Downward: Back to Now

My practice has slipped
Away from sitting!
Tis a defection
To reflection,

A direction change
From meditation to action,
But such action!
Not mindless but present,

There’s a freedom
And an ease
In everything doing
And yet all is the same.

Is this a return
To the old way of doing?
Or is there something different
In this pattern?

Oh, never mind!
Just enjoy and learn
Being here,
Forget about there,

Who cares what’s the reason,
Whether mood or season,
The dharma
Or living;

No recalling to mind,
No imagining,
No thinking about what’s happening,
No figuring or trying, just resting,

Getting on with
What’s indicated
Based on what’s needed
And what’s decided.

Down-to-Earth: Just So

It is a solution of no solution.
What if everything is mutually arising and there’s nothing that can be done about any of it?
So then, striving ceases and effortlessness ensues.
But how does that happen?
I think perhaps, nobody knows.
Still we keep searching because that’s what we do, or we can say it’s our nature to search. But then it grows tiresome and we stop for a while, or forget about what we we’re searching for and keep going or move on to something else.
You try to do this
You try to do that
Is it any good?
Or is this just doing?
I’m not sure.

Along with this, there is a sense of deadness, of unreality and a desire to write about it. But what if these too are merely mutually arising?

What is wrong with grasping?
I clasped my left wrist with my right hand and it felt fine, it felt comforting and safe.
If I hold onto this long enough it dissolves into death, into a skeleton, into dust, but so what?
I don’t see any problem here.

So what’s the problem?
I don’t know.

What was the Buddha’s problem?

I don’t know. I wasn’t there, and even if I had been maybe I still would not know.

So then what?

I don’t know. I think finish drinking the coffee and make breakfast and see what develops. . . Or maybe that’s it: that it’s all just about making coffee and breakfast, and so on, and not minding that that’s all it’s about.

Downright: Just Life

Feeling blue
For the usual reasons,
Comes and goes
Just like the seasons.

If only I could
Look at it what way,
I’d be less bothered maybe
When the ghouls come out to play!

Mindfully holding them
Just like dear familiar friends,
Welcoming them at the door
With tea and biscuits,

Shaking their hands
In the receiving line, with,
“Haven’t seen you in a while,
How’s the family?”

If only twere so easy,
I’d be able to get busy,
Instead of glooming
And fuming,

If grumpiness could make it better
Everything would be perfect
But trying doesn’t help
So back to waiting,

Meanwhile proceeding normally,
Going about my tasks,
In between blasts
And bombasts,

Working steadily
Whenever I can,
Preferable to stewing
Unless it’s on the stove.