As a writer my I is fixated on birthing pithy lines of prose and then killing all my little darlings, watching words emerge as perfect butterflies from ethereal cocoons only to pluck the wings from their temporal bodies in search of deeper meanings.
Notes on a Buddhist path
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Awash
Awash. That word resonates for me in such a profound way, especially in these times of the pandemic.
The Abyss
Come to the edge.We might fall.Come to the edge.It’s too high!COME TO THE EDGE!And they came,and he pushed,and they flew. ~~Christopher Logue It’s been nearly five years now since I left the world. I still recall the look on my friends’ and co-worker’s faces when I told them that I was heading off to […]
Night and Day
There was a moment last year as twilight bloomed across the sky, when I glanced out the windows of our vihara and noticed a marvelous play of light and dark in the nearby aspen grove. The ebony shadows of the forest pressed themselves against the brilliant etched whiteness of the aspens. Night existing next to day. Separate, yet so close.
Something good
It’s funny how a life can change with just one step in a new direction. How the years of contemplating that step one day come to placing our singularly intention on the new ground that has been waiting for us and for this one rare and precious moment to arise.
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