A Far Distant Howl

Kris Johnson (July 4, 1951 - January 5, 1985)

2011-01-05T16:30:00.006-07:00

"The Acts Of The Apostles", by William Bronk.

The second time the flesh was harder to put on
and there was no womb to shape and soften it,
unless it were Joseph's tomb in the cut rock
that shaped, perhaps, but more misshaped to a kept
mask, as a wet shoe is hardened as it dries
to a foot shape and the print of a step, but not
to the moving muscle and bone that walking was.
What wonder then that Mary, who loved his life,
mistook him for the gardener, and humbled by love,
asked only where they had lain him that took him away.
The men, too, were uncertain they saw at first.
Thomas doubted and thrust his hand in the wounds.
There must have been some subtle difference gone
from the flesh they loved, or a difference newly come
to make a change in it. Say the change was death
that had wrought hard with it; or say the fact
this flesh appeared and disappeared without
their knowing bewildered them. They did rejoice,
but only as though their hope had stretched too far.
And Peter went back to cast his nets on the sea.
Some grief is stronger than any joy before
or after it, and life survives. It feeds
within itself on grief, not nourished then
by other food, as winter trees survive
because they do not feed. Their mouths refused,
almost, the taste of the brief return; grief seared,
they could not savor it. The time did come—
but it was afterwards, that a new joy
leafed over their grief as a tree is leafed.
It was the tree of grief that grew these leaves.
We share the movement that young birds learn
when clumsy with size, they grow to empty air
and fall, and find the empty air sustains.
So we are lofted in our downward course by the wide
void of loss through which we fall to loss
and lose again, until we too are lost
in a heavier element—the earth or sea.
We grow in stature: grief is real and loss
is for life, as long as life. Long flight,
soar freely, spiral and glide in the empty air.

Psalm

2010-12-05T17:05:00.002-07:00

Lord of dimensions and the dimensionless,
Wave and particle, all and none,

Who lets us measure the wounded atom,
Who lets us doubt all measurement,

When in this world we betray you
Let us be faithful in another.

by Mark Jarman

love is a place

2010-10-06T11:24:00.000-06:00

e. e. cummings
love is a place
& through this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skillfully curled)
all worlds

The Coming One

2010-08-02T14:18:00.000-06:00

"Why don't you think of [Christ] as the coming one, who has been at hand since eternity, the future one, the final fruit of a tree, with us as its leaves? What is keeping you from hurling his birth into evolving times and from living your life as though it were one painful beautiful day in the history of a great pregnancy? Don't you see that everything that happens becomes a beginning again and again? Could it not be his beginning, since a beginning in itself is always so beautiful? If, however, he is the most perfect one, would not what is less than perfect have to precede him, so that he can choose himself from great abundance? Would not he have to be the last one, in order to envelop everything within himself? And what sense would our existence make, if the one we longed for had already had his existence in the past?

By extracting the most possible sweetness out of everything, just as the bees gather honey, we thus build him. With any insignificant thing, even with the smallest thing--if only it is done out of love--we begin, with work, with a time of rest following, with keeping silent or with a small lonely joy, with everything that we do alone, without participants or supporters, we begin him: the one whom we shall not experience in this lifetime, even as our ancestors could not experience us. Yet they who belong to the distant past are in us, serving as impetus, as a burden to our fate, as blood that can be heard rushing, as a gesture rising out of the depths of time," " - Rainer Maria Rilke.

hat tip-Andrew Sullivan

Kris Johnson (July 4, 1951 - January 5, 1985)

2010-07-04T07:24:00.003-06:00

Afterwards

When the Present has latched its postern behind my tremulous stay,
And the May month flaps its glad green leaves like wings,
Delicate-filmed as new-spun silk, will the neighbours say,
"He was a man who used to notice such things"?

If it be in the dusk when, like an eyelid's soundless blink,
The dewfall-hawk comes crossing the shades to alight
Upon the wind-warped upland thorn, a gazer may think,
"To him this must have been a familiar sight."

If I pass during some nocturnal blackness, mothy and warm,
When the hedgehog travels furtively over the lawn,
One may say, "He strove that such innocent creatures should come to no harm,
But he could do little for them; and now he is gone."

If, when hearing that I have been stilled at last, they stand at the door,
Watching the full-starred heavens that winter sees,
Will this thought rise on those who will meet my face no more,
"He was one who had an eye for such mysteries"?

And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom,
And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings,
Till they rise again, as they were a new bell's boom,
"He hears it not now, but used to notice such things"?

He Sure Makes Me Feel It

2010-07-04T01:54:00.001-06:00

To the Choirmaster

2010-06-20T10:03:00.001-06:00

The rock lives in the desert, solid, taking its time.

The wave lives for an instant, stable in momentum

at the edge of the sea, before it folds away.

Everything that is, lives and has size.

The mole sleeps in a hole of its making,

and the hole also lives; absence is not nothing.

It didn’t desire to be, but now it breathes

and makes a place, for the comfort of the mole.

I am a space taken, and my absence will be shapely

and of a certain age, in the everlasting.

In the fierce evening, on the mild day,

How long shall I be shaken?

(Habakkuk)

by Paul Hoover

from Poetry Magazine,

June 2010

(thanks to 3quarksdaily)

Memorial Day 2010

2010-05-31T06:14:00.000-06:00

Facing It

BY YUSEF KOMUNYAKAA

My black face fades,

hiding inside the black granite.

I said I wouldn't,

dammit: No tears.

I'm stone. I'm flesh.

My clouded reflection eyes me

like a bird of prey, the profile of night

slanted against morning. I turn

this way--the stone lets me go.

I turn that way--I'm inside

the Vietnam Veterans Memorial

again, depending on the light

to make a difference.

I go down the 58,022 names,

half-expecting to find

my own in letters like smoke.

I touch the name Andrew Johnson;

I see the booby trap's white flash.

Names shimmer on a woman's blouse

but when she walks away

the names stay on the wall.

Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's

wings cutting across my stare.

The sky. A plane in the sky.

A white vet's image floats

closer to me, then his pale eyes

look through mine. I'm a window.

He's lost his right arm

inside the stone. In the black mirror

a woman's trying to erase names:

No, she's brushing a boy's hair.

Personals

2010-05-18T16:29:00.001-06:00

Some nights I sleep with my dress on. My teeth are small and even. I don't get headaches. Since 1971 or before, I have hunted a bench where I could eat my pimento cheese in peace. If this were Tennessee and across that river, Arkansas, I'd meet you in West Memphis tonight. We could have a big time. Danger, shoulder soft. Do not lie or lean on me. I'm still trying to find a job for which a simple machine isn't better suited. I've seen people die of money. Look at Admiral Benbow. I wish like certain fishes, we came equipped with light organs. Which reminds me of a little known fact: if we were going the speed of light, this dome would be shrinking while we were gaining weight. Isn't the road crooked and steep. In this humidity, I make repairs by night. I'm not one among millions who saw Monroe's face in the moon. I go blank looking at that face. If I could afford it I'd live in hotels. I won awards in spelling and the Australian crawl. Long long ago. Grandmother married a man named Ivan. The men called him Eve. Stranger, to tell the truth, in dog years I am up there.

C. D. Wright was born in 1949 in Mountain Home, Arkansas. She is the author of numerous books of poetry and currently teaches at Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island.

Song

2010-05-18T11:04:00.001-06:00

The weight of the world
is love.
Under the burden
of solitude,
under the burden
of dissatisfaction

the weight,
the weight we carry
is love.

Who can deny?
In dreams
it touches
the body,
in thought
constructs
a miracle,
in imagination
anguishes
till born
in human—

looks out of the heart
burning with purity-
for the burden of life
is love,
but we carry the weight
wearily,
and so must rest
in the arms of love
at last,
must rest in the arms
of love.

No rest
without love,
no sleep
without dreams
of love—
be mad or chill
obsessed with angels
or machines,
the final wish
is love
—cannot be bitter,
cannot deny,
cannot withhold
if denied:

the weight is too heavy

—must give
for no return
as thought
is given
in solitude
in all the excellence
of its excess.

The warm bodies
shine together
in the darkness,
the hand moves
to the center
of the flesh,
the skin trembles
in happiness
and the soul comes
joyful to the eye—

yes, yes,
that's what
I wanted,
I always wanted,
I always wanted,
to return
to the body
where I was born.

~ Allen Ginsberg ~

(Collected Poems 1947-1980)

Earth Day 2010 IN PRAISE OF THE EARTH

2010-04-22T03:04:00.003-06:00

Let us bless
The imagination of the Earth,
That knew early the patience
To harness the mind of time,
Waited for the seas to warm,
Ready to welcome the emergence
Of things dreaming of voyaging
Among the stillness of land.

And how light knew to nurse
The growth until the face of the Earth
Brightened beneath a vision of color.

When the ages of ice came
And sealed the Earth inside
An endless coma of cold,
The heart of the Earth held hope,
Storing fragments of memory,
Ready for the return of the sun.

Let us thank the Earth
That offers ground for home
And hold our feet firm
To walk in space open
To infinite galaxies.

Let us salute the silence
And certainty of mountains:
Their sublime stillness,
Their dream-filled hearts.

