Saturday, March 26, 2022

Joan Tollifson ~ Where is the boundary?


Blossoms blowing past my windows all day covering the walkway with white petals. Rushing water in the creek, dancing light rippling and swirling. Two mourning doves walking in single file across the roof, bobbing as they go. An ant traversing a rusty pipe. A wave of sadness passing through the bodymind. Little green leaves beginning to appear on the first bushes and trees. A single finger poking the computer keys, words spilling out onto the liquid screen. All of it one whole unfathomable happening—ownerless, borderless, seamless. 

Wars being fought, Gregorian chants being sung, the joy and the sorrow and the way it all goes together and can’t be pulled apart—all of it a fluid momentary creation, undeniably real and yet completely unpindownable, unresolvable, ungraspable. 

Is it possible to wake up NOW to the immediacy, the aliveness, the wonder of this ever-changing moment, just as it is, without needing to label and categorize and explain it in any way at all? Or maybe just to SEE how this labeling, categorizing and explaining happens by itself, and maybe to see it without being pulled in and hypnotized by it, and maybe even to notice that this conceptualizing and storytelling is itself an unresolvable, ungraspable waving of the shoreless ocean, like the ant traversing the rusty pipe and the blossoms blowing past the windows like snow and the single finger tapping the keys and the little black shapes called words spilling out and opening up in you.

Where is the boundary between inside and outside, between me and you, between joy and sorrow, between one moment and the next?




Wednesday, March 23, 2022

Spiritual Fools


“Everything is impermanent”, says the fool,
while looking for permanent enlightenment.

“Everything is interdependent”, says the fool,
wishing there would be good without bad.

“All is One”, says the fool,
while trying to go beyond duality.

“The Truth is here now”, says the fool,
while doing everything possible to get there.

“There is no self”, says the fool,
while struggling to get rid of it.

“We are all enlightened”, says the fool,
while setting out to heal himself and others.

“The finger is not the moon”, says the fool,
while sanctifying words and mantras.

“We should not be aggressive”, says the fool,
while engaging in asceticism.

“We should be more natural and spontaneous”, says the fool,
while the very trying to be prevents it.

The fools are many. They cry loudest for change and achieve nothing.
When will they wake up from the illusion that there is something wrong with what is?

Monday, March 21, 2022

Jeff Foster ~ Birdsong


 I lost interest in truth long ago.

All dreams of enlightenment
and its absence
Have crumbled into birdsong
Morning walks down untrodden paths
And the poetry of silence.

Truth can only be lived,
Never grasped.

Be miraculous, each day.