Crossing Nebraska

I’m back in the so-called “real world” after a weeklong meditation retreat at Sanshin Zen Temple. And what would sesshin be without at least a poem to show for it! {smile} Clearly this particular one was inspired by my having slept in a tent on the temple grounds all week long – something that made this particular rohatsu sesshin of a decidedly different quality than all of the others that I’ve sat. In addition to the obvious Zen influence, you might also see the influence of a beautiful quote by Catherine of Siena that I stumbled across not too long ago: “Every step of the way to heaven is heaven.” I love this quote for its obvious grasp, albeit from a Christian perspective, of the non-dual nature of reality – something that is without question when considering the Buddhist concept of shunyata , or emptiness . Also present is the influence of the Quaker propensity for speaking of “that of God in everyone.” I hope you enjoy the poem! The Ghost of Lost Attention If ...

Regular readers might recall that my partner is a Christian minister. As such, we often find ourselves discussing whatever Bible passages she might be reflecting on for an upcoming sermon. This past week the lectionary included a reading from the Gospel according to Luke. When she asked me what I thought of it, I immediately saw its abundant potential for initiating Buddhist/Christian dialogue. The passage is Luke 12:32-38. I’ll quote it in its entirety before reflecting upon it further: 32  “Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. 33  Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. 34  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. 35  “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; 36  be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so t...

Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose. What are we to make of such a statement? On one hand we might be inclined to interpret it from a post-modern, image-saturated perspective such as: “if you’ve seen one rose you’ve seen them all.” Ah, but would a poet really endeavor to convey such a jaded sentiment? Quite to the contrary, I think that Gertrude Stein is striving with this line in Sacred Emily to deepen our understanding of the nature of the rose, its essence of being, its roseness . The rose is what it is, fully and completely. It is not like anything. It is not like something red; it is red. It is not like something beautifully scented; it is beautifully scented. It is not like something that is pleasing in form, or delicate, or fleeting; it simply is all of those things. But to say that a rose is all of those things might tend to imply that it is simply a collection of attributes, the totality of which somehow add up to roseness . No, roseness precedes and transcends...

Zen student to teacher: "I come seeking liberation." Zen teacher to student: "Who has enslaved you? Show me your chains!" + I’d departed from Shoshoni that morning with 100 miles of ‘rattlesnake country’ to ride through before arriving in Casper, Wyoming – my evening destination. I pedaled slowly, knowing full well that the afternoon would bring the hottest weather that I’d ridden in all year, and my longest ride in many, many a year. And on top of all of that I was tired. I was tired before I’d even begun, still recovering as I was from the sinus infection that had laid me low back in the Tetons, and the long ride from Cody to Thermopolis and then up through the Wind River Canyon – back in time and smack dab into the center of a raging thunderstorm. (See  Desire, Aspiration, and Doing What We Can .) But none of that was of any consequence anymore, for there was nothing left to do but ride. Now, it might seem as though having nothing left to do would epit...

Poetry doesn’t have to be good to save your life; it just has to be your own. This is a truth that I learned during my turbulent teen years – years during which the only thing keeping me from losing my mind, so to speak, was the fact that I was writing about it! Alright, perhaps I exaggerate just a little bit – we are talking about dreaded adolescence, after all – but it is true that poetry provided meaning for me at a time when I really needed it. You see, I fancied myself something of a rebel poet back then, skipping out of the classes that I didn’t like in order to steal my way down to the darkened high school auditorium – there to sit alone in the yawning silence, plumbing the depths of my being. Sure, I’d started reading about Eastern religions and philosophy by then, but I’d not yet begun to meditate. Poetry was my meditation, and it held me in good stead throughout those turbulent years. I strongly recommend it to anyone grappling with life-changing issues. And it doesn’t even ...