The wonder of a garden
Trusting the first warmth of spring
Until its black infinity of cells
Becomes charged with dream;
Then the silent, slow nurture
Of the seed's self, coaxing it
To trust the act of death.

The humility of the Earth
That transfigures all
That has fallen
Of outlived growth.

The kindness of the Earth,
Opening to receive
Our worn forms
Into the final stillness.

Let us ask forgiveness of the Earth
For all our sins against her:
For our violence and poisonings
Of her beauty.

Let us remember within us
The ancient clay,
Holding the memory of seasons,
The passion of the wind,
The fluency of water,
The warmth of fire,
The quiver-touch of the sun
And shadowed sureness of the moon.

That we may awaken,
To live to the full
The dream of the Earth
Who chose us to emerge
And incarnate its hidden night
In mind, spirit, and light.
~John O'Donohue

The Love That Dares To Speak Its Name

2010-04-04T09:29:00.002-06:00

By James Kirkup
23 April 1918 – 10 May 2009

As they took him from the cross

I, the centurion, took him in my arms-

the tough lean body

of a man no longer young,

beardless, breathless,

but well hung.

He was still warm.

While they prepared the tomb

I kept guard over him.

His mother and the Magdalen

had gone to fetch clean linen

to shroud his nakedness.

I was alone with him.

For the last time

I kissed his mouth. My tongue

found his, bitter with death.

I licked his wound-

the blood was harsh

For the last time

I laid my lips around the tip

of that great cock, the instrument

of our salvation, our eternal joy.

The shaft, still throbbed, anointed

with death's final ejaculation

I knew he'd had it off with other men-

with Herod's guards, with Pontius Pilate,

With John the Baptist, with Paul of Tarsus

with foxy Judas, a great kisser, with

the rest of the Twelve, together and apart.

He loved all men, body, soul and spirit. - even me.

So now I took off my uniform, and, naked,

lay together with him in his desolation,

caressing every shadow of his cooling flesh,

hugging him and trying to warm him back to life.

Slowly the fire in his thighs went out,

while I grew hotter with unearthly love.

It was the only way I knew to speak our love's proud name,

to tell him of my long devotion, my desire, my dread-

something we had never talked about. My spear, wet with blood,

his dear, broken body all open wounds,

and in each wound his side, his back,

his mouth - I came and came and came

as if each coming was my last.

And then the miracle possessed us.

I felt him enter into me, and fiercely spend

his spirit's finbal seed within my hole, my soul,

pulse upon pulse, unto the ends of the earth-

he crucified me with him into kingdom come.

-This is the passionate and blissful crucifixion

same-sex lovers suffer, patiently and gladly.

They inflict these loving injuries of joy and grace

one upon the other, till they dies of lust and pain

within the horny paradise of one another's limbs,

with one voice cry to heaven in a last divine release.

Then lie long together, peacefully entwined, with hope

of resurrection, as we did, on that green hill far away.

But before we rose again, they came and took him from me.

They knew not what we had done, but felt

no shame or anger. Rather they were glad for us,

and blessed us, as would he, who loved all men.

And after three long, lonely days, like years,

in which I roamed the gardens of my grief

seeking for him, my one friend who had gone from me,

he rose from sleep, at dawn, and showed himself to me before

all others. And took me to him with

the love that now forever dares to speak its name.

Seven Stanzas at Easter

2010-04-04T05:59:00.000-06:00

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells' dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His Flesh: ours.

The same hinged thumbs and toes,
the same valved heart
that — pierced — died, withered, paused, and then
regathered out of enduring Might
new strength to enclose.

Let us not mock God with metaphor,
analogy, sidestepping transcendence;
making of the event a parable, a sign painted in the
faded credulity of earlier ages:
let us walk through the door.

The stone is rolled back, not papier-mache,
not a stone in a story,
but the vast rock of materiality that in the slow
grinding of time will eclipse for each of us
the wide light of day.

And if we will have an angel at the tomb,
make it a real angel,
weighty with Max Planck's quanta, vivid with hair,
opaque in the dawn light, robed in real linen
spun on a definite loom.

Let us not seek to make it less monstrous,
for our own convenience, our own sense of beauty,
lest, awakened in one unthinkable hour, we are
embarrassed by the miracle,
and crushed by remonstrance.

Telephone Poles and Other Poems © 1961
by John Updike. Reprinted by permission of
Alfred A. Knopf, a division of Random House Inc

On Easter and Updike
by David E. Anderson

2010-03-30T15:51:00.002-06:00

Listen, I've light
in my eyes
and on my skin
the warmth of a star, so strange
is this
that I
can barely comprehend it:
I think
I'll lift my face to it, and then
I lift my face,
and don't even know how
this is done. And
everything alive
(and everything's
alive) is turning
into something else
as at the heart
of some annihilating
or is it creating
fire
that's burning, unseeably, always
burning at such speeds
as eyes cannot
detect, just try
to observe your own face
growing old
in the mirror, or
is it beginning
to be born?

~ Franz Wright ~

All Things Bright and Beautiful

2009-12-12T16:28:00.002-07:00

A postscript excerpt from Richard Dawkins latest book, The Greatest Show on Earth.

I have been warned that 'All things bright and beautiful' will not necessarily strike my readers as nostalgically as it does me. It is an Anglican hymn for children written by Mrs. C. F. Alexander in 1848, comfortably extolling the beauties of nature (and, in one verse, the political status quo) with the refrain, 'The Lord Gog made them all'. It is the subject of a splendid parody written by Eric Idle and sung by the Monty Python team:

All things dull and ugly
All creatures short and squat
All things rude and nasty
The Lord God made the lot.

Each little snake that poisons
Each little wasp that stings
He made their brutish venom
He made their horrid Wings.

All things sick and cancerous
All evil great and small
All things foul and dangerous
The Lord God made them all.

Each nasty little hornet
Each beastly little squid
Who made the spiky urchin?
Who made the sharks? He did!

All Thing scabbed and ulcerous
All pox both great and small
Putrid, foul and gangrenous
The Lord God made them all.

Joseph Campbell, 26 Mar1904 - 31 Oct 1987

2009-10-31T02:38:00.001-06:00

"All the old bindings are broken. Cosmological centers
now are anywhere and everywhere. The earth is a heavenly
body, most beautiful of all, and all poetry now is archaic
that fails to match the wonder of this view."

- Joseph Campbell, *Myths to Live By*

And everything comes to One,

2009-10-10T17:12:00.002-06:00

As we dance on, dance on, dance on.
- Theodore Roethke

2009-10-03T10:08:00.000-06:00

A human being is part of the whole called by us universe, a part
limited in time and space. We experience ourselves, our thoughts
and feelings as something separate from the rest. A kind of optical
delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for
us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few
persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from
the prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all
living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty. The true
value of a human being is determined primarily by the measure
and the sense in which they have obtained liberation from the self.
We shall require a substantially new manner of thinking if humanity
is to survive.

-Albert Einstein

Ramesh S. Balsekar 29 May 1917 - 27 Sept 2009

2009-09-27T09:01:00.001-06:00

Dear God, This is my record of eternal gratitude to You.

You gave me birth in a most respected Hindu family, but not high enough in social status to make me proud.

You gave me a physical form well-admired for its perfection, but it was small enough to keep me humble.

You gave me education high enough to be most useful in life, but not high enough to make me proud.

You gave me success in sports high enough to be satisfied, but not proud.

You gave me a career in which You took me high enough to be admired, but not high enough to make me arrogant.

You gave me a wife and family for which I have always been eternally grateful, but You did not spare me some grief to remind me not to forget what life is all about, and to be always grateful for what I do have.

You did not forget to place an adequate number of temptations in my way so that I may not be too critical of others who have to face their own temptations.

I am now 84, and perhaps the only wish that remains is that the long life You have given me will not carry a burden at the end. But in that case, I know You will also give me the necessary courage to go with it.

You gave me a lot to show me how little is needed to be content and how much could be given away.

And, undoubtedly, the most important of all - as if the bounty You have showered on me were not enough - You crowned Your achievement by using this psychosomatic apparatus to convey to the world the most important message of Advaita. Truly I am blessed. Or, indeed, my Beloved, have You not blessed Yourself?!

Finally, it occurs to me, if You were to design for Yourself a life in phenomenality, could it have been much different from this one?

And, for this thought, no tears are enough to wash Your Noumenal feet.

Ramesh S. Balsekar

Balsekar Is Ill

2009-09-12T10:18:00.007-06:00

We are neither different nor separate from Consciousness, and for that very reason we cannot 'apprehend' it. Nor can we 'integrate' with it because we have never been other than it. Consciousness can never be understood in relative terms. Therefore, there is nothing to be 'done' about it. All is Consciousness and we are That.

Ramesh S. Balsekar

Neither Out Far Nor In Deep

2009-08-27T21:18:00.002-06:00

The people along the sand

All turn and look one way.

They turn their back on the land.

They look at the sea all day.

As long as it takes to pass

A ship keeps raising its hull;

The wetter ground like glass

Reflects a standing gull.

The land may vary more;

But wherever the truth may be---

The water comes ashore,

And the people look at the sea.

They cannot look out far.

They cannot look in deep.

But when was that ever a bar

To any watch they keep?

