April 24th, 2009 Comments Off
Leif Gunnlögsson, a friend has died. I don’t want to sound trite but I think he’d learnt to abandon the world before it abandoned him. Me, I’m still learning …
I am Learning to Abandon the World
by Linda Pastan
I am learning to abandon the world
before it can abandon me.
Already I have given up the moon
and snow, closing my shades
against the claims of white.
And the world has taken
my father, my friends.
I have given up melodic lines of hills,
moving to a flat, tuneless landscape.
And every night I give my body up
limb by limb, working upwards
across bone, towards the heart.
But morning comes with small
reprieves of coffee and birdsong.
A tree outside the window
which was simply shadow moments ago
takes back its branches twig
by leafy twig.
And as I take my body back
the sun lays its warm muzzle on my lap
as if to make amends.
February 11th, 2008 Comments Off
I asked a friend to send me a photo from his library that I could use for this post. I said, ‘I’m off to India tomorrow, have you got something apt, an image that says travel, something I can use to tell my readers that I’m on the road and may not be posting that much for the next 3 weeks.’
He sent me this hippie shirt — drying on a line. I mean, am I a hippie?
Our permit stuff-up
I’m finally heading to India after a few false starts and some troubles with a permit. The permit, a Protected Area Permit (PAP) is required by the Indian Government in order to stay in the Tibetan Settlement of Bylakuppe, which is in South India, near Mysore.
My wife was going there to teach English and geography for a couple of months and I was staying with her and then travelling up north to do some work with Buddha’s Smile School.
Anyway, we sent all the necessary documents to Delhi more than 4 months ago. They were sent via His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s office in Australia, so we know the Indian Government got them. However, we are still yet to see hide or hair of the permits.
One might say, if one wasn’t being very Zen and cool about it all: ‘What a complete and utter stuff-up, guys!!’
Forget that we offered this as a freebie. Forget the waisted money spent on air tickets and a hotel and the time we spent finding/buying teaching aids, etc. Forget all that because I am being very Zen about it all. Like hell I am. 
January 20th, 2008 Comments Off
This photo was taken on top of a hill (3,800 meters up) outside a small Tibetan town called Ganzi. I often look at it and wonder about how simple it would be to live there and just mediate each day.
Most people say my life is already a dream. That I live in some kind of god realm and if life got much simpler (quieter) than it already is, then I might as well be dead. I suppose, in comparison to most people I don’t do a lot. I work and I travel and I read and I blog, occasionally. But I still find life to be tad hectic (grin) and so I also meditate. I’m not a fanatic and I’m not sure that I’m even that spiritual, but I like to go to a Vipassana meditation centre 2-3 times a year and I try to put my bum on a cushion most mornings for at least 20 minutes.
Do I recommend meditation? The answer is unequivocally yes. For me, there is nothing that helps me live easier, better, happier, than meditation. I like the simplicity of mindfulness (insight) meditation. I like the teachings of S.N. Goenka and also people like Jon Kabat-Zinn. I also like the teachings of Suzuki Roshi and Shinzen Young.
January 16th, 2007 Comments Off
flash fiction by John Holman
His head newly shaven, he walks to the temple with a slow, regal demeanour. Each stride measured, each footfall quiet on the fine gravel path. His hands are soft and warm. His fingers entwined like tender lovers resting in some quiet ritual togetherness.
A misty rain falls. Feather-like droplets touch his ageing face but he is unconcerned with rain. He stops as he sees the temple rooftop appear above the trees — bright terracotta and angular, cutting the grey mist with waves of orange and specks of gold.
He hears the low rhythmic chanting of monks at prayer, a drumbeat and a frog whose call has a sadness that seems to match his own. And in the distance, he hears the faint step of a sandalled monk approach.
March had been cold and April even colder. No snow, just cold wind and a rain that had seeped inside of him, filling his lungs and his heart.
“Welcome home, Master.”
He smiles and bows his head but does not reply, preferring to hold back, to enjoy his silence a moment longer. He waits, listening as the monk’s tread slowly fades.
» Read the rest of this entry «
September 28th, 2006 Comments Off
circle in stone
makes me think hard about life –
it doesn’t last.
maybe not a Haiku by John Holman
September 23rd, 2006 Comments Off
cool breeze–
from Buddha’s direction
blowing a blessing
Haiku by Kobayashi Issa | Link
April 4th, 2006 Comments Off
This poem says to me that the only time we have is now. What has gone, has gone and the future is nothing more than a thought, an idea. Nothing is real except for this moment — this now.
Barry Long (1926 – December 6, 2003) was an Australian spiritual teacher and writer.
Hope you enjoy…
Now
by Barry Long
In the beginning is the word
Now
The word is made flesh
Now
You are born
Now
You are
Now
You die
Now
Yesterday was not or it would be
Now
See this and you are immortal
Now.
