Tag: illusion

Categories
Philosophy Poetry

Elevated Intentions (…still need wisdom)

sympathy is
       I see your suffering, and I relate
empathy is
       I see your suffering, and I wish to relate
compassion is
       I see your suffering and I wish you to be free from it
bodhichitta is
       I cannot bear to see your suffering, so I will become enlightened to free you from it

Most of what we speak & seek
is causes for – and sympathy;
but how much better would life be,
if we abandoned victim mentality?

Why is sorrow such a strange addiction,
so familiar to my mind?
I cannot be free from misery;
it’s all I’ve known and all I’ll find!
       — such an easy thing to cry
believing escape from suffering a lie
unknowing there’s a firm way out
for those with patient, faithful eyes,
for those who abandon deluded doubt

                           — What imagination is this!
what strength it takes to change one’s sight
no material quest could yield such result
for in samsara one cannot do right

                           — What can one do!
rely upon blessings & elevate intention
remain natural while wishing to help; think:
Oh! What would it really be like
       to be happy and kind spontaneously
to face all problems with joyful mind
with strength and courage to defeat all foes
while maintaining love and compassion, I’ll find
it easy for blessings to arise, received and bestowed
I’ll help all living beings with ease and with grace

I’ll abandon delusion, because fearless I face
 the appearances that rise and fall –
       hallucinations, like dreams –
understanding reality, from mind,
                                  is never as seems
because I’m grasping, anxious, clinging
my stories are hard to let go
I should instead rewrite myself the hero
great responsibility mine, undeniably so

How could I cope with this level of fame?
in anonymity, no one knowing my name
in correct paths I follow
                      but I must impute
I’m no longer a victim, no longer the brute
seeing myself the lowest of all,
through infinite timelines, I recall
the artist’s drive to wield the sword
       settling instead for
              ink seldom seen and music sometimes heard
       limited proud intention
to right the wrongs and mend men’s minds
still what more can I do but mimic
in appreciation of writers of Blake’s kind
              I render copied letter into copied word

Tyger, Tyger burning bright
surprised to find you here tonight
easy confidence, phat face
curly locks, so out of place
twinkle, twinkle, of thyne eye
what is your fearful symmetry?
absent, as one pupil enlarged
brightly burning in furnace forged
what is they breath? thy breast? thy might?
so like a woman in the night!
odd & absent-minded maid
back to cold burner, you do fade

he speaks to her with bleary eye
long-winded and past-wounded
he longs for sympathy, to cry
nearly, he is refusèd
she listens with a weary ear
she’s heard it all before
her heart is hardened, scarred by fear
his hurt she can ignore
what good is sympathy to folks
with pain and broken heart
it is compassion that fixes our flaws
so simple is our part

from compassion comes love
and it’s easy to flourish
exchange self with others
with a quick change of intention
to complete all actions with ease
we develop bodhichitta motivation
with familiarity come all habits
spontaneous, effortless
removing delusions from our mind
we soon derive meaning
from the very thing that was,
from our side,      meaningless

develop and meditate upon
correct intention

pray for wisdom

sympathy is
       I see your suffering, and I relate
empathy is
       I see your suffering, and I wish to relate
compassion is
       I see your suffering and I wish you to be free from it
bodhichitta is
       I cannot bear to see your suffering, so I will become enlightened to free you from it

Categories
Poetry

Controlled Demolition

Everyone expects

      A bang!

           A surprise!

     Shock and chaos
        reflected in wide blue eyes

But falling in its own footprint

The detritus simply smokes

Blinding our eyes
                little surprise
      we can’t realize

The truth of the state
                 which we create

Too close we’ve come
        too far we’ve been
we now seek something in between

In degenerate times
    it is impossible to build purely

Follow the path out
         and do not rejoice in death

make good use of this little time left

Categories
Dreams Poetry

In Prism

I

I wake from a dream
sweat pools around me
although
               just moments ago
I was cold
                   in

a basement… a  … funhouse
with a tilted floor… and
       I…  crawled
               in perpetual mental pain to a wall of mirrors
              toe-to-ceiling, reflecting
back at me, a hundred
                 topsy-turvy, curvy
                                               selves
not one I could identify as     me
    and yet all of them were
and were not         so I turned
    to run
                  and the reflective wall
appeared behind me –            now in front
and I cried
         loud enough to

startle myself back
          to a reality
     with a different feeling

later

now awake,              I carry a mirror upstairs
on my back
          like the cross
pretending I’m Christ
          like I’ve made
any kind of
            sacrifice
            and compared to what?