~Robert Frost
Thanks to Andrew Sullivan

Reality

2009-08-27T16:37:00.000-06:00

"If you seek reality

you must set yourself free

of all backgrounds, of all cultures,

of all patterns of thinking and feeling.

Even the idea of being man or woman,

or even human should be discarded.

The ocean of life contains all,

not only humans.

So, first of all abandon all self-identification,

stop thinking of yourself as such-and-such

or so-and-so, this or that.

Abandon all self-concern,

worry not about your welfare,

material or spiritual.

Abandon every desire, gross or subtle,

stop thinking of achievement of any kind.

You are complete here and now,

you need absolutely nothing."

--Shri Nisargadatta Maharaj

WHAT IF EVERYTHING'S ALIVE AND CONSCIOUS?

2009-08-25T15:39:00.005-06:00

"If the universe is alive, if solar systems are alive, if galaxies are alive, if planets are alive, are they conscious? Or are they alive but unconscious, in the same way that perhaps a worm or a bacterium might be alive but unconscious? And is the kind of life that may exist in the cosmos more conscious than ourselves, or do we have to assume it's a great deal less conscious than ourselves? Are we the smartest beings in the universe? Now the usual answer of science is yes. I think that's a very improbable assumption."
Rupert Sheldrake "Physics of Angels"

Ribhu Gita 10 -33

2009-08-23T19:27:00.010-06:00

10. Then, addressing Nidagha, Ribhu said: I shall tell you
about the definition of the Self, which is not available in
all the triad of time--past, present, and future--

11. ever the most secret of the secret, by summarizing
what has been expounded by Siva. There is nothing that
can be talked of as non-Self, neither the mind as the
non-Self, nor the world as the non-Self. Be of the certitude
that there is nothing that is non-Self.

12. By the absence of all sankalpas, by the elimination
of all forms, by the conviction of there being only Brahman,
be of the certitude that there is not anything that is non- Self.

13. In the absence of mind, there is no thinking; in the
absence of the body, there is no aging. With the conviction
of there being only Brahman, be of the certitude that there
is no non-Self.

14. Because of the absence of feet, there is no walking;
because of the absence of hands, there is no work. There
being only Brahman alone, be of the certitude that there
is no non-Self.

15. Because of the absence of Brahma, the Creator, there is
no world; in the absence thereof, there is no Hari, the
sustainer. There being only Brahman alone, be of the
certitude that there is no non-Self.

16. In the absence of aging, there is no death; nor is there
the world or the Vedas or the gods. There being only
Brahman alone, be of the certitude that there is no non- Self.

17. There is no dharma (righteous conduct), no purity, no
[concept of] truth, no fear. There being only Brahman
alone, be of the certitude that there is no non-Self.

18. Because there is no decay, there is no movement.
Because there is no decay, there is no insentience. There
being only Brahman alone, be of the certitude that there is
no non-Self.

19. The Guru, indeed, does not exist; truly, there is no
disciple. There being only Brahman alone, be of the certitude
that there is no non-Self.

20. There being nothing that is the first, there is nothing
that is the second; there being no second, there is nothing
as the first. If there is the concept of truth, something as
nontruth will also arise.

21. If there be any concept of nontruth, a concept of truth
will also arise, with it. If there is inauspiciousness, know
that thereis a notion of auspiciousness. Likewise, if there is
auspiciousness, there will be inauspiciousness.

22. If you think of fearlessness, fear is postulated; fear is
concomitant with fearlessness. There being only Brahman
alone, be of the certitude that there is no non-Self.

23. If there is bondage, there is liberation; in the absence
of bondage, there is no liberation. If there is death, there
is birth; in the absence of birth, there is no death either.

24. If there is "you," there is" I;" if there is no "you," there
is no "I." If there is "this," there is "that;" in the absence
of "that," there is no "this" either.

25. "If it is there" implies something not being there; "it is
not there" implies something being there. If there is an
effect, there is some cause; in the absence of effect, there
is no cause.

26. If there is duality, there is (a concept of) nonduality; in
the absence of duality, there is no (concept of) nonduality
either. If there is something to be "seen," a seer is also
there; in the absence of anything to see, there is no seer
at all either.

27. If there is an interior, there surely is an exterior; if
there be no interior, there is also no exterior. If there be
(a concept of) completeness, it implies something of
incompleteness.

28. If there is a little that can be thought of, it becomes
all in no time; if there is not a little--nothing whatsoever
of anything at anytime--nothing arises.

29. Therefore, all this does not exist in the least at any
time: neither you nor I, neither this nor that. There being
only Brahman alone, be of the certitude that there is no
non-Self.

30. There is nothing by way of example in this world, nor
is there anything for which an example is to be given. There
being only Brahman alone, be of the certitude that there is
no non-Self.

31. There is no mind to think, "I am the Supreme Brahman,"
"This universe is only Brahman alone," "You are also only
Brahman."

32. I am Consciousness, and there is no non-Self. Be of this
certitude. Thus, in brief, the definition of the Self has been
told to you.

33. By hearing this once, one becomes Brahman oneself.

- Excerpt from the Ribhu Gita, translated from the original Sanskrit
by Dr. H. Ramamoorthy and Master Nome

2009-08-21T02:14:00.004-06:00

The momentum for this cosmic Game is created whenever
you pretend that what isn't, somehow, is far superior to what
is. Although this belief keeps you focused on a never-ending
journey towards happiness, enlightenment, etc., it also
guarantees that you will never reach a point of permanent
satisfaction and peace. Why? Because this whole notion of
being on a `journey-to-fulfillment' is actually the secret
method that the desperate ego uses in order to survive in
the face of personal annihilation by Consciousness.

In other words, as long as the ego stays more focused on
making the `journey,' it can continue to avoid disappearing
entirely in the blinding realization of the true identity of the
mystic `traveler.' This frenzied activity around pursuing
enlightenment helps the ego to maintain a sense of personal
doership. When what is not present is perceived as better
than what is present, the precious reality contained in this
very moment is inwardly resisted. However, Consciousness
has no opposite, it's the only thing that's present, and it can
never really change into `what isn't.'

It just is what it is. However, by pretending that `something
else is better,' the ego hopes to survive by enthusiastically
pursuing the disowned `other.' Of course, the cosmic joke, is
that the ego is caught on a selfgenerated treadmill because it
already `is' what it is looking for.

The valiant struggle to be enlightened secretly protects the ego
from being exposed as the phantom it truly is. As long as the
search continues unabated, the searcher is validated as being
separate from the very thing that he is searching for.

But, in Truth, we can never really run away from ourselves
because we already are who we are running from, and we
already are where we are running to.

-Chuck Hillig

Twigs

2009-08-18T23:27:00.006-06:00

(excerpt)

And so

it has taken me

all of sixty years

to understand

that water is the finest drink,

and bread the most delicious food,

and that art is worthless

unless it plants

a measure of splendor in people's hearts.

~ Taha Muhammad Ali ~

The Path

2009-07-31T20:02:00.002-06:00

All of us are apprenticed to the same teacher
that the religious institutions originally worked
with: reality. Reality-insight says ... master
the twenty-four hours. Do it well, without self-
pity. It is as hard to get the children herded
into the car pool and down the road to the bus
as it is to chant sutras in the Buddha-hall on
a cold morning. One move is not better than the
other, each can be quite boring, and they both
have the virtuous quality of repetition.

Repetition and ritual and their good results
come in many forms. Changing the filter, wiping
noses, going to meetings, picking up around the
house, washing dishes, checking the dipstick-don't
let yourself think these are distracting you from
your more serious pursuits. Such a round of chores
is not a set of difficulties we hope to escape
from so that we may do our "practice" which will
put us on a "path"-it is our path.

- GARY SNYDER, 'The Practice of the Wild'

I Am That

2009-07-25T21:50:00.000-06:00

“What you are looking for is what is looking.”
Saint Francis of Assisi

Now is the Time

2009-07-21T02:51:00.002-06:00

Now is the time to know
That all that you do is sacred.

Now, why not consider
A lasting truce with yourself and God.

Now is the time to understand
That all your ideas of right and wrong
Were just a child's training wheels
To be laid aside
When you finally live
With veracity
And love.

Hafiz is a divine envoy
Whom the Beloved
Has written a holy message upon.

My dear, please tell me,
Why do you still
Throw sticks at your heart
And God?

What is it in that sweet voice inside
That incites you to fear?

Now is the time for the world to know
That every thought and action is sacred.

This is the time
For you to compute the impossibility
That there is anything
But Grace.

Now is the season to know
That everything you do
Is sacred.

~ Hafiz ~

sheeple

2009-07-15T00:19:00.003-06:00

XKCD

Sunday Sermon VI

2009-07-12T19:56:00.000-06:00

The teachings of Advaita have resonated with me for some time. When I hear the words, "I am that", something in me knows that it's true. I know on a cellular level that I am not this. I'm not what I think I am. Neither are you. We've bought into this incredibly convincing story about ourselves, and the illusion is so real that we believe it without question. We cling to our stories, we become our stories, and seemingly there's no alternative to the attachment. Pain, joy, jealousy, lust - we're caught in a web of emotions, and the only escape is to numb ourselves with painkillers or to take ourselves out of the game completely. Or so it would seem.

