Crossing Nebraska

Not knowing can be one of the most difficult things we humans ever experience. Whether we’re awaiting the results of a serious medical test, a college acceptance letter, or news of a possible layoff at our place of employment, we’ve likely all experienced some potentially life-changing form of it. And what could be worse than a loved one going missing during a natural disaster or because of possible foul play? Not knowing can be utterly traumatic. Much more innocuous forms of not knowing can be pretty uncomfortable as well. We’ve all been in situations at work, school, or out in the community where we’re expected to have something approximating “expert level” knowledge about whatever it is we happen to be working on. How do you feel when asked a good, pertinent, and perhaps even obvious question to which you do not know the answer? Personally, my gut tightens up just a little bit. I start feeling like a schoolboy once again, sitting uncomfortably as the teacher looks past all the rai...

Bear Butte rises from the prairie north and east of the Black Hills like an island rising out of the ocean. Even at 1,400 feet tall, however, most modern Black Hills visitors will miss it – lying, as it does, away from the “destination ” arteries. Native Americans didn’t miss it, though. For the Cheyenne and Sioux migrating out of the Northeast and the Great Lakes region, respectively, Bear Butte would have been their first glimpse of what the Black Hills had in store. Likewise the Mandan, in the course of their navigation of the Missouri River watershed, would have happened upon Bear Butte due to its close proximity to the Belle Fourche River (Odell, 1942). Bear Butte has long been considered a spiritual place. The Sutaio, an early immigrant tribe related to the Cheyenne, are storied to have received their sacred Buffalo cap from the spirits dwelling inside a cave therein. The Sun Dance, as well, is thought by some to have originated there (Odell, 1942). Story and conjectur...

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 ...

Poetry and Zen, Part 1 left off with Ryokan sitting in a place beyond the words of even a master of poetry like himself; and yet he took the time to craft a poem that might allow us to share that view – however imperfect or incomplete words might be with respect to describing it. Why? Why did he bother? Why didn’t he simply spend the rest of his days advancing toward that buddha realm and enjoying the suchness of his mountain heaven? The Buddha himself, so the story goes, faced a similar quandary after realizing his enlightenment some 2,500 years ago. Should he simply remain where he was in that place of ultimate realization? Who was prepared to hear his teaching, after all? Who was capable of understanding it? Anyone? Central to Mahayana Buddhism is the bodhisattva vow – the vow to forego one’s own salvation until every other being is saved. Thus, a Zen poet like Ryokan might be motivated to make the most of his skill with words and his grasp of ultimate truth in order to be of ...

It seems that I’ve gotten a little off track of late with respect to my posting frequency. My apologies and kind regards to anyone who might have been wondering where I’ve been. Actually, I was under the weather all last week – with barely enough energy to drag myself off of the couch, let alone sit up writing at a computer. I knew I’d be writing about poetry and Zen, though, so I was at least able to pull a dozen or so books down from my bookshelves to sift through as I lay about in recovery. I even managed to scribble out a few pages of notes related to inspiration (which I didn’t actually have), and the unconscious mind (which I had in abundance), and poetry as a spiritual practice, and how it is that words have anything at all to do with the largely wordless practice of Zen. I was even intending to include a few poems of my own – they are Zen poems, after all. Up until a couple of days ago, though, I had no idea how I was going to tie it all together. So what happened since th...

This was one of the first blog posts I ever wrote, and I think it holds up well. The fact that it also fits nicely into my new “blog within a blog” series ( Power, Practice, and Peace ) prompted me to update and highlight it. Certainly, there is much more to say regarding how to build a peaceful world for all living beings, but I think the information contained herein will go a long   way toward fulfilling that aspiration. I hope you enjoy it! What would it take for you to really be at peace? Would it take a change of jobs—with a little less stress and a little more money? Does your retirement account need to reach some certain level? Do you need to find that perfect life companion—someone who’ll make even the most mundane aspects of daily living seem just a little bit brighter? Hey, maybe all you need is for the little one to start sleeping soundly through the night! Yes, there always seems to be something standing between us and contentment. There always seem to be some conditi...