Time is.....

Circa 1975, Modesto, CA ~ I am the guy wearing sunglasses

Time flies, 
or so it seems.
We remember.
and sometimes
we forget.
Time really doesn't move,
there is no past,
no present,
no future.
There is just
one flowing,
moving,
perception
of this or that.
If we are awake,
we realize
it's time for 
a good laugh,
or a good cry,
or a moment of silence,
or a movement out,
even a movement in.
For what we have,
is always 
right in front 
of our eyes.

Wonji

Chùa Thiên Ân April 25, 2015

high mountain desert zen center

morning breaks at five am,

a quick cup of coffee

then off for morning rituals.

seated in the zendo

as the howling northwest wind

slides through

partially open windows,

howling and hissing

as it dances about

chilling my skin.

sudden gusts

shake at the trees

as they rhythmically

sway in the blustery chill,

while the temple chimes

ring out to awaken all beings.

constant cadence

from the time keepers clock

as morning light

creeps in through

tiny windows.

a single moth

lights on the altar

playing in the

morning candle’s light.

in the midst of

the chaos

is a stillness

of unequalled

proportion.

ring the bell

three times,

strike the chugpi

twice.

out side

the traffic noise

of a waking

desert world.

Carrying a Plank on our Shoulders

when we take off 
the blinders of thought,
what is left 
is just the truth.
old Sakyamuni
saw through it first,
Bodhidharma said it well,
while passing through the gate,
let go of thoughts and ideas,
don't live your life
in a book of concepts.
Dahui burned the books
he wanted to take back
his gift of questioning,
but the cat was loose
and his efforts in vain,
what is this-
this very moment.
how can I assist
in the integration
of no thing?
with a smile
a hug
and support
beyond measure.
to nurture
means 
to love 
always 
in the balance 
of naught.
seeing the truth
before thought or concept,
compassion
arrises
by natural process.......
~ wonji

in the silence and darkness of predawn

in the silence 
and darkness predawn—
my room illuminated only
by blue light emitting diode’s
and the glow of a computer screen.
all seems to move slowly,
for there becomes purpose 
in every creak
and every flutter of 
emanated sound.
sanctity always fills the air—
and at times like this
the silence is illuminated—
a place of sacred beauty.
the monitor reports—
nineteen degrees outside,
and I am grateful
for the roof, 
the walls and the technology
which cradle the inhabitants
of Dharmakaya Buddhist Abbey 
in warmth and relative safety.
every movement 
results in subtle sound—
so often missed
by a busy mind.
we live a miracle—
we don’t know why.
the picture on the wall
simply says, exhale!
yes, of course,
this is all 
by natural process.
thus, I pay homage
to every teacher 
and monk,
who has trodden
this dusty path
for the last
two thousand 
seven hundred years.
for were I not
to have heard 
the teaching,
I would surely
be a poor wretch
right now
scratching out an existence.
instead
I have become 
a wretch
who is content
with each moment
of simplicity 
and brilliant
wonder.

an early morning poem

waking at five am,
darkness still resounds-
only the light 
of the tablet
fills the room.
silence pervades
this sleepy community,
even the birds
have yet to awake.
serenity exists
in every moment,
its just that
in the midst 
of activity
we sometimes 
forget.
autumn is a time
of transition,
the leaves lose their color
much like my grey beard
was once brown.
by natural process
the stream of moments
appear-then another moment
appears before the last
has gone. 
don't occupy your life
with past, present or future,
immerse this presence
in the unfolding experience
like the birds take to the air.
don't try to figure it out,
just enjoy this journey
already in progress,
it's not too late
to yield to your life.

what do we know

what do we know?

and why do we struggle so?

there is harmony in our breath

so what folly becomes reality?

we buy an idea

that comes from where?

we scream at the top of our lungs

that this is the path

is the sacred way,

and that all others 

are fallen spirits

who have lost their way.

yet this distraction

from the mirror

of our own humanity,

this projection

outward–

causes us to lose

our true selves.

spiritual empowerment

comes from attaining

who and what we are,

comes from a center

of self effacing brilliance.

those who seek 

the path outside

are merely

sheep

on the path

to the slaughterhouse,

wildly baying

at the sun.

when the focus

is turned within

no one can say

what delights

and joys

will appear.

wonji dharma

the question

asked by a student today,

what constitutes Zen Poetry,

don’t know is all there is

or has ever been

since the beginning of time.

we struggle with life,

yet life unfolds by itself,

we want

we desire

we attempt to direct

and always fail.

life is our teacher

and this path is clear

and bright

in front of us.

it is only when we do not

choose to listen

to the rhythms

of the world

that we are lost

in time and space.

yet who made time

and who made space,

as the simplicity

of green tea

steaming in a pot

refreshing and wondrous

appears with its flavor and savor

when we just let go

who is it that tastes

or smells

ah the essence appears

and no one is any wiser.

Wonji Dharma