But there's another way out. Recognize the illusion. See the emotions and the circumstances of your life for what they are - persuasive stories. Notice who's at the center of each story, and who's always "right". That in itself should tell you that something is amiss. We should be so tired of spinning our stories, but we go right on doing it, and thus the pain persists.

Advaita teaches that there is only a nondual universe, and everything is made from the same soup, and that soup is God (or Brahman, or That). So instead of being an independent ego that runs around making itself the center of every story, you're actually That. It's the most mind- and ego-blowing piece of information that you'll ever receive, and something inside you resonates when you hear it. Advaita shows up in Christianity as well: Saint Francis (pictured above) said, "What you are looking for is what is looking." And Meister Eckhart: "The eye with which I see God is the same eye with which God sees me." All the enlightened ones knew it, embodied it, and tried to show us that we too are it. You are it. There's nothing that you have to do. Running around and trying to find it would be like searching hither and thither for your own nose. Just relax, take a deep breath, let go of all effort, and there it is - you've found your nose. Awakening to your true nature is like this. It's so simple that almost everyone misses it.

I love the simplicity of Advaita. It's so counterintuitive to our culture. We think we need to work hard to gain anything, and in most cases that's true enough. But not when it comes to enlightenment. There's nothing to achieve. Just a simple recognition of what is, and that's That.

-Meg Hitchcock

Caretake This Moment

2009-07-06T20:01:00.002-06:00

Immerse yourself in its particulars.
Respond to this person, this challenge, this deed.

Quit the evasions.
Stop giving yourself needless trouble.
It is time to really live; to fully inhabit the situation you happen to be in now.
You are not some disinterested bystander.
Exert yourself.

Respect your partnership with providence.
Ask yourself often, How may I perform this particular deed
such that it would be consistent with and acceptable to the divine will?
Heed the answer and get to work.

When your doors are shut and your room is dark you are not alone.
The will of nature is within you as your natural genius is within.
Listen to its importunings.
Follow its directives.

As concerns the art of living, the material is your own life.
No great thing is created suddenly.
There must be time.

Give your best and always be kind.

~ Epictetus ~

Parade

2009-07-04T07:15:00.000-06:00

Peter says if you’re going to talk about suffering
you have to mention pleasure too.

Like the way, on the day of the parade, on Forbes Avenue,
one hundred parking tickets flutter
under the windshield wipers of one hundred parked cars.

The accordion band will be along soon,
and the famous Flying Pittsburgettes,
and it’s summer and the sun is shining on the inevitable flags—

Something weird to admire this week on TV:
the handsome face of the white supremacist on trial.
How he looks right back at the lawyers, day after day
—never objecting, never making an apology.

I look at his calm, untroubled face
and think, That motherfucker is going to die white and right,
disappointing everyone like me
who thinks that punishment should be a kind of education.

My attitude is like what God says in the Bible:
Love your brother, or be destroyed.

Then Moses or somebody says back to God,
If I love you,
will you destroy my enemies?
and God says—this is in translation—, No Problemo.

Here, everyone is talking about the price of freedom,
and about how we as a people are united in our down payment.
about how we will fight to the very bottom of our bank account.

And the sky is so blue it looks like it may last forever
and the skinny tuba player goes oompahpah
and everybody cheers.

In the big store window of the travel agency downtown,
a ten-foot sign says, WE WILL NEVER FORGET.

The letters have been cut with scissors out of blue construction paper
and pasted carefully to the sign by someone’s hand.

What I want to know is, who will issue the ticket
for improper use of the collective pronoun?

What I want to know is, who will find and punish the maker
of these impossible promises?

Tony Hoagland

from What Narcissism Means to Me; Greywolf Press, 2003

Kris Johnson July 4, 1951 - January 5, 1985

2009-07-04T03:03:00.001-06:00

TOO MANY NAMES

Mondays are meshed with Tuesdays
and the week with the whole year.
Time cannot be cut
with your weary scissors,
and all the names of the day
are washed out by the waters of night.

No one can claim the name of Pedro,
nobody is Rosa or Maria,
all of us are dust or sand,
all of us are rain under rain.
They have spoken to me of Venezuelas,
of Chiles and of Paraguays;
I have no idea what they are saying.
I know only the skin of the earth
and I know it is without a name.

When I lived amongst the roots
they pleased me more than flowers did,
and when I spoke to a stone
it rang like a bell.

It is so long, the spring
which goes on all winter.
Time lost its shoes.
A year is four centuries.

When I sleep every night,
what am I called or not called?
And when I wake, who am I
if I was not while I slept?

This means to say that scarcely
have we landed into life
than we come as if new-born;
let us not fill our mouths
with so many faltering names,
with so many sad formalities,
with so many pompous letters,
with so much of yours and mine,
with so much of signing of papers.

I have a mind to confuse things,
unite them, bring them to birth,
mix them up, undress them,
until the light of the world
has the oneness of the ocean,
a generous, vast wholeness,
a crepitant fragrance.
Pablo Neruda

Tarantulas on the Lifebuoy

2009-07-01T14:35:00.007-06:00

For some semitropical reason
when the rains fall
relentlessly they fall

into swimming pools, these otherwise
bright and scary
arachnids. They can swim
a little, but not for long

and they can't climb the ladder out.
They usually drown - but
if you want their favor,
if you believe there is justice,
a reward for not loving

the death of ugly
and even dangerous (the eel, hog snake,
rats) creatures, if

you believe these things, then
you would leave a lifebuoy
or two in your swimming pool at night.

And in the morning
you would haul ashore
the huddled, hairy survivors

and escort them
back to the bush, and know,
be assured that at least these saved,
as individuals, would not turn up

again someday
in your hat, drawer,
or the tangled underworld

of your socks, and that even -
when your belief in justice
merges with your belief in dreams -
they may tell the others

in a sign language
four times as subtle
and complicated as man's

that you are good,
that you love them,
that you would save them again
Thomas Lux

Classification Is A Human Achievement

2009-06-29T23:29:00.002-06:00

To see and feel nature from within means not asking what the world is. Classification is a human achievement which separates the human from nature--and separation always means conflict and unhappiness.
Continuous change and ultimate destruction after a certain duration is the very nature of all phenomena. Adversity and prosperity, happiness and misery, birth and death are inescapable aspects of the natural process of causality, but it is only anxiety and nothing else that is the root cause of suffering in this world. The man of wisdom, divorced from his senses, wants nothing, grieves for nothing, and fears nothing, and thus he lives in total freedom from anxiety.
Ramesh S. Balsekar

Sunday Sermon V

2009-06-28T12:12:00.003-06:00

I invite you to listen really deeply and with your whole body, every cell, to the wordless invisible Aliveness that is here. Say yes to being no one. Yes to resting in Nothing. Yes to open palmed, emptied-out pockets, open-hearted clueless offering of your whole being to just right here. Good-bye cleverness, good-bye being right, good-bye getting ahead, good-bye being on top. Welcome to nowhere.

Let everything die here. Let everything be washed away here. Let yourself be made so new, bathed in your own Innocent being. Giving over everything else to the Ocean and letting it dissolve like salt.

We must be emptied over and over and over. We must empty as the Holy, before the Holy, humbled, nothing, offered, waiting on nothing, listening deeply to nothing.

We are much vaster than our minds can conceive. We must be charmed, tricked, invited, welcomed, kept company with, to drop out of our everyday social reality, into right here.

We want to be moved by something other than fear. We have to let the winds come and the rains come and the storms come and be pushed to the ground. We must cling to It, beg Its mercy for every foolish moment that we thought that we were someone and could get somewhere without This.

Dare to say the dangerous prayer: Holy Nothing, take everything that's not You and leave me here, naked, stripped of every pretending and striving. Only in the Nothing, only as Nothing, only as No One, will I ever find what I'm looking for. So take my quest for enlightenment and take my fears that I'm a schmuck and just leave me here without a clue, completely open. No idea what I am or where I'm going. Just here, the quiet open, waiting for your Breath to play me.

We don't need any improvement. We don't need anything more. We just need to stop and notice. And let be whatever's here, meet it. Until we have the kind of heart that's so empty for having kissed everything in it, that it can kiss anything and call it Beloved.

There are a few kinds of peace. There's one that can be shattered because it's based on quiet music and having things just the way we feel comfortable having them. There's that kind of peace, which is a relative peace. And then there's the peace that is always here, if we check, as this content-less awareness looking out of our eyes. That content-less awareness that all of our freak-outs arise in, is never freaked out.

To be a sensitive squishy being in a loud world hurts sometimes. To witness cruelty, or to have it aimed at us, hurts. That's not a mistake. It's not a shortcoming. This is the nature of being alive and in the raw moment, is that things that are delusion, hurt.

We think when our hearts start to melt that there's something wrong. When the heart starts to ache we start to become so sensitive to the smallest hatred, whether at us or someone hating themselves. We think that's all wrong, that we're supposed to transcend all that and just smile. The only true transcendence, truly embodied transcendence, happens by meeting everything and kissing it right on the face. Anything else is an escape.

We are here for the Holy to unfold through us. There is not a single one left out of that. Not a single one in whom the process of unfolding is not happening, just perfectly.

