure about that yet.




*And now, I’m off on another meditation course.

I hope to be back in March.

Thanks for reading!

Lee

Expeditious: Thorough Investigation

A thousand ideas
Speed through the mind,
Seething with enthusiasm
For this notion or that,

Imaginary arguments
With remembered acquaintances,
Writing dialogue
In my head,

Pleasantly energizing,
Very diverting
But from what?
I stop to consider

But find only
A pleasant feeling,
An enjoyable fabrication,
Experienced in the body

And as this settles,
A tension is revealed
In the center
Of the chest,

A twinge of pain,
Of Fibromyalgia,
Ah! And so,
A possible reason for distracting,

A felt need
To get away
Or to create a distance
And some happiness,

By getting engaged
In a flow of ideas
And fantasy conversation
To bring some relief.

Expedition: Traversing the Rutted Road

Now, if only
I could ascertain
What I need to do
To arouse and maintain
Stillness and stability,

What would happen then?
What would be the next step?
Or would there be one?
Would that just be the end?

Or would there be
Some other end
That would arise eventually,
Upon the attainment of such-and-such?

Sometimes, I think
I would really rather
Stay home
And write poetry

But if I did that
Would I truly do that?
Or is it this situation
This unhappy circumstance

Itself a product of
Other conditions,
That keeps the fingers
Rolling over the keys?

It’s a recurring theme,
I know,
One which
Will one day be replaced,

But by what, I wonder,
What conditions would erupt next,
If I ever had the opportunity
To follow this or that dream?

Expedite: Reaching

If only I could gain mastery
Over the periodically arising
Stillness and steadiness
That now only comes and goes,

What would that be like?
How could it be done
If it could be done?
Could it ever be done?

Sometimes,
I think that maybe
It’s impossible
To do that;

And sometimes
When I think that,
I feel sad
But at other times relief follows,

There is a relaxation
That comes
From giving up
That feels like a sort of realization,

Indeed, I’ve heard it said
That this is what
Realization
Is really about,

That having failed
To achieve his goal,
In spite of his Herculean efforts,
The Buddha-to-be gave up

And that
Through this action
Came to realize
What he then needed to do.

Expedient: Equanimity

Every now and then
Emerges the feeling
That
There’s no need to do anything,
No need to not do anything,

No need to try,
No need to refrain from trying,
No need to need,
No need to refrain from seeking satisfaction of needs;

Not sure why this feeling arises
Or from where
Or where it goes
When it goes,

All I know is
That these moments
Are accompanied by stillness
And stability of mind,

Although it often seems
These precious interludes
Arise only
After great struggles;

But of course
That may be
Only as it seems,
Not as it is,

Notwithstanding all of that,
How lovely
It is
When it is thus.

Expediency: Something Else

And then,
It hit me,
A possible way
To stay
Exactly where I am,

A potential method
For making this waiting game bearable,
Until such a time
As something else comes along

And so, I searched online,
Until I found,
A laptop I could afford
That I could use anywhere

And then, I bought it
And took it home
And began
To learn how to use it

And that very evening
Began to feel better,
Having accomplished
This goal;

But, as for
The long-term results,
That will have to wait
For the trial and error,

Maybe this
Will keep me going
For an interval
Or even lead to something substantial.

Although it made me smile,
I won’t know for a while
What will become
Of this latest escape attempt.

Expected: Searching For an Exit

Is it time to quit?
To move on or just leave;
Fifteen minutes to go,
Until the end of my shift;

I promised myself
I’d stay on another year,
At least until April,
Before deciding whether to exit,

To depart from these premises
And never look back,
‘Is that going to happen?’
I keep asking.

And then, where to?
Just early retirement, perhaps?
And writing every day?
But more substantially?

Could I do this financially?
Is it sustainable?
These questions have been repeated
So often over these past three years;

The economy is not so good
And there are few other jobs out there
And so, it’s not the best of times
To be thinking of packing up,

Unless I’m planning on
A permanent leave;
But some days I’m so fed up,
I think no one knows how much!

I‘d like to check out
Of this cheap hotel now,
While there’s still
Some sanity left to me.
But, . . . there’s always this, ‘but.’

Expectations: Looking Forward to What?

Looking for new opportunities
But not sure where to go,
Veering away from the fanciful
Toward the practical;

And yet, never ceasing to dream,
Resting in the stream,
Like a fish waiting for prey
To snap up as they float by,

Vigilant and eager
For some clue
About what direction
I should take,

Not wanting to grab on
To any old way,
Enjoying freedom from involvement
Too much to get engaged;

Nevertheless, on the look out
For the next project,
Perhaps out of habit,
Not used to such a prolonged slow-down,

I notice how I rush,
Even though I don’t need to,
Accustomed to busyness,
Not used to sitting so much,

Wanting to get going,
One minute
And appreciating the scenery
The next,

Not knowing what’s next,
Dithering and wobbling
All over
And back again.

