Never Too Late
"When you have exhausted all possibilities, remember this — you haven't." – Thomas A. EdisonArchive for August, 2008
TFTDs
)-Shunryu Suzuki, “Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind”
Oh the humanity
There is no place in the world like New York to watch the pageant of humanity. Especially in Union Square Park on a summer Sunday afternoon.
Helpless
Over my head
The stars appear
As bright as ever
A thousand miles away
Another line of stars appear
Though not in joy
But in despair and sadness
Long lines of people
Fleeing an area
Once raked by a storm
And about to be raked again
Wondering if home
The place they love
The place they long for
Can ever be the same again
They look over their shoulders
And ask themselves
If they will ever return
Helpless to know that answer
Scared of the future
But knowing
They have to leave
SOTD
Because it’s raining, “Here Comes the Rain Again” by Annie Lennox.
(and for Louisiana, because it’s coming, again)
Lost and found
I hadn’t realized, until now, that it hasn’t rained much this month. August here has been unusual–rather cool and very un-summer-like.
And now, it’s raining. The smell and the sound are very soothing. A calming way to slide into the weekend…
Man, oh man
I read this story yesterday in the Washington Post, and it pissed me off. It’s about a guy who wrote a book about how to treat women, which to my mind, means treating them like crap. He says he’s been in a relationship for two years, but apparently dated someone (and can’t “remember” when) and dumped her on date; he’s never been in love; and the last paragraph of the story is a doozy:
And so it is that in this messed-up world where relationships between men and women are plagued by misunderstandings, we are all to take lessons from a man who says his best decision as a teenager was to stop treating women well.
(I think, the dumbest decision he’s made.)
I’m not perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but this is nuts. And what makes it worse is that he’s black. He’s playing to all the worst stereotypes of black men and relationships.
People are people, complicated souls. But people, men and women, are fully-formed, fully-vested beings. Not cardboard stereotypes. I, for one, refuse to play to type.
He wants to run life as a sprint–let him. When he’s old, he’ll be winded. I hope I still have some wind in my sails.
Keepers
You luxuriate in passion
It fuels your being
Powers your soul
You are scared
Of stillness
Of patience
Because you fear
It may steal away
Your passion
Let it go
Let go of your passion
Let it fly like a bird
In the clear blue sky
And you may find
Your passion remains
Deep inside you
In dreams
I dreamt of a grocery store, a restaurant and driving to Charlottsville.
Don’t aks me–I don’t know, either.
Last night’s take
I dreamt of home: hometown, and Brussels. Don’t ask for details, though.
But I can’t understand what the bridge was doing there.
SOTD
“I love you goodbye” by Thomas Dolby.
It sounds a lot like Louisiana, which is under the gun again from a potential hurricane. Can one place have any worse luck? Now, and any time, is a good time to remember this line…
‘there is a spirit here that would be broken’
Dreaming again
Or, at least, remembering the dream about losing my hat. And the one about being stuck in the country after a speeding ticket.
Strange.
Revver
My heart
And my soul
Are my engines
They are finely-tuned
Precision machines
They power my being
They give power to those
Whose power is lacking
They are sensitive pieces
Sometimes given to hurt
And despair
I care immensely
For their operation
I feed, nourish their parts
I run them with love
For one day I know
I will need
Every ounce of power
They can give me
SOTD*
*Song of the day
If I can remember, I’ll post the video for a different song that sticks in my head all day. This one has been in my head for days, actually. “Under the Milky Way,” by The Church.
(Yes, I’m a child of the 80s.)
A good story
| A Motivational Story with Wisdom - Two Wolves Cherokee Wisdom . One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, “My son, the battle is between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.” The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: “Which wolf wins?” The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed.” |
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I see stars
The booming music
The cacophony of voices
In the revelry of the night
Make the darkness joyous
But further away
Sights and sounds
Greater than man
Display their greatness
Nearby the power of the surf
Cleanses the soul
Leaving me in stillness
As its infinite power
Ceases to fade
Overhead a sight unseen
In many years
A hand brushing
A galaxy of stars
From one horizon
To the next
As the yellow moon
Makes its entrance
Down the shore
I return to the cacophony
Properly sated
Not from the voices of man
But from the voices of nature
Ingredients
The pot has been stirred a little bit. I want to wait until it stills before I commit this to poetry.