- Jeannie Zandi. http://jeanniezandi.com/ .

Stonewall June 28, 1969 - June 28, 2009

2009-06-28T11:13:00.007-06:00

"Perish miserably they who think that these men did or suffered aught disgraceful."
Philip II of Macedon

Statue erected at the mass grave of The Sacred
Band of Thebes, 300 male lovers annihilated by
Alexander at the Battle of Chaeronea, 338 BC

The Unreal

2009-06-28T03:36:00.008-06:00

"Christianity is one way of putting words together and
Hinduism is another. The real is behind and beyond words, incommunicable, directly experienced, explosive in its effect on the mind. It is easily had when nothing else is wanted. The unreal is created by imagination and perpetuated by desire."
Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

James Baker Hall 14 April 1935 - 25 June 2009

2009-06-26T20:07:00.005-06:00

The Mother on the Other Side of the World

a yellow cat from the next field over hungry finds
her way to the feed bowls inside our toolshed atop
the deepfreeze our striped gray lets this happen
then moves low to the ground
into position crouching outside
staring at the only escape
too frightened now
to eat the stray too stares at it
neither can see the other
for the longest time
something dark emerges
almost audibly circles
of their silence their
motionlessness pulse out
into the greater commotions the spins and counterspins
including the entire backyard the neighboring fields
many horses the adjoining areas
each of us moving in God knows
how many different directions at once
these two cats one almost wild
the other almost domesticated
get their version of it
line up perfectly
great longing compacted
their own little seesaw
the whole backyard seesaws
the mother on the other side
of the world
many fears
but only this one silence
the stray’s tail was all I saw
of her when she got out of there
that night beginning the plot of this story
I was to see about that much of her
again the next night in my headlights
at the side of a narrow road
a half mile away
yellow eyes
echoing outward the darkness it was
gonglike and out there in the expanding middle
I was to see more and more of her
in the days to follow
she hangs out in the culvert
I pull off the road and climb down
with a plastic cup of food
emptying it out on a scrap board I took down there
she stays at the other end of the culvert
as though she’d never ever come closer
sweet talk doesn’t run her off
but she prefers quiet it seems
occasionally she’ll have a dead mouse
or chipmunk prominently displayed
a gift for me perhaps or maybe
a reminder of the role
she allows me to play
she never lets me see her
lick herself or sleep

— James Baker Hall, The Mother on the Other Side of the World (Sarabande, 1999)

Dirge for Michael Jackson

2009-06-25T18:30:00.001-06:00

Andrew Sullivan . . . .

Michael Jackson 29 August 1958 - 25 June 2009

2009-06-25T16:57:00.003-06:00

Michael Jackson - Leave Me Alone
Uploaded by Stella78. - Watch more music videos, in HD!

Wash Me Clean

2009-06-23T22:21:00.005-06:00

HERE . . . . . . . . . . .

2009-06-22T01:59:00.001-06:00

Sunday Sermon IV

2009-06-21T05:21:00.001-06:00

They Ask: Is God, Too, Lonely?
When God scooped up a handful of dust,
And spit on it, and molded the shape of man,
And blew breath into it and told it to walk—
That was a great day.

And did God do this because he was lonely?
Did God say to Himself he must have company
And therefore he would make a man to walk the earth
And set apart churches for speech and song with God?

These are questions.
They are scrawled in old caves.
They are painted in tall cathedrals.
There are men and women so lonely they believe
God, too, is lonely.
Carl Sandburg
from Harvest Poems 1910-1960; Harvest Books 1960

"I Am That I Am"

2009-06-10T19:39:00.005-06:00

sums up the whole truth; the method is summarized in "Be Still."

To know the truth of one's Self as the sole Reality, and to merge and become one with it, is the only true Realization. Just be the Self, that is all.

Because people want something elaborate and mysterious, so many religions have come into existence. Only those who are mature can understand the matter in its naked simplicity. The ultimate truth is so simple; it is nothing more than being in one's natural, original state. It is a great wonder that to teach such a simple truth a number of religions should be necessary, and so many disputes should go on between them as to which is the God-ordained teaching. What a pity!

Your duty is to Be, and not be this or that.

The state we call Realization is simply being one's self, not knowing anything or becoming anything. It is not a matter of becoming but of Being. Because people love mystery and not the truth, religions cater to them, eventually bringing them around to the Self.

Whatever be the means adopted, you must at last return to the Self; so why not abide in the Self here and now? There is no greater mystery than this: Being Reality ourselves, we seek to gain Reality. Abide as the Self. Do not look for teachings...for the Self is beyond knowledge and ignorance.

- Ramana Maharshi, from The Essential Teachings of Ramana Maharshi- A Visual Journey

Meh

2009-06-10T00:04:00.004-06:00

Since one was not concerned with the phenomenon of one's birth, why should one be concerned with phenomenon of death? Indeed, there really is no ONE who need be concerned with anything. It is only this very concern, in fact, that constitutes one's bondage as a personal entity.

Impermanence

2009-06-08T01:20:00.000-06:00

Monk Mojo's 1,000 Cuts

Sunday Sermon III

2009-06-07T13:45:00.005-06:00

Believe those who are seeking the truth.
Doubt those who find it.
Andre Gide (1869 - 1951)

Dzogchen Practice in Everyday Life

2009-06-01T03:01:00.000-06:00

The everyday practice of dzogchen is simply to develop a complete carefree acceptance, an openness to all situations without limit.

We should realize openness as the playground of our emotions and relate to people without artificiality, manipulation or strategy.

We should experience everything totally, never withdrawing into ourselves as a marmot hides in its hole. This practice releases tremendous energy which is usually constricted by the process of maintaining fixed reference points. Referentiality is the process by which we retreat from the direct experience of everyday life.

Being present in the moment may initially trigger fear. But by welcoming the sensation of fear with complete openness, we cut through the barriers created by habitual emotional patterns.

When we engage in the practice of discovering space, we should develop the feeling of opening ourselves out completely to the entire universe. We should open ourselves with absolute simplicity and nakedness of mind. This is the powerful and ordinary practice of dropping the mask of self-protection.

We shouldn't make a division in our meditation between perception and field of perception. We shouldn't become like a cat watching a mouse. We should realise that the purpose of meditation is not to go "deeply into ourselves" or withdraw from the world. Practice should be free and non-conceptual, unconstrained by introspection and concentration.

Vast unoriginated self-luminous wisdom space is the ground of being - the beginning and the end of confusion. The presence of awareness in the primordial state has no bias toward enlightenment or non-enlightenment. This ground of being which is known as pure or original mind is the source from which all phenomena arise. It is known as the great mother, as the womb of potentiality in which all things arise and dissolve in natural self-perfectedness and absolute spontaneity.

All aspects of phenomena are completely clear and lucid. The whole universe is open and unobstructed - everything is mutually interpenetrating.

Seeing all things as naked, clear and free from obscurations, there is nothing to attain or realise.

The nature of phenomena appears naturally and is naturally present in time-transcending awareness. Everything is naturally perfect just as it is. All phenomena appear in their uniqueness as part of the continually changing pattern. These patterns are vibrant with meaning and significance at every moment; yet there is no significance to attach to such meanings beyond the moment in which they present themselves.

This is the dance of the five elements in which matter is a symbol of energy and energy a symbol of emptiness. We are a symbol of our own enlightenment. With no effort or practice whatsoever, liberation or enlightenment is already here.

The everyday practice of dzogchen is just everyday life itself. Since the undeveloped state does not exist, there is no need to behave in any special way or attempt to attain anything above and beyond what you actually are. There should be no feeling of striving to reach some "amazing goal" or "advanced state."

To strive for such a state is a neurosis which only conditions us and serves to obstruct the free flow of Mind. We should also avoid thinking of ourselves as worthless persons - we are naturally free and unconditioned. We are intrinsically enlightened and lack nothing.

When engaging in meditation practice, we should feel it to be as natural as eating, breathing and defecating. It should not become a specialised or formal event, bloated with seriousness and solemnity. We should realise that meditation transcends effort, practice, aims, goals and the duality of liberation and non-liberation. Meditation is always ideal; there is no need to correct anything. Since everything that arises is simply the play of mind as such, there is no unsatisfactory meditation and no need to judge thoughts as good or bad.

Therefore we should simply sit. Simply stay in your own place, in your own condition just as it is. Forgetting self-conscious feelings, we do not have to think "I am meditating." Our practice should be without effort, without strain, without attempts to control or force and without trying to become "peaceful."

If we find that we are disturbing ourselves in any of these ways, we stop meditating and simply rest or relax for a while. Then we resume our meditation. If we have "interesting experiences" either during or after meditation, we should avoid making anything special of them. To spend time thinking about experiences is simply a distraction and an attempt to become unnatural. These experiences are simply signs of practice and should be regarded as transient events. We should not attempt to re-experience them because to do so only serves to distort the natural spontaneity of mind.

All phenomena are completely new and fresh, absolutely unique and entirely free from all concepts of past, present and future. They are experienced in timelessness.

