in quiet moments of Buddha time i watch the world like a man who's blind i sing my songs like a drunken sage and offer curses as though free of rage
Quiet Moments of Buddha Time [Poem]
2
I sit on a green grass riverside, watching brown waters flow. Some karst monoliths stand behind in which scrubby shrubs grow. I feel my mind could be swept on down to the sprawling sea, while my body would stay behind asleep with back to tree. And panic and freedom both rise - untethered from earth's hold. As I see the future and the past blended at the threshold. And space, like time, has no meaning -- just an amorphous blob. I awaken gasping spastically, my pulse in a wild throb.
Was it a lifetime ago, or was it a dream? I remember it being a long drive to a cold shore. And I sat alone on that shore, and I sought a shark -- not out in the waters, but within myself. Finding nothing, I felt the thing to do was to rattle in rhythm with the twisted hustle of pounding waves, and I awoke, shivering under piercing points of light that somehow felt cold, & made me feel cold - deep inside.
Transforming Trauma with Jiu-Jitsu: A Guide for Survivors, Therapists, and Jiu-Jitsu Practitioners to Facilitate Embodied Recovery by Jamie MarichOne false footing erases the screeched blackboard writing that'd formed in my mind & everything becomes a blank, white emptiness -- Not a good empty. Not a good quiet. The emptiness of blinding pain. That's the slow, cold death of falling into a drift and then cascading, tumbling, tumbling, in an avalanche. Wrenched asunder - or so it feels - and left to go numb in a silence so total that i know it's my first experience with true silence. We all fall down? That's what the plague rhyme says, isn't it? -- Madmen & Holymen, and those who take this fall and are twisted into a grotesque blend of both. Which way is up? Tiny seedlings can tell, but I cannot. I'm lost -- 50/50, I dig myself deeper into my own doom. My life trickles in a file of hours, dripping into that dim distance of non-time. I'll stay lost until the spring thaw when I'll ride the glacial runoff to complete my tumble as a gray and bloated thing.
Breathe! You Are Alive: Sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing by Thich Nhat HanhThe other day I read that a man had pushed a person onto the tracks in front of an oncoming train. The week before that, I'd read in a book by Robin Ince that a person who -- having had a baby thrust into his hands -- has intrusive thoughts of throwing said baby out of the nearest window is [believe it, or not] the best person to ask to hold one's baby. The argument goes like this, the person having these intrusive thoughts is being intensely reminded by his or her unconscious mind that under no circumstances -- no matter what unexpected or unusual events should transpire -- is he to throw the baby out the window (or otherwise do anything injurious.) I've heard that, at some point, virtually everyone has some type of awkward intrusive thought such as the thought of pushing a stranger in front of a train. Most never do it, nor truly want to do it. Then this one time... someone did.
Bankei Zen: Translations from the Record of Bankei by Yoshito HakedaI awaken from a dream within a dream, and I'm still dreaming -- dreaming that I'm walking with the others, the others that I'm told are all me, walking in some vaguely familiar exotic destination Of course, I don't know I'm dreaming. I did wake up after all, but it turns out that it's dreams all the way down.