Expectation: Uncovering Suffering

Music playing
In my head,
Brass horn melody incidental music
From an old TV show;

I’ve been watching
Reruns again,
As it’s all I have
Since digital took over,

My old TV’s too old for that
And my budget tight
And so, I’ve been doing without,
For the first time in a long while;

I never imagined
When I was growing up
That there would come a day
When I’d have to give it up,

It’s a funny feeling,
As I’d gotten so used to it
And another reminder
Of inconstancy;

These expectations come from somewhere
And we don’t even
Know about them,
Until something or someone is gone;

And then, all at once
We realize:
There goes another something or someone
That we had been counting upon;

Without realizing it,
We had gotten attached
And now suffer a loss
Or a betrayal of trust
But either way, that’s the end of that.

Exotic: Joyful Stewing

Watching the icy rain
Pelt down again and again,
Strange weather,
Hardly winter at all,

Then turning away,
Back towards the chill inside,
Running low on fuel,
Lethargy has set in,

Reluctant to move
And yet, no trouble
Getting supper going,
Hot stew feels good,

Even when it’s reheated,
Warming the body
And cheering the heart
From the inside out;

So many years it took,
To learn how to cook
So well
Or, at least, to suit me,

Wondering for how much longer
I’ll get to do it
And whether I’ll miss it
When I can’t,

For sometimes it’s a chore
But then I remind myself
How it’s actually
A privilege

And this arouses joy,
Which goes into the pot
Along with the vegetables
That I have chopped.

Exorbitance: Overabundant Energy

I’m on
A marathon run,
Up to
My next meditation course,

Not sure
What I’m doing,
Or why
Or what it’s for,

I feel so rushed
But for what reason?
What’s the hurry?
Or is it just for fun?

It’s so invigorating!
To be in pursuit
Of a goal
And well on my way,

It’s one of life’s pleasures
To be up against a deadline
And yet,
There’s a stress in there too.

Is there a balance,
An in between?
Or is it best
To simply adjust,

To embrace the race,
While it lasts
And rest
When the opportunity arises,

There are, of course
Different opinions
On which way is preferred;
I won’t take sides, however
But only explore each way instead.

Exhortation: Grandma’s Suggestion

Things have gotten slow,
Humdrum
And ho hum,
Not much happening,

Life seems repetitive,
Although,
It’s not necessarily
Unpleasant;

As my Maternal Grandmother once said,
On one of those occasions
When I complained
Of being bored:

“One day,
You’ll be
Grateful
For boredom.”

Back then,
When she made this observation,
I was unconvinced
And mystified,

But now I think
I understand her position
That there comes a time
When this feels right,

Once one has tried
It all
Or at least
As much as one can do for now

And is feeling exhausted,
Has run out of fresh ideas
Or even those that arise
Seem impossible to pursue,
Then boredom will do.

Exhort: Redirectng Energy

Agitation, frustration,
Have me in their grip,
Beside myself,
Deciding what to do,

Finally resorting
To an old trick,
Used to be,
I’d pour it into activity,

Now instead,
I take hold
Of this energy
And redirect it differently,

Steering the ire
Towards stabilizing mind and body,
Breathing in steadying body and mind,
Breathing out steadying body and mind,

Filling the lungs softly
And then, expelling tension and distress,
Evenly, dispassionately,
Leveling the fluctuations,

Mastering the passions
By persistent actions,
Then repeating metta phrases,
To compose and refresh,

Reducing stress,
Alleviating suffering,
Consistently buffering
The buffeting,

As wave after wave
Of irritation passes through,
Continuing to labour
As long as is necessary
To gain stability.

Exhilaration: Extraordinary

Another year,
Has come to an end,
And the next one
Has just begun

But what’s happening?
The scratching of my pen
And a mind racing
As it often does

But just as frequently
The mind rests,
Appreciating what is,
From the simple to the complex,

Boiling water for tea,
Putting ice cubes in
To cool it to taste
And because of haste,

How marvelous
To be able
To do both,
What a luxury!

It’s these basic luxuries
That never cease to impress,
Like getting up
And getting dressed;

Eating and breathing
Amaze me regularly
And how life IS
And wondering what it is.

These wonders
Fascinate and activate my mind,
Every time
I consider them.