The continual stream of new discovery, revelation and inspiration which arises at every moment is the manifestation of our clarity. We should learn to see everyday life as mandala - the luminous fringes of experience which radiate spontaneously from the empty nature of our being. The aspects of our mandala are the day-to-day objects of our life experience moving in the dance or play of the universe. By this symbolism the inner teacher reveals the profound and ultimate significance of being. Therefore we should be natural and spontaneous, accepting and learning from everything. This enables us to see the ironic and amusing side of events that usually irritate us.

In meditation we can see through the illusion of past, present and future - our experience becomes the continuity of nowness. The past is only an unreliable memory held in the present. The future is only a projection of our present conceptions. The present itself vanishes as soon as we try to grasp it. So why bother with attempting to establish an illusion of solid ground?

We should free ourselves from our past memories and preconceptions of meditation. Each moment of meditation is completely unique and full of potentiality. In such moments, we will be incapable of judging our meditation in terms of past experience, dry theory or hollow rhetoric.

Simply plunging directly into meditation in the moment now, with our whole being, free from hesitation, boredom or excitement, is enlightenment.

by HH Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

Sunday's Sermon II

2009-05-31T01:31:00.004-06:00

Willing to die,

You give up

your will. Keep still

until, moved

by what moves

all else, you move.

Wendell Berry

2009-05-27T01:21:00.003-06:00

The entire manifested creation presents a cosmic dance by the Divine Dancer, executed to the tune of time on the stage of space, and the dance cannot be differentiated from the dancer.
Balsekar

2009-05-26T09:02:00.000-06:00

The little space within the heart is as great as the vast universe. The heavens and the earth are there, and the sun and the moon and the stars. Fire and lightening and winds are there, and all that now is and all that is not.
— The Upanishads

2009-05-25T19:36:00.008-06:00

"Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today,
at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least
we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so,
let us all be thankful." - Buddha

Memorial Day 25 May 2009

2009-05-25T15:26:00.006-06:00

Soldiers are not chunks of identical clay; each of them has a story,
their own reasons for being caught in a war.

Brave? Maybe - sometimes, under some conditions. Scared, mostly.
The younger they are, the more likely their presence had to do with
restlessness, cockiness. The need to be part of a winning team, the
desire to even a score. Kick ass, take names. Kill them all, let God
sort them out.

The older they are, the more realistic they are. This was a steady
paycheck, or a way to supplement the one they already had. When
they join, it's with their eyes on the future benefit. When they're
in the middle of a war, they think only of surviving the next five
minutes. Please, God, please. Let me see my family again.

And when they die in the war, each death leaves a hole in the
world. It's important to remember that, to not see them as a
monolithic casualty list or as an acceptable loss.

No loss is acceptable. Ask the parents, the spouses, the children.
They try. They tell themselves stories of nobility, sacrifice, a
greater cause. They cover it up with the ritual rhetoric. But deep
down, they must wonder.

Here is how to count the cost: In high school graduation pictures
that will never be replaced with wedding pictures. In wedding
rings that will never be worn smooth by years. By the daughters
who will walk down the aisle with an uncle or brother instead
of Dad. By the sons who will find themselves angry and lost,
not understanding why. The children who will hear about their
mother's eyes, their father's chin but won't ever see themselves
reflected in that face. By the parents who now understand the
quiet obscenity of outliving their own children.

Each and every one of these deaths left a hole in the world.
That is why we count them.

They mattered

~Susan Madrax, Memorial Day 2005

2009-05-24T22:14:00.002-06:00

In true acceptance of the will of God, there is no acceptor at all.
Ultimate understanding can only be pure silence. There is no
question of any "one" understanding anything or accepting
anything.
Ramesh S. Balsekar

James Kirkup 23 April 1918 – 10 May 2009

2009-05-20T20:42:00.006-06:00

Damn the culture ministry

My lover from Asakusa, a blooming boy,
He who adorned his amber body
With a swirling tattoo
Of the goddess Kwannon surrounded
By ferns, wildflowers, flags
And had a capering carp
Illuminating each vigorous buttock —

He whose suit of ink,
Blue and black and dogrose pink,
Was the one garment
I could not divest him of —
When he pulled back
His periwinkled foreskin, he discovered,
Always with a broken smile,
A gay butterfly on the glans penis.

Now the Culture Ministry
Has proclaimed him
Not only a National Treasure, but
An Intangible National Treasure!

Now I no longer
Hold him in my arms like a warm
Sheaf of poppies and wheat, no more
Stroke that golden-amber shoulder
Stained with a lace of sugarbag blue,
No more bedew
With tears and kisses his
Empurpled butterfly...

I can't get my hands on him.
Our love is finished,
Broken by banal politicians.

Now he belongs to the Nation,
Which means he belongs to no one,
And especially not to me.
I always put him on a pedestal,
But not like this!
He might as well be behind glass,
Stuffed and docketed in the National Museum.

This poem appeared in the seminal anthology of gay
male poets edited by Ian Young in 1972: The Male Muse.

Halleluiah

2009-05-18T16:30:00.005-06:00

Everyone should be born into this world happy

and loving everything.
But in truth it rarely works that way.
For myself, I have spent my life clamoring toward it.
Halleluiah, anyway I'm not where I started!

And have you too been trudging like that, sometimes
almost forgetting how wondrous the world is
and how miraculously kind some people can be?
And have you too decided that probably nothing important
is ever easy?
Not, say, for the first sixty years.

Halleluiah, I'm sixty now, and even a little more,
and some days I feel I have wings.

~ Mary Oliver

Wonder of Silence

2009-05-13T23:12:00.002-06:00

The wonder of silence, of being, of God, of nothingness, of awareness is that there is nothing you need to do to get anything or any of it. I repeat there is nothing that needs to be done, by you or anyone else. Pure Silence is, now. Our only problem is that we have been taught and conditioned by years and years of belief systems that we are not in touch with that which is infinite, that which is unnamed, unknowable and all mighty. And so we have invented philosophies and religions and techniques and there have been prophets and messiahs and teachers and gurus and a myriad of self-help seminars and books about it all. I say to you now, you need none of it. There is nothing to find out which is not already here right now. There is nothing to understand, nothing to learn ,nothing to experience, no enlightenment, no salvation, no heaven and no hell, no savior and no devil. There is only a subtle awareness you have right now that you are and that this awareness is gentle, silent and loving. You are the silence. All you need do is realize that by attending to that. Jesus said "the Kingdom of Heaven is within you." Yes, that is where you should look, within your very being, mind, brain, soul, whatever. See what is always there, always stable, always you. Once you see that, once you feel that, once you know that, there is nothing more to learn or know. Then you start to live your human life with it's myriads of problems and situations out of that. And your life is lived out of this silent peace and anything that arises in your life will be met in the Pure Silence and you will know how to respond to whatever comes your way, in truth, in compassion and in total reliance on that which contains you and is you.
- Mark McCloskey

Meditating deeply

2009-05-13T23:03:00.001-06:00

... reach the depth of the source. Branching streams cannot compare to this source! Sitting alone in a great silence, even though the heavens turn and the earth is upset, you will not even wink.
~ Nyogen Senzaki

Another Spring

2009-05-12T20:30:00.003-06:00

The seasons revolve and the years change
With no assistance or supervision.
The moon, without taking thought,
Moves in is cycle, full, crescent, and full.

The white moon enters the heart of the river;
The air is drugged with azalea blossoms;
Deep in the night a pine cone falls;
Our campfire dies out in the empty mountains.

The sharp stars flicker in the tremulous branches;
The lake is black, bottomless in the crystalline night;
High in the sky the Northern Crown
Is cut in half by the dim summit of a snow peak.

O heart, heart, so singularly
Intransigent and corruptible,
Here we lie entranced by the starlit water,
And moments that should each last forever

Slide unconsciously by us like water.

~Kenneth Rexroth

2009-05-11T13:06:00.000-06:00

"The person who finds his homeland sweet is still a tender beginner; he to whom every soil is as his native one is already strong; but he is perfect to whom the entire world is as a foreign place. The tender soul has fixed his love on one spot in the world; the strong person has extended his love to all places; the perfect man extinguished his."
Hugo St. Victor, 12th Century.