I place the mirror
          on the floor –
                  it’s taller than me
an expensive beauty
        broken frame and all
and staring through the glass
        seeing a version of
                            my hard eyes
I cannot help but recall
all the faults, the harm
I continue to perform,
           as if addicted to
such impure actions,
           as if, on a lower level, I believe
they’d bear the fruit
                  happiness

I know they won’t
       they can’t

I reach out to touch
the other me,
             as if she is outside my mind
and
           maybe because the frame is broken
I transcend

II

My hand melts through the glass
as if it was water pooling,
                   gently falling
         and re falling
I am still recalling
           my regret, which melts into reliance
as the drink pours,
             so slips away this
dirt, this grit, this sticky mind
      that clings to labels like
victim and judge and unkind
        stuck with thorny negativity
and unwell-wishes, murderous minds
         diminished to the doom they
longed to cause –
          I no longer seek
  to plants those seeds
            for I see they are
the very flaw in my design,
     my own suffering mind,
now and in infinite future lives,
                                        my pain

         if      I allow evil
               to remain

I step through the frame
       and my old world falls away
flipped upside down and landing
        right side up, upon my feet
destined to meet each opponent
when applied correctly
so I may kill the weeds
in the garden of
                happiness

         by mere name, or magic,
I am handed impeccable causes
                      and a spade
         of virtue, in a foggy field outside
     under the lavender twilight ceiling
peppered with twinkle-
         twinkle little stars
    a voice descends from the
peri   winkle night
and makes requests to me

                      to not
take this dream too seriously

   then
            oh!   how!    summer’s dawn
             blossoms to a
halcyon day,
          seasons that
             quickly come are
                                                              faster to go,
              oh! warning signs
cannot prevent karma’s ripening
              only remind us,
                               now! appreciate … ah! still –
                               winter’s here without delay
                               (no one believed me)

hardly harvest rose and went

well, I’ll still learn from cyclical existence
                                    (until I, too, forget
                      it should happen soon – as I )
at least enjoy the present,
                       this moment, now

before
           I feel it fade away
                                 (if I only I could
                       remember it somehow)

time has passed… how much?

    we cannot say as history’s been changed
and I’ve been trapped
                      prompted to play
      in the dirt
             burying effort
for another day

I could beg for pleasure  
      but it’s a little late
                        
as I fully believe
                   my senses
feeling               as the soil dampens
my now-dirty hands,
still neatly folded
                     dividing dirt,
               I’ve become the spade
just a tool
           in somebody else’s arsenal

so indeed, on knees, I pray
                    this meat body remain
                             only long enough
to attain
          swiftest enlightenment
in this life

(not too much to ask
with a Bodhisattva mind –
            if only I could be
that mind and see the emptiness
                         of me!)

for the suffering of many is great
and I am but one  
             one who can transform
the greatest suffering
             and the
             the happiest temporary mind

so let me be of use!

 let my grip loose on the solid self
       let me see the impermanence of man
             bathed in sorrow, in such sadness
                                as if he never had a plan
                                (you know who you are)

                           an appearance, a specter
the impermanence of all phenomena

I see this as I sew the seeds
       I never asked to receive –
  but I’m certainly not discarding
       until at least I’ve tried!

damn the fact I’ve never had
     a green thumb –
                   that’s what friends are for

It never occurs to me to
go back through the mirror
now my attention has
               got a new  mission
and my senses tell me
                      this is my reality

I rinse myself
 under water that falls from a tap
      I call mine
           walking with legs
      I hate
         but that I call mine
    living a life I hate
                 but I call mine
         it doesn’t occur to me to let go
so  I garden
         and I don’t let go
I was given a chance
         and I didn’t let go

I waited to be awoken
         instead of waking others
and I didn’t let go

         I insisted
    that I tried
                but I just tried to make it real

and the dream could not be made real
                         because   –
     compared to what?

I probably should have let go

              I listen, mistakenly,
                    to samsara’s music
touching my reflection
                                 and wondering

can I go through the mirror
                     again?

                     why try at all?

   what do I think I’ll find
             outside the prism of my
silly,
             silly
                                  mind?

Categories
Buddhism Dreams Poetry

Temporary Illusion-like Appearance

          Open your mind, heart
          to feel what you feel, name it

your Spiritual Guide whispers to you
as a wave that laps the sandy shore, gently
receding, absent whitecaps

          Name what you feel
          be not afraid
          for what rises will fall
          and what fear have we
          of what is not permanent,
          never mind what we cannot name?
          What we cannot name does not exist,
          so what is it?

and you go within,
as instructed for
within is all there is
when there is
no out there out there

and you feel

disappointment
red, raw, and sinewy
funnily, sadly, and sorely
familiar, rubbed, worn and
blistered, in risk of rot
if you let it fester like
resentment –
                    you can’t
I was here first          your way
in or out of this one

it’s not yours, except
you lay claim to its
disappointment
as though it could have been
if it could have it would have
and it didn’t so it won’t

and you think

acceptance
the sweetest fruit,
sometimes the heaviest to bear
laid at your feet as you risk despair
only having to pick it up, lift it
with legs of wisdom,
but no –
                    I chose
to disappoint       myself

yet, hope

hope is here too
blossoming as a new bud
for disappointment
could not create sorrow
where love and compassion
had already taken root –
my mind protected by a gate of
incredible goodness, the only pleasure
I’ll happily increase in samsara’s garden
where running never yields escape
for the iron fence is the nature
of the mind – presently misunderstood

