Poems

Grace

Quietly, now
The grace that we've been seeking
Has always been there
Patiently waiting

For us to turn around,
Reach out our hand and say,
"Thank you for staying here
While I was sleeping."

And how could it otherwise be?
Our true nature
Waits for us to turn back in gratitude, see
And feel our way, finally,
Home.

4/27/97

Coming to Meet (a glimpse)

I am not ever going to forget
Who I am
I am the sound of the bells
And the wind that moves through them
I am the journey and the destination
I am the breath
And the body that breathes it
I am the foot and the earth that touches it
I am the lover and the beloved
I am the cat crying
And the one who comforts it.
Ageless, faceless, timeless, nameless,
Unborn and undying, constant yet ever-changing,
I was before the earth began
I will be after it is gone.
God willing,
I am not ever going to forget.
Who I am.

2/11/98

Knowing
There is a place of pure knowing
Have you been there?
It appears when the mind is still
Like a clear mountain pool
That reflects everything as it is
Without changing even a leaf.

You must be very still inside
To see this way
Clear to the bottom
With no thoughts.

Sometimes the more we try, the less we arrive
The mind believes it can take us there
But the road ends at a precipice.

Each step taken in surrender can feel like dying
But moment by moment,
As we trust and breathe,
We begin to remember
That it was all complete
From the beginning.
There, not knowing how,
We know everything.

12/97

Origin in Winter

Yesterday is a dream

and tomorrow an illusion

Living completely in the present moment

the future takes care of

itself

9/77

Accepting everything, expecting nothing,

Keep coming back to the present moment

Where everything you've ever wished for

Already is.

1/6/98

I want my life to be about honoring
Honoring the tea, the tea bag,
The plastic cup and the one who made it.
Honoring the taste, the warmth in my belly,
These moments of tasting and drinking,
Moments that will never come again,
That are my life.

I honor this meal
And the ones who planned and cooked it
And the ones who planted, grew, nurtured, harvested and transported the
food
So that I might eat
And continue to live.
I honor the formica table in the cafeteria, like a child's first drawing,
The campfire taste of the soup,
Left a little too long on the heat.

I honor this gift of my life
Its fleeting pleasures and pains.
I honor this body,
The most precious gift,
Appearing for a short time
Then vanishing forever,
Belonging to no one.

I honor this precious time,
The opportunity to awaken
And that which led me to imagine
It was possible.

4/19/2000

Yucca Valley vipassana retreat