In the smithy of the Sun

2009-05-11T06:44:00.003-06:00

It is one of the wonders of science that we can tell exactly what distant galaxies, stars and nebulas are made of by a spectral analysis of their light. And the unsurprising answer is that they are made of exactly the same elements as the Earth. I say "unsurprising," but that is only from our modern perspective. For most of human history it was assumed that the heavens were made of other stuff, less mundane, more ethereal. But no. It's hydrogen, helium, carbon, oxygen, and all the other familiar atoms that make up our terrestrial environment. But not in uniform abundances. There is about ten times more of the heavier elements -- carbon and oxygen, say -- relative to hydrogen and helium in the shell of an exploded star (such as the Cat's Eye Nebula above) than in the surrounding gaseous medium. That's because heavy elements are forged in stars as they burn, fused from hydrogen and helium, and when a star dies explosively it sheds these elements to space -- to perhaps become in the fullness of time other stars and planets. In the beginning, in the wake of the big bang, there was only hydrogen and helium. Stars, yes. Galaxies of stars. And big gassy planets like Jupiter. But no solid planets like Earth with cores of iron, shells of silicon and oxygen, and biospheres of carbon-based life. Many stars had to live and die in the arms of the Milky Way Galaxy to make the stuff of Earth and life. Starlight is the product. We are the ash. There are about 10²⁷ carbon atoms in a human body. That's 1000000000000000000000000000 carbon atoms, and every one was fused in a star that lived and died before the Sun and Earth were born. These atoms are passed around. I got mine from food, ultimately from the air and soil. I'm only using them temporarily. I'll give them back. Maybe some of my carbon atoms once resided in the body of Archimedes. Maybe some will eventually end up in my great-great-great-great -grandchildren's shoe polish or cucumbers. You can never step in the same river twice, said Heraclitus. Everything flows. We are a river of atoms -- we coalesce, we effervesce, we disperse. A human soul is an eddy in a whirlwind. Enjoy it while you can.
~~~Science Musings Blog

2009-05-11T03:42:00.002-06:00

Death is Smaller Than I Thought

2009-05-10T03:26:00.000-06:00

My Mother and Father died some years ago
I loved them very much.
When they died my love for them
Did not vanish or fade away.
It stayed just about the same,
Only a sadder colour.
And I can feel their love for me,
Same as it ever was.

Nowadays, in good times or bad,
I sometimes ask my Mother and Father
To walk beside me or to sit with me
So we can talk together
Or be silent.

They always come to me.
I talk to them and listen to them
And think I hear them talk to me.
It's very simple –
Nothing to do with spiritualism
Or religion or mumbo jumbo.

It is imaginary.
It is real.
It is love.
Adrian Mitchell

The Earth is a Satellite of the Moon

2009-05-09T16:33:00.006-06:00

Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty

Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty

Apollo 4 cost more than Apollo 3
Apollo 3 cost more than Apollo 2
Apollo 2 cost more than Apollo 1
Apollo 1 cost plenty

Apollo 8 cost a fortune, but no one minded
because the astronauts were Protestant
they read the Bible from the moon
astounding and delighting every Christian
and on their return Pope Paul VI gave them his blessing.

Apollo 9 cost more than all these put together
including Apollo 1 which cost plenty.

The great-grandparents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the grandparents.
The great-grandparents died of hunger.
The grandparents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the parents.
The grandparents died of hunger.
The parents of the people of Acahualinca were less
hungry than the children of the people there.
The parents died of hunger.
The people of Acahualinca are less hungry then the children
of the people there.
The children of the people of Acahaulinca, because of hunger,
are not born
they hunger to be born, only to die of hunger.
Blessed are the poor for they shall inherit the moon.

Leonel Rugama

translation: Sara Miles, Richard Schaaf & Nancy Weisberg
from: Poetry Like Bread, Curbstone Press, 1994

Vaishakh Poornima

2009-05-09T03:09:00.006-06:00

Lotus Lantern Festival celebrating
Buddha's Birthday, in South Korea

Laughing at . . .

2009-05-08T17:25:00.005-06:00

LISTEN . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they're starving or freezing or so very poor

No one laughs at God when the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one's laughing at God when it's gotten real late
And their kid's not back from the party yet
No one laughs at God when their airplane starts to uncontrollably shake
No one's laughing at God when they see the one they love
Hand in hand with someone else and they hope they're mistaken

No one laughs at God when the cops knock on their door
And they say we got some bad news, sir
No one's laughing at God when there's a famine, fire or flood

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they're 'bout to choke

God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
Ha ha
Ha ha

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they've lost all they've got
And they don't know what for

No one laughs at God on the day they realize that the last sight they'll ever see
Is a pair of hateful eyes
No one's laughing at God when they're saying their goodbyes

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they're 'bout to choke

God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughing at God in a hospital
No one's laughing at God in a war

No one's laughing at god when they're starving or freezing or so very poor

No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
We're all laughing with God

Thanks to jasimotx for the lyrics!

Kent State 4 May 1970

2009-05-04T17:31:00.004-06:00

Here . . . .

2009-05-03T23:21:00.003-06:00

The New Yorker

2009-05-02T07:59:00.004-06:00

"Time is in the mind, space is in the mind. The law of cause and
effect is also a way of thinking. In reality all is here and now, all
is one. Multiplicity and diversity are in the mind only."
Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

In the mechanics of intellect, conceptualization is a process where only one part of the mental operation is favored, not just by ignoring the other part but by specifically rejecting it. We have thus become so conditioned to accept the rational intellect and reject wild intuition that we feel ourselves enslaved by nature, where as it is not nature that enslaves us but our attachment to our particular interpretation of it. We forget that nature is not different from us - we are nature. Indeed, it is this separation from the rest of nature that we ourselves create which is the cause of all our conflict both within and without and of our wanton destruction of nature itself.
Ramesh S. Balsekar

Dance of the Five Elements

2009-04-30T18:40:00.008-06:00

"Seeing all things as naked, clear and free from obscurations, there is nothing to attain or realize. The nature of phenomena appears naturally and is naturally present in time-transcending awareness. Everything is naturally perfect just as it is. All phenomena appear in their uniqueness as part of the continually changing pattern. These patterns are vibrant with meaning and significance at every moment; yet there is no significance to attach to such meanings beyond the moment in which they present themselves.

This is the dance of the five elements in which matter is a symbol of energy and energy a symbol of emptiness. We are a symbol of our own enlightenment. With no effort or practice whatsoever, liberation or enlightenment is already here. The everyday practice of dzogchen is just everyday life itself. Since the undeveloped state does not exist, there is no need to behave in any special way or attempt to attain anything above and beyond what you actually are. There should be no feeling of striving to reach some 'amazing goal' or "advanced state."

~HH Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche

2009-04-28T19:19:00.000-06:00

Onwards from AKQA on Vimeo.

Before The Flood

2009-04-26T08:13:00.002-06:00

Why did he promise me
that we would build ourselves
an ark all by ourselves
out in back of the house
on New York Avenue
in Union City New Jersey

to the singing of the streetcars
after the story
of Noah whom nobody
believed about the waters
that would rise over everything
when I told my father
I wanted us to build
an ark of our own there
in the back yard under
the kitchen could we do that
he told me that we could
I want to I said and will we
he promised me that we would
why did he promise that
I wanted us to start then
nobody will believe us
I said that we are building
an ark because the rains
are coming and that was true
nobody ever believed
we would build an ark there
nobody would believe
that the waters were coming.

W. S. Mervin

(Painting: Edward Hicks.)

Deep gratitude to Andrew Sullivan

This Dream

2009-04-23T00:12:00.006-06:00

Why is it all so beautiful,
this fake dream,
this craziness?
Why?

Oh! green, green willow
wonderfully red flower,
but I know the colors are not there.

- Ikkyu 1394-1481

Earth Day 2009

2009-04-22T04:52:00.004-06:00

Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

~John Lennon

2009-04-20T22:33:00.005-06:00

You are not an individual being, let alone an individual doer.
You're not even an individual entity! You are nothing. You
are merely a pattern of vibrating energy. Truly understanding
that, with conviction, will help tremendously.

The joke is that it is the ego, the "me," that wants enlightenment,
and enlightenment cannot come until the "me" is demolished.

Ramesh S. Balsekar

Watching

2009-04-20T22:23:00.003-06:00

"Develop the witness attitude and you will find in
your own experience that detachment brings control.
The state of witnessing is full of power; there is
nothing passive about it."

Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

It's All So Elegant

2009-04-20T20:19:00.007-06:00

There is no attainment and no cultivation of original nature. You are Consciousness, not a farmer! Why work for that which you already are? Do not mentate, do not stir a thought. Trying to get out of superimposed bondage, which is the notion that you are separate from Existence, you will land in superimposed freedom.
- Papaji

A Week With Eckhart Tolle (day 1)

2009-04-20T04:15:00.002-06:00

"Fear arises through identification with form, whether
it be a material possession, a physical body, a social role,'
a self-image, a thought, or an emotion. It arises through
unawareness of the formless inner dimension of
consciousness or spirit, which is the essence of who you are.
You are trapped in object consciousness, unaware of the
dimension of inner space which alone is true freedom."

A Week With Eckhart Tolle (day 2)

2009-04-19T04:07:00.003-06:00

"Internal and external are ultimately one. When you no longer
perceive the world as hostile, there is no more fear, and when
there is no more fear, you think, speak and act differently.
Love and compassion arise, and they affect the world."

A Week With Eckhart Tolle (day 3)

2009-04-18T22:41:00.002-06:00

"Most people's lives are run by desire and fear. Desire is the
need to add something to yourself in order to be yourself more
fully. All fear is the fear of losing something and thereby
becoming diminished and being less. These two movements obscure
