Baizhang Was A Very Bad Man

That Baizhang was a very bad man.

Since I met his wild fox

My eyes are open day and night,

Fixed on the wheel

That follows the foot

Of the ox that draws the cart.

If you're fond of sleepy dreaming, beware!

One look at this red-tailed devil

And the Age of Miracles

Is at an end.

"Cause and effect are very clear, and not a personal matter."

"Baizhang's Fox" is Case #2 in the seminal koan collection Mumonkan. It has been widely studied and commented on by many Zenists through the ages, but no more thoroughly or cogently, I think, than by Master Dogen. In addition to the famous essay in his Shobogenzo, he spoke in reference to it on six occasions in the chronicle of his dharma talks, Eihei Koroku. This poem was born while reading one of these, Dharma Hall Discourse #94 (pg. 135, Dogen's Extensive Record, trans. Leighton & Okumura.) Cause and effect are indeed not a personal matter, the Universe plays no favorites. If this were not so, gods and demons would crowd the landscape, leaving nowhere to even put one's foot down!

The wheel that follows the foot of the ox that draws the famous cart is from the opening passage of the Dhammapada, the Pali text that was the very first Buddhist text I ever laid eyes on, an image that has stayed with me all my life.

This fine looking fox comes from the Flicker Hive Mind site. To see more of their great photo selection, check 'em out at:

fiveprime.org/hivemind/ Tags/animals,fox

Drop by Drop

There is a quiet

Mountain brook,

Running peacefully and

Clear.

I put it in my mind,

Drop by

Drop.

I awoke at 1:30 this morning with this poem fully composed in my dreaming mind, complete just as you read it here. To anticipate your question concerning this running water image, yes, I did have to go to the bathroom! But I went there only to turn on the light and write the poem down in my notebook, not wanting to wake my wife with the light. Once written, I went back to bed, only to get back up a few minutes later to write down the following lines, which popped into my head and would not leave me alone until also written down. My poetry-composing mind was simply racing and would not let me sleep until I did its' bidding and committed these lines to print!.

I can't predict,

It's true,

The midnight poem's

Sudden birth.

But well I know

The 5 AM alarm

That's coming with

The dawn.

A cloudburst

Followed by

A steady

Drizzle.

The photo image above is the work of the very talented nature photographer B.K. Bishar, and is used with his kind permission. Thanks Bishar!

No Thorns in the Void

There are no thorns in the void,

Though you may pull

With all your might

You never can extract them.

There are no thrones in the void,

Though you may strive

All the days of your life,

You never will ascend them.

Mistaking one for the other

Will not make your task any easier,

For there are no thorns,

There are no thrones

In the void.

Now just answer me this,

Who is it that pulls?

Who is it that strains?

Who is it that puts their bloody

Shoulder to the wheel?

When there are no thrones,

You see,

No thorns,

In the Void.

I find myself these days spending far more time in the hospital than I would like. But I also have found the enforced quiet time of a three day stay to be quite conducive to study, reflection and especially to writing poetry. This poem had its' genesis in the reading of Thomas Cleary's translation of the Sui dynasty classic "Mo-ho Chih-kuan", or "Great Stopping and Seeing".

Written some time in the Sixth century, this work is a collection of lectures by the great T'ien-t'ai master Chih-i, and is a comprehensive course on the practices of Buddhist meditation. This work was one of the so-called Three Great Works of T'ien-t'ai Buddhism, but was also a source book for both Pure Land and Zen practitioners. Cleary's translation covers only the first quarter of the massive text, but it is a fascinating read.

It was rather late one night when I came across the line "There are no thorns in the void.", but my tired eyes at first saw "throne" instead of "thorn". I realized my error right away, but the thought took hold, a juxtaposition of these two words seemed to yield intriguing associations and a poem was born.

If you'd like to read "Stopping and Seeing" for yourself, it is available in the collection "Classics of Buddhism and Zen - Volume Five" by Thomas Cleary, from Shambala Publications.

Is It Just Me?

This from this morning's paper. Who else on Earth gets this kind of press?

Sunset

Sunset flares,

Blue, crimson and white.

Vast dome of twilight

Stretches empty,

Full of light.

Birds take flight

Borne on chilly breeze.

Standing silent, we watch,

No words,

Save these.

My Own Left Hand

Old friend, dread killer,

We met first so many years ago,

In a moonbeam stream

On a jungle floor.

When I saw your coiled power,

Your razor talons and bonecrack jaws,

Did I not gasp with fear?

Though your jagged stripes rippled

In the blue-beam light,

Though you crept ever toward me,

Your feet never touched the broken stones

And twisted roots of Mother Earth.

It was then I knew that you stood not

Amid those darkened tress,

But in the darker forest of my heart.

Now forty years have vanished

Like sooty smoke from a camp-fire,

Caught by a sudden breeze,

But still I know that you are with me.

My constant friend,

My own left hand.

I see your eyes in my own eyes reflected

In the still pool of night,

The full moon, silver, riding high

Above our shoulder in the sky.

I found this amazing tiger image by Getsu Tora at: www.uniquedaily.com/ electric-tiger/

This site has many very cool photos and graphics. Check it out!

A Possibility

In this troubled time,

Dear brother,

Consider this possibility;

God may find our tears

As beautiful as

He does our smile.

It will come as no surprise when I say that this poem is the product of adversity. The dear brother I address is really no one other than myself. The tears are my own, as is the smile. All is not well in Transplant Land, and my medical situation grows slowly worse. But, strange to say, as my body becomes more problematic my spirit seems to grow brighter, or at least, clearer.

A view has been growing in me that no one moment that we experience is any more significant or special than the next. Loss and gain, victory or defeat, all pale when we live just in this present moment, taking it just as it is, thoroughly examining it and living it. What appears good one moment may look bad the next, one's latest misfortune may reveal itself as to be a lucky break. When we rush to judge the quality of one moment, we may miss the arc of the trajectory of time, the face of the whole. The one contains the whole, the whole contains the one. Be still, and watch this lovely petal unfold!

"The Way is not difficult for those who avoid picking and choosing."

The photo is one I took recently during a rainstorm in Utah, just south of St. George.