Headway: Next

After many busy practice days
I concluded that my goal was just this:
The regular pursuit of
Non-sensual mind-calming bliss;

But then one day, fully overwhelmed by
Ferocious hatred and passion for vengeance,
I asked myself, 'What if
My desire was fulfilled forthwith?'

Imagining such brought forth
Intense non-sensual joy
That I then sought to increase
After dropping the original object of it;

Having thus, through right effort, purified this happiness
And similarly vanquishing all hindrances to it,
Even those that hadn't arisen yet!
I moved on to a yet greater task;

I asked myself, 'What if
with a single finger-snap I could ensure
For all time that
No such hindrances could ever arise?'

And right then there ceased
All discrimination along the lines of
'What I want, don't want or neither,'
which result felt like nothing I could describe here!

But also led to the cessation of
All action and will to action,
which I found not to be
A very helpful consequence;

'Then, perhaps,' thought I, 'tis not
Wanting, nor not wanting, nor neither that's at fault
But imbalance:  one-pointed obsession on any of these three,
And that what is needed is a wider view
That encompasses this trio and all else too!

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

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

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.