Alterity is the way. Even now I’m becoming someone new. Best to embrace it, I’d say.
Things are always in the process of becoming other than what they are, that’s the drift. Everything’s in transit, the bags are already packed.
The question is, can we let it be that way?
Originally posted on Morning Sky Zen:
Please welcome our new Novice Priest, rev. ShenJing (John Pendall) ShenJing (John Pendall) ? The Morning Sky Zen Sangha is pleased to announced the novice ordination of Shenjing, Profound Mirror He has received Novice Chan Priest Ordination in the the Linji/Yunmen Zen Lineage of the Dharma Winds Zen Tradition and…
The air is steak, or at least that’s how it smells.His chair creaks, and beer’s bitter refuge washes work away.Another Monday at the table,Another moment of bliss. Charred flesh and cigarettes, and Valium softened sounds.Her eyes fall on his greasy chin, and her mind travels.How did we get her? Is this how it’s supposed to […]
I posted this on FB and figured I’d toss it here too. 1. Call up a feeling, an image, and an idea you’d like to communicate. 2. Pick a poetic style or meter to work with, or go with free verse (My favorite). 3. Pick words that seem to flow together, introducing a turning word […]
Yeah, I know… not the catchiest of titles. But, this is an exhausting post, so I figured I’d just lay it all out there. I’m gonna start with the conclusion by saying that you can just skip all of this if you 1) Wish all beings well, and help out however you can, 2) Don’t […]
I translated this snippet from the Records of the Transmission of the Lamp: Farong was from Yanling in Jiangsu Province, and his family name was Wei. At nineteen, he was already conversant in the Confucian Classics and Histories. He studied the Mahaprajnaparamita Sutra and grokked True Emptiness. One day, sighing, he suddenly exclaimed, “The Confucian […]
Hsin Hsin Ming Part 8 with Commentary (Last Verses)
It’s the, “No biggie,” mind. The, “Come what may,” mind. The, “It don’t mind,” mind. And it encompasses everything without being hindered by anything.
Here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago to my Zen teacher: Scrubbing the toilet A persistent shit stain Impatience, frustration, Dissatisfaction Then, what’s called I Was poured into the scrubbing The self flowed down The arms, through hand Through the fingers Into the motion Where it found rest In groundlessness What is mind? […]