the bird's home

the deep dense valley
is filled with a thick fog:
a bird returns to the valley
but cannot find her nest.

when you open your eyes,
you have lost your way;
when you close your eyes,
you have lost your home.

March 1974

cloud Buddha

clapping hands together,
gazing over the southern mountain,
dense white clouds spreading outward—
various shapes appear;
dog—tiger—man
eventually transforming into Buddha.
then alas—the clouds begin to dissipate
and disappear over the mountain.

August 1973

Enlightenment Day Poem

cats, dogs and oxen–all understand.
sky, mountains and rivers–all understand.
trees, glowers and rocks–all understand.
they have no speech–only do it!
already is manifest–correct way, truth and correct life.

someone loses an ox for a long, long time,
searches for the ox, but alas has no direction.
only don’t know…….
one day discovering the truth,
this person hits the ground.
Yaaaaah……. there is the ox!
but the ox is very strong and charges around,
so holding the rope tightly–try, try, try.
eventually the ox surrenders,
as the ox eats grass they only rest together.
then–riding the ox and returning home
while playing a flute–la, la, la.
the willow is green and the flower is red.

yet, already riding on the back of this ox,
and going out in search of this ox–
that is very funny and also very stupid!
therefore Buddha is also stupid.
why did he sit for six years under the bodhi tree?
already–one by one, each thing has it.
it and dust interpenetrate.
it has already appeared in all things.

so Buddha, what was your enlightenment?
what did you transmit?
you are very funny
and this is a funny world.
the stone ox is laughing–
mu, mu, mu…..
Golden Buddha shines through this enlightenment day.

Zen Master Seung Sahn
December 5, 1981

images

slipping between ideas
and projected images
we struggle to create
a reality outside of truth.
our job is to create some
alternative and interesting
story which transcends
the mundane existence
of our lives.
we think if we can
seek the controversy
or seek the exotic
that we will achieve
success and fame.
so we manufacture
a reality outside
of the truth
and outside of presence.
and the we try to live
this story
this play that we have written
that seems more
interesting than
the life that we lead.
the problem is
that the playwright
and the play
have been extracted
from the unfolding
of a life
which is flowing
from its source.
when we try to become
the playwright
and set a course
that isn’t in touch
with our situation
then we realize
there is no other
moment.

a birthday poem

we walk this path
and we are immersed
within a life of direction
and a life seemingly directed
by idea and belief.
yet what is it that we seek
from our birth
and what do we choose
to transcend from our death?
it is this coming
and going,
it is our life
and our death
that we see
and yet we don’t
see any of its significance.
moments arise
and moments pass,
we engage
and we disengage
yet is this what we are?
this life is simple
if we just can see
this very moment
as it unfolds
and comes into
our consciousness.
we are not our thoughts,
we are not our ideas,
we are not our opinions,
we are merely this moment
as it becomes
and as it slips away.
a very happy birthday
I wish you all the best
and hope to be with you soon.

there is a life

there is a life
within a life
that is within
another life
where we try
to find meaning.
it is this struggle
between the present
and the relative
and the absolute
where all of our
ideas fall into the abyss.
there is no way out
nor is there a way in,
we are simply here
and most of the time
we are searching
and we don’t know it.

the simple truth
is always present,
there is no this or that,
and there is no
here or there.
we are already
the truth embodied
in our experience
of each and every moment
which is unfolding
out of the not knowing,
and within the absolute
and within the relative
and yet all of this
is just thinking.
just breathe
and know the breath.
just see
and don’t make anything.
just hear
and become the sound.
just taste
and know that all experience is this.
just touch
and feel the firmness of now.

fishing

thousand foot fishing line,
drops deep in the water–
as a single wave radiates outward.
following the ten thousand waves,
a quiet night,
cold water,
the bait–as yet
never touched.
empty boat–
on a still pond
is full of
silver moonlight.

August 1973