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