so hope,

hope that yields to faith
is what transforms my dream
because I must believe that
change is possible, is real
to make progress, effort, heal
I trust my Spiritual Guide’s instructions
for I put them to the test
and when hope transformed to purest
Faith, I see they are the best
and still my foolish mind cannot
afford to rest

because I was the mind of
unnecessary disappointment today
the utmost waste of breath
when each and every thing that’s ripened
has been for my swift path’s benefit
          so this too I will transform
and birth love so great it shall
become the norm, even if time be brief
we have so little to work with,
yet there’s so much we can achieve
if we hold correct belief

so, still I see the disappointment
my mind claims as mine – though truly
I could do without, here, add to that list
my deluded doubt
                    I know my happiness doesn’t lie here,
and still I mourn a temporary loss –
                    so instead, I donate
these mistaken minds to the cause,
the cause of the effect, the only one
I wish to possess, the greatest mind
of precious Enlightenment

(for others’ benefit, may I forever cease
these horrible, painful minds of suffering)

Categories
Dreams Poetry

Elemental Insanity

I am of the earth

and I do not trust the water

It laps my shore
I lick it up, moistened
soft and damp
left yearning
unoiled lamp
left polished
but wanting wear

I’m earthen
–yet rarely feet have trodden here
while I walk the substrate bare-
footed, rare to see another
with the will to exhaust
such karma there–
upon my earth
travellers now fear
such dirt
and toxins leached have
run amuck
now gotten stuck
upon my shores
where you wish to lap me up

I do not trust
I will not harm the beings near
and you, my dear

I stretch my eye to the edge of
the horizon — trying to find where
water ends and sky begins
unaware I’m standing in
that ether now
my waist deep wading
transcends liminal space
and I no longer seek
to stretch my sightless senses far
but rather remain to feel
the space around

I look up and down and see that
in the sky, reflected back,
a different sea, a cloud
soaring condensation
ready to transform at any
moment, dark and massive
holding deceptive weight
threatening to rise the tides
and drown us all

I don’t trust the water

— — — — —

I am of the air

I do not trust the fire

I love it, though,
and how alluring
it dances and matches
my rhymic fancies
alighting neither
here nor there

like spark to ash
rising into the night
up to the stars –suddenly
dying, vanishing and descending
silently — crying and proclaiming
that life’s not fair

the fire burns me up
its heat draws me in
as if an answer
to the ice around my heart
as if it could possibly melt
lifetimes of anger
turned sorrow to rock
how I wished the fiery
heat-of-passion-
spawned aggression
was the answer
crystal clear —
yet the delusion’s not
so before I’m eaten up
I make like a deer
and run

I do not trust the fire

— — — — —

I am of the light

I do not trust the space
my depth perception’s off
my conception’s out of place
I do not trust the time
the way it moves so slow
to the uncomprehending mind
that dims my afterglow

I don’t like the space between us
as messages get lost, and
when you’re seeing me as separate
with problems you are fraught
I see emptiness before me
yet mistakenly, I know
naming ordinary appearance
where boundless magic grows

I do not like refraction
how it contaminates my rays
I am pure light
I feel it
yet space eliminates & constrains —
though I am the brilliant being

I don’t trust the space

— — — — —

I am of deep ignorance

or else I would escape
this elemental game —
this cyclical existence
in which I’m continuously betrayed
by each and all delusions
that gather round my head
and constrict my heart’s pace so
I can barely catch my breath
it’s time to let this go
into the water I will drown them
& with the current
let them flow

Categories
Dreams Poetry

The Illusion

I saw a puppy dog in your eyes
I consulted with the night
“Is this a disguise?”
I waited and waited but heard no reply.

I heard an old soul in your voice
I questioned my spirit guides
“Have I before made this choice?”
They laughed and whispered, “Silly pride.”

I retrieved a fiery star
from a faraway realm
“I felt something stir,
and he felt like home.”

“O foolish girl,
we’ve told you before;
you’ll know when you feel it,
you know you need more.”

I combed with my eyes,
searched above and below,
searched within faces,
searched for what I know.

Unexpected, unexpected,
was the whisper from the moon.
Unexpected, unexpected —
but was that going to be soon?

There’s a craving and a longing,
like I’ve come unmoored.
There’s an anxious buzzing dancing,
and I’m yearning to be cured.

Seeking through external,
same mistake as before.
I know it when I feel it,
I know going in means more.

I released the burning star
“What does unexpected mean?”
“You’re missing the point,
stop playing ordinary being.”

I imagined I saw pain in your eyes.
I confessed to the night
“He reflects my disguise.”
“Your wisdom grows,” the dark replied.

I felt a soft soul on your skin,
but the imprints came from mind.
I recognized my old soul from within,
and promised, “This time I’ll be kind.”

The pain I’ve caused in countless lives,
has come against me stacked
with loneliness as a simple karmic scale
bringing balance when with patience I react. 

I accept and cultivate pure love
as an antidote to suffering – both mine
and yours – and with gratitude to guides above
heart embrace, entwine and with universe align.

Virtue and emptiness and wisdom and union
through my intention, ultimate and supreme
with universal compassion, the ultimate communion
and above all else, I will remember the dream.