Most of my adult life, I've read and absorbed a lot of Buddhist philosophy. From DT Suzuki through conventional stuff and then the old masters like Dogen, Basho, Sheng-yen, Ryoken up to modern poets like Synder, Rexroth even at times Ginsberg. Been reading more of this stuff lately and sat down and wrote this raw poem yesterday. From my time on top of a mountain in Nicaragua. Compliments this recent post.
Buddhist Lament
washing old jam jars
listening to children play outside
peeling potatoes, licking my fingers
lying in the mountain stream
letting the water move over me,
pulling bananas from the stalk
remembering what I didn't remember
petting my dog and thinking
of the one that went away as
the earth feeds me
from her empty bowl.
I'll end with a quote of Alan Watts.
"If you do not get it from yourself. Where will you go for it?"
To end, a poem about the life that surrounds and embraces us.
Just Being Here
Every morning they look at me
INTENSELY
while I drink my coffee and
dip my biscotti.
I’m still half in the bag and
before my programming kicks in
I always wonder
what is going on in their tiny heads
these cats, 12 stories up
in our box in the sky
beautiful view of
the mountain and ocean
facing them.
Do you think how lucky they are?
Fresh chunky tuna in the morning,
belly scratches and toys?
Or are they wondering why
I stupidly sit there each morning
drinking some bad smelling liquid
and scratching my privates while
the dog nudges me for a walk?
What’s going on inisde their little cat heads?
Do they know Rome’s fallen?
Or anything about the cost of cat food in China?
Have they any idea that there is a 90% chance of rain?
Or that it’s winter and Xmas is around the corner?
I don’t think so. But
honestly I don’t know.
I’m fine, leaving it at that.
But this thought, this mind process
only tells us how
much
of what we value,
of what we know,
is unimportant
irrelvant, cultural effluent
mere vanity, mostly filler.
Feeling is under-rated.
I reach down and pull one onto my lap
pulling up the soft linen throw they love
up over us and suddenly our togetherness,
their purring, my slumber
erases the idea of “better”
and we repose in the calmness
of just being here.
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