Monthly Archives: June 2014

Hope (A Zen Perspective)

Mindfulness is being present in the given moment. Parker Palmer speaks about fidelity and faith as being linked together. The faith we have is not that we follow a predetermined, linear path where hope lives. Rather it is a speculative hope and faith born from deep faith that each moment is transient and what exists in each moment comes and go.

Richard Schiffman proposed hope is not an appetite for this or that concocted future. With faith in ourselves, others, and things beyond explanation, fidelity to phenomena never fully explainable and indescribable, the present unlearns the past and the present moves comfortably into an agnostic future.

When we take time, pause and breath, we enter each moment able to let go of fictitious pasts and fantastic futures, living in this particular moment, no this one.

Hope is not about some future meadow.
Hope is not a triumphal march toward some brighter,
bloodless field. Neither is it lighting a candle
or cursing the darkness or calling the glass half full.
It is this half-empty tumbler turning cartwheels
above the chasm. You, for example—
poised above your own private precipice,
bruised and bloodied, sifting through the ashes
of ten thousand burnt offerings.
Don’t scatter those ashes; don’t stuff the corpses
into body bags just yet. Don’t launch a fleet
of skyrockets to cheer up Gehenna. Don’t pretend
that you’re still hungry, like those battle-blind birds
pecking for seeds between the corpses.
Hope is not an appetite for this or that concocted future.
It is the present seeking itself, the present—
unlearning the past, agnostic of the future—
breathing, in its chains, like the sea.

Nowhere In Particular

The post had me with the Mary Oliver question introducing it. What do we do with that one wild life we are given? We can build castles in the sky with it and find memorable destinations throughout.

maskednative.com's avatarMasked Native

‘Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?’
– from the poem ‘The Summer Day’ by Mary Oliver –

~ ~ ~

Castle In The Sky

The business of bees, dizzy with industry, intoxicate me in the clover patch.

Tiny, delicate trim of blue lace flowers sing of youth and beauty

to thin, feathery spikes of uncut summer grass.

Going nowhere in particular,

I am grateful to have discovered the heart of an old rose,

just before her petals fell, her one wild and precious life spent.

Going nowhere in particular,

when clouds darken my sky,and storms threaten,

I am given

the wisdom of men who write careful words with such generosity,

no applause expected.

I build castles in the sky,

for this one wild and precious life,

and everywhere I look, I find a destination to remember.

Oil painting ‘Castle In The Sky” © 2014 Teri…

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Today’s Quote

When we take time and pause, those things that are seeking us find us. We become present in each moment we live.

Ode to Enchanted Light

Pablo Neruda‘s final stanza is about the wonders the world sings out to us. We are in the universe and related to all phenomena. When light drops through the latticework of branches and when the cicada sings the light falls on us and the song includes us.

In the busy world we inhabit, it is difficult to elevate the ordinary to the extraordinary. When we pause and take a breath, the world senses us. We are in the extraordinary, overflowing glass. The world enchants us and we enchant it. We sing a rhapsody that is the world as the etymology of enchant suggests. Our lives become incantations and the response is the world’s incantation we can each hear in those momentary, mindful pauses.

Under the trees light
has dropped from the top of the sky,
light
like a green
latticework of branches,
shining
on every leaf,
drifting down like clean
white sand.

A cicada sends
its sawing song
high into the empty air.

The world is
a glass overflowing
with water.

The peace of wild things

This is one of my favourite Wendell Berry poems and I have posted it previously. Nature is a wonderful place where we can just be in its grace. It just is and reveals itself to us when we open our hearts along with all our senses.

drbillwooten's avatarDr Bill Wooten

“When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For the time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.”

~ Wendell Berry

Wood drake

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Earth Laughs In Flowers

Originally posted on Ese' s Voice:
Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light. Theodore Roethke The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers. Matsuo Basho Just living is not enough… one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower. Hans Christian Andersen Reflection is a flower…

Wind, Water, Stone

We continuously act on the world and it acts on us. There is a constant interacting shaping us and the world. Sabbath represents a space when we take time, a few moments, an entire day, and try meet the world more fully. We step beyond the busyness and entering a welcoming spaciousness that holds us.

Octavio Paz provided a beautiful metaphor that brings the continuous interacting to life. Humans, similar to water, wind, stone, hollow spaces, disperse their gifts, and provide shelter for each other. We act in ways offering uplifting opportunities to others . As we step into Sabbath’s spaciousness, we encounter the sculptures, the holding spaces, and the transforming that is always happening around us and in us. We take time and sing, whisper, and find stillness in those spaces.

The water hollowed the stone,
the wind dispersed the water,
the stone stopped the wind.
Water and wind and stone.

The wind sculpted the stone,
the stone is a cup of water,
The water runs off and is wind.
Stone and wind and water.

The wind sings in its turnings,
the water murmurs as it goes,
the motionless stone is quiet.
Wind and water and stone.

One is the other and is neither:
among their empty names
they pass and disappear,
water and stone and wind.

A Tree

Today, is Maya Angelou’s memorial and this seemed like an appropriate good morning poem.

Being Open To The Seeds Of Life

Thomas Merton was a prolific writer in the mid-20th Century. In many ways, his writing was ahead of his times questioning the burgeoning consumerism and an increased need for spirituality. Here he speaks of the need for readiness when we receive the seeds we plant each day. Mindfulness is important as we examine what life brings us in each moment.

Praise Your Life

Andrea Potos wrote this poem which I suspect has many different meanings. It will read differently tomorrow and the next day. Something new will appear as it finds space in my life.

When I found this poem, the opening lines resonated. It rained hard last night and is a cool day today. I don’t drink coffee, but my tea was the best this side of an oriental tea shop.

The poem impressed upon me the way life unfolds, much like a good book being read and re-read. We take time and find spaces where we can just be and enjoy what that book, that life means. We are called to this particular life, but it is not a given. We live it and interact with the world and its inhabitants in various ways. As a result, we change and the world changes in this living. Each time we read this book, it takes on a newer meaning, but reminds us of the past which is not simply discarded.

When on a June morning heavy with rain,
you can taste the best cappuccino
this side of Rome, in a cafe
with scarred maplewood tables,
a book of Caravaggio splayed open:
The Calling of St. Matthew
that could be set in a tavern,
a gambling den, a dank office where
tax collectors are counting their day’s work,
while in the top right of the frame, a gold-
seared light slices in, and with it,
the figure of a god made man—
a bolt of radiance shoots through
his finger, pointed as if to say: You,
it is you, I have called to this life.