The Buddha, The Dharma, The Sangha

"Spiritual powers and their wondrous functioning--hauling water and carrying firewood." --Layman Pang, upon his realization

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Random Impressions....

Star Colors In Orion, credit & copyright: Jens Hackmann from the NASA website (

Random Impressions On A Day In Which I Feel Sorry For Myself

Coffee grounds in the sink, telling me nothing
cat barf on the dining room rug
there for a moment, then mysteriously gone when I come back with a damp paper towel

the recollection of a question at meditation that I cannot answer
and the lingering scent of sage incense on my sweater

exquisite light of the rising sun on the vines that smother my neighbor's towering hackberry tree
the merlin who perches on a branch to ruffle his scruffy winter feathers, unhurried

the recollection of a zendo visit where a spider as large as my thumb crept to my meditation mat
and how I flicked this spider onto a neighboring mat
and then wondering for months later, why did I do that?
a little guilt, a little remorse
more a question un-answered

the grind and beep of the garbage truck across the street
and the taste of water from the gym water fountain
Eddie Money singing, "I've got two tickets to paradise...."

while I take my car once more to the mechanic
another 600 dollars
sidewalks inhabited by street folk who walk slowly beyond my eye's gaze
and think about sleep
their backpacks are leaden weights

wooden table
plastic fork
paper cup
an apple with skin slightly puckered near the stem
(and where in the world is the tree from which it was plucked)

crows feet at the edges of the eyes in the mirror
a grumbling stomach
a body that needs heat
skin on skin
barely time to register the need

ice on the sidewalk, sidestepped
a whole bunch of bananas, slipped from a bag and crushed in the street
or thrown from a passing car

the recollection of a long, long black snake
one summer
crushed on the black top
and the neighbor asking, who would run over a snake

my husband's hand in mine

on another street, a man crawling into his home from his wheelchair
you tell me
at least we have the use of our legs

the car overnight with the mechanic
the aroma of a sweet potato left too long in the oven

and finally sliding into bed
cold feet first
legs that guide a final destination with inexorable purpose
the body curls around a lovely space
that defines emptiness
and everything else in the universe

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