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

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!

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.

Enterprise: Accidental Opportunity for Compassionate Practice

When I looked out on the balcony yesterday, I saw that someone had chucked a lit cigarette off their balcony onto mine. Irritated, as I already had enough to do, I opened the balcony door to retrieve it and was immediately nonplused by a large insect on the greyish stone tile. Then, however, I recognized that it was a Monarch butterfly, but with its wings so folded up that from a certain angle it looked more like a grasshopper.

It had been a cold night, with a temperature below freezing, and I had felt it too, having spent a fitful night, alternating between being too hot and too cold. I therefore guessed the butterfly had folded its wings so tightly in an attempt to keep in what little heat its tiny body could generate, and perhaps to protect it’s delicate wings from the frigid air. I decided to air the place out, thus providing some warm air for the butterfly, and as I got on with my many chores, I periodically checked in to see how it was doing. As it got warmer, the wings began to come up a little, but the butterfly was very unsteady on its legs in the cool breeze that was blowing.

A while later, I saw its open wings flexing and then closing again. Still later, I saw it crawling awkwardly across the stones. When it reached the metal cover on the window washer’s anchor, which must have been very cold indeed, it tried to climb up on that, perhaps trying to get more height from which to launch itself, but it was getting nowhere, and probably getting chilled again as well. I was tempted to intervene, but unsure what to do and fearful of causing further harm, and so I directed compassion towards the butterfly and resumed my work.

Then I saw it fluttering weakly and irregularly towards a neighbour’s balcony. And so, finally I gently spread out my hands to corral it, and offered a hand for it to climb up onto, thinking perhaps I could warm it up enough for it to be able to fly properly. After crawling onto the offered hand, however, maybe it realized that this warm soft something was alive, and it quickly hopped back off again. But the second time it crawled onto the proffered hand, perhaps as whatever this something was hadn’t tried to eat it or otherwise harm it, it quickly located a comfortable perch. Soon it began flexing its wings quite vigorously, and within a few minutes took off and soared like a bird, flapping strongly and quickly away. And so, I said farewell and wished it a safe journey. As I had beheld it resting on my hand and afterwards I reflected upon its frame of reference in relation to this encounter, whether or not its acceptance of this assistance was an active act of trust, and how this timely intervention began with a carelessly flicked lit cigarette!

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!

Correctly: Coming and Going

On the way home
From the market,
I saw a single Monarch butterfly,
Which can mean only one thing:

Autumn is not far away,
For tis the season of
The great Monarch migration,
To the south;

What a wonderful sight!
Especially as I can’t recall
When last I saw
Such a patterned black/orange beauty,

A fleeting flash of colour,
Fluttering up and down
On the air currents
Of a warm August afternoon;

Fly little winged one,
Fly strongly, fly well,
Carrying my best wishes
On your delicate wings:

One for compassion,
The other for wisdom,
Not one, not two,
Or so I’ve heard;

They come and go
So swiftly
These precious moments,
When I feel so alive,

So connected,
It’s hard to believe
That “I” too
Is so short-lived,
But there it is—impermanence.