Sea, surf, fire, moon, stars, the Milky Way. What stars that really matter.
Breathe
It appears that my commenter has returned, judging from this morning’s TFTD post.
To my commenter:
You seem very intelligent, with a good heart and a good soul. But, you appear to be selling yourself very short. You are not giving yourself the opportunity.
Give it to yourself.
Here’s a thought. I think you are looking and seeking for big stretches of time to be silent, still, empty. For five seconds, just close your eyes and breath. For five seconds in your life, the only thing that matters is the sound of your breath.
Try it.
TFTD
Once you realize universal emptiness, all objects are spontaneously penetrated: integrating the world and beyond, it contains all states of being within. If you lose the essence, there is nothing after all; if you attain the function, there is spiritual effect. The genuine path of unminding is not a religion for the immature.
-Fen-yang
Compositions
What stands before you
Are many colors
Like a rainbow
Arcing in the sky
What stands before you
Are many textures
Like a tree
Reaching for the sky
What stands before you
Are many patterns
Like the leaves
Growing on the tree
Instead of asking
For less texture
Fewer colors
Easier patterns
Ask that they all grow
Om mani padme hum
Blanket
Under warm covers
I can feel the arms
Of silence around me
in the still of the dawn
She caresses my soul
And massages my heart
Her sensuous touch
Brings me to reverie
Guide star
It never fails
I look up
Into the night sky
And there it sits
A collection of stars
Ready to pour
Its wisdom
Its knowledge
Its soul
Into the waiting vessel
That is me
TFTD
Been awhile…
Being limitless, it flows away forever; flowing away forever, it returns to my self.
–Lao-tzu
It returns, therefore it never truly goes away.
The dome
Overhead sparkles
A canopy of stars
Pulsing with light
Coursing with energy
Down below I stand
Humbly underneath
Scanning the heavens
For possibilities
Knowing what is there
Is in my heart
Two of a kind
I feel empty
I feel full
I don’t try
To feel anything
Only feeling
What is inside
In stillness
I feel full of life
Full of what is possible
In stillness
I feel empty
My vessel
Waiting to receive
Poetry and prose
I haven’t been writing much prose lately, because I can’t. I only seem to think in poetry these days.
Cloaks
A cape
A hat
A mask
A word
Cloaking agents
To hide what
The heart fears
What the heart knows
Outlier
There’s always one
One fish unwilling
To swim with the school
He sees currents
Others don’t see
Or refuse to
He finds the currents
To liking
They fit his flow
And his rhythm
His act of seeming defiance
Scares and frightens
The other fish
They feel safer
Inside the pack
Or, is it that
They are scared
To find a different current?
The rules
I’m not a rule-breaker, generally. I don’t go around telling authority to kiss off, generally. If I’ve broken a rule, it’s this one: knowing what my heart and my soul say to me. Men are generally assumed not to know, or care. I know what I want, innately, deeply, and that is the love of a woman. I’m going to pay attention to what I hear inside me. To close off that part of myself is to close off me.
Because I listen to myself doesn’t make me less of a man. Daresay, it makes me more of a man.
The point
The whole point of this exercise, of my life, is to be, and to grow. To be a blade of grass, to be a tree. Growth, evolution.
Namaste
TFTD
The clear bead at the center changes everything.
There are no edges to my loving now.
I’ve heard it said there’s a window that opens from one mind to another, but
if there’s no wall, there’s no need for fitting the window, or the latch.–Mevlani Rumi
Every blade of grass has an angel that bends over it and whispers, “Grow! Grow!”
-The Talmud
Transitions
From the snap of crickets
To the patter of rain
To the silence of the dark
To the stir of the morning.
In the dark
The sun fades
Into the horizon
And the stars
Begin their dance
As the light dims
You are scared
My friend
Of what
I cannot understand
Are there things
In the dark
You’d rather not see
Or voices in the blackness
You’d rather not hear
Let the pictures
Form in the darkness
Let the voices
Stir in the darkness
What you see
What you hear
Are inside you
You shouldn’t be afraid
Of yourself
I haven’t forgotten
About heart, soul, spirit, gratitude. They are still in me. And I still want to give them to someone.
Same old same old
Let’s reiterate this.
