Director: At the End of the Day

Recalling energy to mind,
Exercising vigorously on the resulting fuel,
Sitting quietly, observing experience,
Calm and alert;

Making tea and sampling the flavour,
Taking a seat and sipping,
Letting the rich taste settle,
Entertaining the tongue;

Contemplating supper,
What shall I prepare?
Considering the options,
Putting a pot of water on;

Two tablespoons of almonds,
Oops, forgot the oil
And that goes in,
Then comes brown rice lentils and barley,

Adding the stock
And chopping the vegetables,
Waiting for the right time
To put them in,

Finally the spices
And the big cooking spoon
Is dipped in to serve
Into a big bowl for eating from,

Devotional practice follows,
Offering the aroma
To Tara Buddha
Before eating it;

Satisfied and a little sleepy,
Selecting an audio play
And kicking back to listen,
Laugh and enjoy.

Directness: What’s What

Lying flat on the bed,
Back of the head on a pillow,
Knees bent and up,
Right leg crossed over left,
Feeling whole,

All divisions broken
And everything is.
Such comfort and peace,
Never before and always
This way;

Wanting to be pleased
And silly all at once,
To take everything seriously
And to laugh hilariously
At what I see,

What it is to be,
In this reality,
Which is here in this room,
Everywhere
But so subtle;

Difficult to see
And impossible to avoid,
The void
And ordinary things
Like walls and ceilings,

Sitting at the keyboard
Reflecting on the keys,
Feeling the fingers
And watching them type
Each verse,

Words on the page
And spaces in between the letters
Making the phrases
But from whence comes the meaning?

Diligent: Tending the Fire

Mega metta,
Monumental exertion,
Intentional identification
With loving-kindness awareness;

Energetically repeating
Well-wishing phrases
And observing the upwelling
Of peace and receptivity;

Except, what’s this?
Anger fiercely arising,
Far too strong to be ignored,
It shrouds the horizon,

And so, turning towards the physical sensations
And investigating this disturbance,
Experienced as intense tingling and inner blackness
Deep inside the center of the chest;

But, is that all? What a relief!
‘Tis only a sensational surge,
Just a little bird flapping about,
Exercising its tiny wings

And as gradually the agitated avian settles,
Attention inclines towards awareness itself,
Observing the kindness growing within it
And back to metta the focus goes,

Savouring the glowing warmth,
Glorying in the light of the growing blaze,
Marveling at the miracle
That simple sustained effort can generate such well being.

Slowly comfort diffuses through,
Cooling into a tranquil state,
A stable calm,
A well of ease upon which to draw
Whenever the restless sparrow stirs within the heart.