meditation, zazen, zen, Zen Poetry

States of Meditation

bodhidharma

some days I’m swimming upstream
some days I’m going with the flow
some days I’m floating on a tranquil pond
other days the mind wanders away
like a kite untethered from the kid
who thought he was in control
and then suddenly the crow: “CAAAAW!  CAAAAAW!”
like the THWACK!  THWACK!
of the keisaku, or “wakeup stick”
purpose regained.
this moronic ox
eyes open
on this cushion

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poetry, zen, Zen Poetry

Apprehending Beauty

Trailing Arbutus

March 31

Walking the power line cut
through dormant scrub oak and sweet fern
the shaly terrain full of briars and ticks
and there you are:
Trailing Arbutus, ephemeral harbinger of the season
Your prostrate form, tiny white flowers, and simple evergreen leaves
adorning this bleak scene.
Am I the only person who will see you?
Appreciate your brave arrival in this not-yet-Spring-time?
 
And beauty?……
Is it a thing out There?
Mere perception?
Do other creatures feel some difference in the wind or humidity?
Do they revel in the minute changes on the mountain?
Perhaps for them beauty is just
flitting, crawling, eating, mating
Being

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Zen Poetry

Meditation to Find Yourself

pics from pc718

If you’re looking for transformation

go to a gym or a hair stylist or a “life coach”

because the zafu cushion is a circle of deception.

You may experience flashes,

moments that stretch out and out and out….

into a taste of timelessness without reference-

a fleeting feeling of dissolution that gels

into this temporarily aware tendril

trying to hold onto that evanescent ether.

Then the aching knees or hips or heart

reassemble into

just you.

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