The Bell Rings


Sitting. Still. Mind wandering.

Thoughts come and go, space in-between.

Adjusting form, swishing cloth. A cough.

Stomach gurgling, like a trumpeting crane.

Spine straight, thumbs lightly touching.

Tires crunching gravel, muffled radio from within.

A raven croaks, “Good morning.

I am here. I am awake.”

I am all of this, suchness.

It is all me, ephemera.

Narrow chasms open to wide spaces.

The bell rings and I bow.


Vast and Shining


Here are some poems that I wrote after participating in a weekend zen retreat that left me feeling settled, gathered, animated and awake:

Bright as a drop of dew in dawns first light
Clearly shining in all directions
Like an explosion of a newborn star
Inconceivably vast, subtle and serene; exquisite in all seasons
Returning to the source, forgetting who
I am at ease, curious and full of joy.
Clearly shining
Infinite and vast
Flowing everywhere
How can there be any lack?
Clear and bright, vast and shining
The subtle source radiates in all directions
I laugh out loud, returning
To cool air and a steaming cup of tea.