More of me, not less of me.
I know the image of painting myself into a corner is out there. Constricting myself. Simply, no. I follow the example of trees, or, the hair on my head after I shave it–keep growing.
Namaste
Walking still
The calendar says one thing
The weather says something else
Time for a walk
To enjoy the warm sun
And to think
And to be still
Amid the call of geese
The scurrying of squirrels
The wind through the trees
Footfalls note the rhythm
Of the dance of the mind
Yet even through the motion
The mind
The heart
The soul
Come to stillness
And everything becomes
As clear as the sky overhead
Where am I?
You say I’m hiding
From you
I say I’m standing
Right in front of you
I haven’t run
Behind a tree
Or dissolved
Into the ether
You ask where I’ve gone
You ask where I’ve hidden
I say I’m right here
In the raindrops
Washing your face
In the mirror
Looking back at you
How can I hide
If you are inside me?
Home again…
The weather here is strange for August. Usually it is roasting hot, sweltering, humid. Now, it’s rainy and 64 degrees. Summer in Brussels can be like this (currently, it’s 59; tomorrow it should be 66–and sunny). Which makes Brussels conducive for searching the soul–at least for me. It’s easy to sit in a cafe, drink coffee or a beer, write, read, talk with a friend, stare out the window at the drops of rains, the people rushing outside.
A place like Brussels is nourishing for the soul.
Down below
When I descend
Into the tunnel
I’m never worried
I drive into it
Sad, melancholy
Tears down my cheeks
When the weight
Bears on me
I have to drive
Into the tunnel
The speed blows
My sadness away
Making the light
At the end
Much more sweet
What’s in a name
I was called a name
A good name, mind you
One that made me smile
But the name
Stayed on the surface
Hardly touching
The essence of me
Opening my heart
And my soul
Baring it, naked
This is the picture
I want you to see
TFTD
In my poetic journey, I’ve let these slide…
(my mystery friend, pay attention to this one)
Men are afraid to forget their minds, fearing to fall through the Void with nothing to stay their fall. They do not know that the Void is not really void, but the realm of the real Dharma.
-Huang Po, “Zen Teaching of Huang Po”
We aren’t what we ought to be. We aren’t what we’re going to be. We aren’t what we want to be. But, thank God, we aren’t what we were.
-Anonymous
If the eye never sleeps, all dreams will naturally cease. If the mind makes no discriminations, the ten thousand things are as they are, of single essence. To understand the mystery of this One essence is to be released from all entanglements. When all things are seen equally the timeless Self-essence is reached. No comparisons or analogies are possible in this causeless, relationless state.
-Seng-Tsan, “Verses On The Faith Mind”
The Way is basically perfect. It doesn’t require perfecting. The Way has no form or sound. It’s subtle and hard to perceive. It’s like when you drink water: you know how hot or cold it is, but you can’t tell others.–Bodhidharma
The middle path is the way to wisdom.–Rumi
I teach you the Uberman. Man is something that shall be overcome. What have you done to overcome him? … The time has come for man to set himself a goal. The time has come to plant the seed to his highest hope.–Friedrich Nietzsche
Each form, each particle, is a Buddha. One form is all Buddhas. All forms, all particles, are all Buddhas. All forms, sounds, scents, feelings, and phenomena are also like this, each filling all fields.
-Pai-chang
Our mind and our delusions are formless and colorless. However, our ignorance believing in true existence is harder than a rocky mountain. Our delusions are harder than steel.
-Lama Zopa Rinpoche, “The Door to Satisfaction”
Your mind must become one, do not try to understand with your ears but with your heart. Indeed, not with your heart but with your soul.–Chuang Tzu
(My mystery friend, you need stillness, but remember…) One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star.–Friedrich Nietzsche
Mindfulness is never boring.
-Bhante Henepola Gunaratana, “Mindfulness in Plain English“
Patterns
So I’m thinking
In poetry
These summer days
It matters less
How I think
But what stirs me
Heart, soul, spirit
Inform me
Inform you
You say you can’t follow
I say you can
Just be still
What is in me
Is in you
Looking for stillness
A cacophony
Breaks the bliss
Of a Sunday morning
I miss the cry
Of the baby
And its natural call
Today I seek peace
Amid the noise
To find again
My Sunday bliss
