prologue
hedges
green blushed with spring
six months of warm weather
hopefully new seeds are planted
old friends
i
change assures that
nothing changes
elements remain
if not the same
clearly identifiable
amid the new strands
there we were bumping along
when suddenly this happens
we became different
yet remained the same
ii
trying hard to see the acorn in the oak
the rain drop in the ocean
the cloud in the river
and they are easy
I construct the horizon
set the limits
at times they are so very small
I’m tempted to feel ashamed
but realise in time that breathing
saves me like nothing else
iii
it seems there is reality
and ultimate reality
like infinity which
isn’t just a big number
ultimate reality isn’t just another
paradigm
because you smash one idol
in favour of another
doesn’t make the new one
any less of an idol
iv
life’s searching
it seems
will yield up no answers
only more questions
because there is no end of questions
until the hard wiring itself breaks down
or
stopping the process
counting the breath
becoming the 'noble detached observer'*,
v
I come to see myself
as the horizon
running towards it
does not bring it any closer
only by stopping
will it come to me
like god or a butterfly
or some other illusion
which I can watch arise
and fall away
epilogue
thankfully words fail
eventually I collapse exhausted
and am able to see
the beauty of the clouds
scurry across the sky
hear the dawn chorus
smell the new spring season
taste the food which breaks my fast
get on with living
while still alive.
*Giacobbe, G. C. (2009) How to Become a Buddha in 5 Weeks: The Simple Way to Self-realisation. London: Arcturus Publishing. (p95)
"Dio - God. Phase - a distinct period... forming part of something's development." (Wikipedia)
Thursday 30 March 2017
Thursday 16 March 2017
Shoreline
grey day
sunshine hiding
seemingly anytime
yesterday today tomorrow
matters
mind pulls this way and that
never thought to ask in whose interests
false delusion of ego mind
gets too big for its boots
ultimate reality clouds over
right mindfulness polishes the mirror
seeing nothing
going nowhere
emptiness
constant vigilance needed
so not to miss the miracle of the moment
sunshine hiding
seemingly anytime
yesterday today tomorrow
matters
mind pulls this way and that
never thought to ask in whose interests
false delusion of ego mind
gets too big for its boots
ultimate reality clouds over
right mindfulness polishes the mirror
seeing nothing
going nowhere
emptiness
constant vigilance needed
so not to miss the miracle of the moment
Tuesday 14 March 2017
Spring
Cinquain
sunshine
breathing new life
energy is rising
winter blues are almost over
growing
50 Words
warm days begin opening buds
springtime gently strolls up the lane
blessing all in her path
generous lady
green mantled
fresh as a daisy
welcome back from the wintry depths
teach me how to savour moments
without rushing into some imagined future
help me learn the precious jewel of now.
It’s true though, all I want to be is somewhere else, when now is all there can be. Slowing down and observing activity in a non-judgemental way is the only way to live. Every moment examined without thought or correction or ethics. Emotion kills the present moment by making judgements over past deeds or imagined futures in which there are rights and wrongs when in fact there is only now. Watching the manifestation of necessary conditions. Watching them arise and fall without attachment or aversion. Bubbles in the ocean of mind which can lead to confusion about self-identification and wrong perceptions of my being.
sunshine
breathing new life
energy is rising
winter blues are almost over
growing
50 Words
warm days begin opening buds
springtime gently strolls up the lane
blessing all in her path
generous lady
green mantled
fresh as a daisy
welcome back from the wintry depths
teach me how to savour moments
without rushing into some imagined future
help me learn the precious jewel of now.
It’s true though, all I want to be is somewhere else, when now is all there can be. Slowing down and observing activity in a non-judgemental way is the only way to live. Every moment examined without thought or correction or ethics. Emotion kills the present moment by making judgements over past deeds or imagined futures in which there are rights and wrongs when in fact there is only now. Watching the manifestation of necessary conditions. Watching them arise and fall without attachment or aversion. Bubbles in the ocean of mind which can lead to confusion about self-identification and wrong perceptions of my being.
Monday 13 March 2017
A Book In Time Saves Nine
Started work on the “Classification” book, I just thought, as a sideline, a few pages a day would make a book in time.
A book in time saves nine.
Classification |
Cinquain
morning
sun singing out
warming and siren like
inviting me to come and see
outside
50 Word Story
there are fields
which hold pots of fairy gold
waiting to be found
by those prepared to swap wanderings
for journey
as intentions firm
options grow fewer
no longer having a hold
before the setting of the sun
unremembered promises must be kept
their meanings becoming clearer daily
deep inside
300 Words
Another seam perhaps? Without application and discipline all the maps, tools and gold in the money bag, discovery and exploration become impossible. Taking up the burden daily is the only way forward, laying down the burden daily, same thing, no one really knows the way of it.
Said, join in the dance
said, form a ring
said, stoke it higher
said, see how they smile
said, joy is the game
said, all ends in love.
The old ones are always present
engaged in the daily run
making us laugh and cry in equal amounts
as did they in their own ways
on this good earth
So we make guesses
call them truths
building ever higher towers
tottering over our insecurities
as if that weren’t enough
teetering on the brink of something
almost unable to bear the tension
building walls to keep out the space
between us suffocating
in stifling air
Who will free us from all this
who will lead us out
into the safety of the wilderness
no one answers
very well then
this is how it will be
until the tower falls and
honest ignorance is allowed a say
we will ruck and maul around
as if in some game in which
truth's severed head is passed from one to each
back and forth until the setting sun draws our game
to a close
leaving all tainted
blood on our hands
sweating and worn out we collapse
confused
melded into mud.
Seek another way
step out bravely
sit by stream
walk by river
garden
read
listen
Hope is a desolate field
in which we sow our seed
until we find our daily golden bread
and learn to forgive ourselves
over and over again
I know the tune
it’s just the words that I forget
from time to time.
Wednesday 8 March 2017
Tuesday 7 March 2017
Monday 6 March 2017
Monday Mulch.
The Pile |
Quite a weight. |
Two beds done. |