the fact that Being cannot be given or taken away. Being in its
fullness is already within you, Now."

A Week With Eckhart Tolle (day 4)

2009-04-18T10:04:00.000-06:00

"Choice implies consciousness - a high degree of consciousness.
Without it, you have no choice. Choice begins the moment you
disidentify from the mind and its conditioned patterns, the moment
you become present....Nobody chooses dysfunction, conflict, pain.
Nobody chooses insanity. They happen because there is not enough
presence in you to dissolve the past, not enough light to dispel the
darkness. You are not fully here. You have not quite woken up yet.
In the meantime, the conditioned mind is running your life."

A Week With Eckhart Tolle (day 5)

2009-04-17T09:42:00.005-06:00

"The most common ego identifications have to do with possessions,
the work you do, social status and recognition, knowledge and
education, physical appearance, special abilities, relationships,
personal and family history, belief systems, and often political,
nationalistic, racial, religious, and other collective identifications.
None of these is you."

A Week With Eckhart Tolle (day 6)

2009-04-16T23:55:00.005-06:00

"There is never a time when your life is not "this moment."
Is this not a fact?"

A Week With Eckhart Tolle (day 7)

2009-04-16T15:05:00.007-06:00

"Being is the eternal, ever-present One Life beyond the myriad
forms of life that are subject to birth and death. However, Being
is not only beyond but also deep within every form as its innermost
invisible and indestructible essence. This means that it is
accessible to you now as your own deepest self, your true nature.
But don't seek to grasp it with your mind. Don't try to understand
it. You can know it only when the mind is still."

The Long-Term Marriage

2009-04-13T10:59:00.005-06:00

At last she's happy, reigning with her creams,
rubbing his scalp's roof until it gleams.
As the squamous-cell carcinomas sprout,
the local dermatologist cuts them out

or frosts the lunar surface with liquid nitrogen.
The creams come from West Fourteenth Street, Manhattan,
FedExed from their adopted son's boyfriend's home,
a relationship that remains, to them, unknown.

Their Oriental rugs are steeped in piss
from the bulldog barking like an activist.
Bickering over misplaced books, the tchotchkes
lost, and how she re-remembers her stories,

they wait with an unfinished, finished look,
and note how honeysuckle crowns Old Saybrook
and thistles overrun their last garden.
The dash between their dates is nearly done.
by Spencer Reece

Easter Sunday Sermon

2009-04-12T01:21:00.004-06:00

I have often quoted here the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, mostly from the Duino Elegies or The Sonnets of Orpheus. We now have a new translation of Rilke's earlier The Book of Hours, by Susan Ranson, which I have been reading, and on this eve of Easter I offer a short poem from the First Book: The Book of Monkish Life.

I find your trace in all these things, in all
that like a brother I am careful for;
you sun yourself, a seed, within the small
and in the great give yourself the more.

This the mysterious play of forces, then,
that serve in things, over and under ground:
that rise in roots, narrow into the stem,
and in the crown like resurrection stand.

The poems of The Book of Hours, written when Rilke was in his mid-twenties, are as the title suggests addressed to God, but his is a strange and unfamiliar sort of deity. Not quite the transcendent God of the theist, who lives outside of the creation. Nor is he quite the immanent God of the pantheist who is manifest in all things. Rather, Rilke's God is concealed within the creation, within the poems even. The point of the poems, says Ben Hutchinson in an Introduction to Ranson's translations, is to create a "lattice-work" of rhymes and rythms through which the poet encourages God to grow. Rilke's God resides in the interstices of things. The poet -- the poem -- is "your pitcher," writes Rilke, addressing God. If the pitcher shatters that which might quench the thirst is dispersed. A curious God, this God of Rilke. I'm not sure if there is a name for his sort of religion. In a sense, it is an egotistical theology, making God's existence dependent upon the poet's apprehension. But it is also an enobling sort of theology, emphasizing our responsibility to nurture divinity -- to divinize the world. Anyway, the little poem above strkes me as an appropriate Easter meditation for a religious naturalist. On this equinoctial occasion, we praise the things -- call them divine if you wish -- "that rise in roots, narrow into the stem, and in the crown like resurrection stand."

Thanks to Science Musings Blog

When God is Gone, Everything is Holy, by Chet Raymo

2009-04-09T20:09:00.002-06:00

Journeying god,
pitch your tent with mine
so that I may not become deterred
by hardship, strangeness, doubt.
Show me the movement I must make
toward a wealth not dependent on possessions,
toward a wisdom not based on books,
toward a strength not bolstered by might,
toward a god not confined to heaven.
Help me to find myself as I walk in other's shoes.

(Prayer song from Ghana, traditional, translator unknown)
Thanks to Joe Riley

(Prayer song from Ghana, traditional, translator unknown)

Two Diamonds

2009-04-07T00:07:00.007-06:00

There are many reports of what are popularly considered "death-experiences", which are mistaken as evidence of what happens after death. These are in fact only hallucinations experienced by the ego arising from stimulation of certain centers of the brain before, not after, the completion of the death process. Most of the mystical phenomena recorded as yogic experience are of the same order, movements in consciousness experienced by the ego. But when man finally surrenders his miserable egoic individuality, there is no experience of anything. He is the Totality itself.

It is wanting that is the cause of bondage, irrespective of whether that wanting is for some material benefit or for realization. Man's viewpoint has become so inverted that he thinks of effortless, unfathomable contentment as an abnormal condition that must be attained through want by some special positive "spiritual" efforts!
Ramesh S. Balsekar

Ah, The Beauty . . . . . . .

2009-04-06T23:31:00.003-06:00

"Discover all you are not. Body, feelings, thoughts, ideas, time, space, being and not-being, this or that - nothing concrete or abstract you can point out to is you. A mere verbal statement will not do - you may repeat a formula endlessly without any result whatsoever. You must watch yourself continuously - particularly your mind - moment by moment, missing nothing. This witnessing is essential for the separation of the self from the not-self."
~Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

1st and Amistad

2009-04-02T23:44:00.001-06:00

the frey

2009-04-02T21:41:00.004-06:00

"We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, and living by complicated artifice, man in civilization surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees thereby a feather magnified and the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendour and travail of the earth." ~Henry Beston, The Outermost House

2009-04-02T19:51:00.001-06:00

"When I'm sitting in a room making a record, I'm pretty much the master of my own universe. Then I step out the door: Forget it. If you sat like the Unabomber and just wrote a manifesto, it would be this completely self-contained psychotic document. But if you go to the store or a bar or to a friend's house, things are going to happen that are going to shift your life and take it off the line you thought you were on. That's the beauty of the ride. That's what we're here for -- to learn to roll with that ride," - Bob Mould.

The Readjustment

2009-03-29T13:56:00.002-06:00

Awakening is a readjustment. The state is always present, it is our normal, permanent, real nature - as the Masters of all the doctrines never tire of telling us - but the conscious experience of it is denied us by a deviation of subjectivity on to a concept that, as such, is unreal, an object in consciousness appearing as its own subject. Until this phantom is exorcised by being exposed, subjectivity appears to be bound, and we cannot experience it as it is in reality. When this anomalous situation is understood, we need to start putting this understanding into practice, that is not just thinking about it, but experiencing it. There have been people, apparently born 'ready', for whom the fact of understanding has been sufficient in itself to produce the experience, but for the rest of us habit and practice are a necessary prelude to conscious experience of our reality. However it is important to understand that there is nothing to acquire, but only an error to be exposed, because acquiring necessarily involves using, and so strengthening that spurious 'I' whose dissolution we require. For this merely a readjustment is needed, such readjustment being the abandonment of identification with an nonexistent individual self, an abandonment which leaves us unblindfolded and awake in our eternal nature. To seek to persuade ourselves that we do not exist as individual entities is, however, to ask an eye to believe that what it is looking at is not there. But it is not we alone who have no existence as entities: there are not any anywhere in the reality of the cosmos, never have been, and never could be. Only whole-mind can reveal this knowledge as direct cognition which, once realised, is obvious. That is the total readjustment. And only 'I' remains. - Wei Wu Wei from Ask the Awakened: The Negative Way

Forgiveness is a Rebellion Against the Ego's Self-importance.

2009-03-18T10:27:00.003-06:00

The path of forgiveness
is the path of freedom.
Ivan M. Granger

Saint Patricks 17 Mar 2009

2009-03-17T14:11:00.005-06:00

The Lake of Innisfree

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.

W. B. Yeats

Resting in the Paradox of Opposites

2009-03-17T11:50:00.005-06:00

From one of the best Buddhist blogs on the innerwebs.
Here . . . MonkMojo's 1000 Cuts.

2009-03-15T21:35:00.002-06:00

"To know itself the self must be faced with its opposite - the not-self. Desire leads to experience. Experience leads to discrimination, detachment, self-knowledge - liberation. And what is liberation after all? To know that you are beyond birth and death. By forgetting who you are and imagining yourself a mortal creature, you created so much trouble for yourself that you have to wake up, like from a bad dream. "
~Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj

The Freaks at Spurgin Road Field

2009-03-15T20:19:00.005-06:00

The dim boy claps because the others clap.
The polite word, handicapped, is muttered in the stands.
Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back.

One whole day I sit, contrite, dirt, L.A.
Union Station, '46, sweating through last night.
The dim boy claps because the others clap.

Score, 5 to 3. Pitcher fading badly in the heat.
Isn't it wrong to be or not be spastic?
Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back.

I'm laughing at a neighbor girl beaten to scream
by a savage father and I'm ashamed to look.
The dim boy claps because the others clap.

The score is always close, the rally always short.
I've left more wreckage than a quake.
Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back.

The afflicted never cheer in unison.
Isn't it wrong, the way the mind moves back
to stammering pastures where the picnic should have worked.
The dim boy claps because the others clap.
~Richard Hugo