24 October 2010


Open a door into a quiet, changing room.
Sometimes it has no roof, no walls.
Sometimes it is dark and still, dusky light with a comfortable couch.
Still other times it is simply a window with a raindrop trailing down, following almost but not quite the tracks of countless other drops,
And the quiet of the room behind the window.

Who is there, sharing that vast, enclosing, freeing space?
There is a presence, benign.
Malignancy can’t find the door, doesn’t even know to look. But if he did, the way would be indistinguishable in his dark corridor.

But for you, the outline shines with a silver light.
Step inside. Everything is waiting for you.
Lining the walls are the placidly smiling Buddhas, their eyes twinkling with delight and welcome.
But don’t be shy. They’re in their own rooms, after all.
This is the in-between space where everyone and no one is.

One is waiting, ready to let you see through his eyes.
You can feel it, can’t you---
The acceptance, the peace, the air like breathable music?
Veiled though you are, and shrouded in blind mortality,
Here is the space between.
Come, wander and rest,
There's a door on this side, too.

03 October 2010


What is it?
Longing mixed with involuntary music,
Upwelling from the heart of things,
Unfinished, hidden, partially obscured.

Why is there no resolution?
It takes a kind of perseverance
Beyond just the regular flitting from thing to thing.

Dig deep into the recesses.
Find the glittering prize and bring it out into the light.
It's worth showing to the world.
Things shouldn't remain hidden.
That smacks of ingratitude.

It doesn't matter if you can't do it all.
At least do some,
And do it well.
Don't leave one treasure covered in muck
Because you're so anxious to find the next.
These things take time.

And in the end there will be jewels enough,
Sparkling in starlight.