Always Changing Mind

trying to hold on
to what does not exist
is like grabbing air
within your hand
you may reach
and hold tightly
but invisible air
you shall not land

that is the way of truth
claiming to have found
and the moment you try
explaining to others
solidity of truth
begins to disintegrate
always changing mind
seeks another

-J.R.P.

Calligraphy

The act of calligraphy
A legacy of beauty
That resonates a mystical quality
of gracefulness within
Like a soothing wind.
As fire and water intertwine
Sparking the beauty within the mind
Find expression through flowing lines.
As the Earth nurtures,
The woods that from form into papers
The element of metal
becomes a spiritual vehicle.

-Tharpa Rinchen, Kim Thul Ouk

Liberation Jewel

Circling through Space and Time
Trapped in Mara's bind
I give back what is not mine
Hatred, ignorance, greed and envy
Like a Liberation Jewel in a stormy sea
I now set myself free
Riding on the breath
That resonates life motions
Opening up to Nirvana total freedom.

-Tharpa Rinchen, Kim Thul Ouk
 

Listening to Silence

Preparing to Sit
Green tea permeates the room
with mint, rosehips and lemongrass.
Tea is the perfect moderation
opening an awareness without force.
In minutes I will take my one seat
and attempt nothing.
“We are shoveling snow in the summer,
and painting the sky,” my lama says.
Notice what comes.
The sky begins just above the ground.
The sun is everywhere until it finds
a rock or a tree to dance on.
My fingers explore the edge of shadow.
There is no break between the seen and the hidden.
Discernment can’t catch up to the present.
Mindfulness, however, will suggest the way
without telling me anything I can keep.
Again, simply notice.
The magpie is performing her story,
earthworms are moving through solid ground.

On the Cushion
Imagine the thirst a cloud could quench.
Through water all life touches life.
Like Bodhisattva, clouds hover
and then return, scattering their eggs.
At dusk I will take notice—
a quality will ring through, drala
stopping my continual search for something nameless.
When clouds run into the sun
rainbows arise up the spine.
The air has rubbed its way through hyssop.
My windhorse has fed on flowers.
Each moment is a new dawn.
What I now know
grows as rapid as what I realize
I do not know.
Bodhi is as gentle as melting butter
on fresh baked bread.

Taking Leave
Everything I have witnessed
is patterned in my cells ready for celebration.
Thoughts pass. Emotion sheds drama like dust
while another breath continues on its own.
The day has come forward another notch.
I do not see the lion stalking from behind.
The lion does not impinge on my joy.
I am already fulfilled
as a seed on fertile ground
and the moon glows with compassion
when it is tired, and when it is strong.

- Zachary Redfearne

Present Limits

Rising from shamatha
I enter the boiling heat of midday
and try to reassure myself
that there is the heat
as sensation,
and also the heat itself
as source.

Gasping under the guileless sun,
I am immersed in the song and sorrow
welling up and emptying the breath.
I do not actually know
Feeling life move through me
if I am to celebrate or grieve.
People scurry to cars
then whiz past in a different cadence
than where my heart abides.
I am almost beyond thought
until I remember how you left hours ago,
and how your words overlayed the songbirds outside.
What losses my mind holds renouncing emptiness!
How noble the heart feels when broken.

I find myself walking without direction
until I come to a familiar winery.
Here, I've sometimes drunk a whole carafe
of wine, sometimes of water,
today only vinegar.
I laugh at how it pours out—
the carafe only an illusion of security.
Just so, my worthiness diminishes
to a lack of need not even tears can restore.

All I am is the mirror of the glass
stillness entered before perception.
I tell you it is best not to bring a light,
not look into this insistent mirror.
Instead, I deliquesce into that looking out:
unborn awareness.

Back on the street,
the veil upon which the stars rest
is impervious to wind and desperate measures.
The heat has receded,
but I won't believe in the dark.
Just as I begin to trust its anonymity,
the light returns
still beckoning.

- Zachary Redfearne