subtle spontaneity

Prisoner

2005-08-12T20:45:00.000-07:00

`Prisoner, tell me, who was it that bound you?'

`It was my master,' said the prisoner.

`I thought I could outdo everybody in the world in wealth and power,

and I amassed in my own treasure-house the money due to my king.

When sleep overcame me I lay upon the bed that was for my lord,

and on waking up I found I was a prisoner in my own treasure-house.'

`Prisoner, tell me, who was it that wrought this unbreakable chain?'

`It was I,' said the prisoner, `who forged this chain very carefully.

I thought my invincible power would hold the world captive

leaving me in a freedom undisturbed.

Thus night and day I worked at the chain

with huge fires and cruel hard strokes.

When at last the work was done

and the links were complete and unbreakable,

I found that it held me in its grip.'

- Gitanjali , Rabindranath Tagore

Krishna's flute

2005-06-25T14:18:00.000-07:00

my heart lay beside pallid waters where lotus once grew I was inconsolable without you The anguish the pain was like incessant rain and I feared I would Never see you again Then I heard the flute its silver notes meandering fields of golden grain Suddenly from the dieing embers in my heart emerged a Brilliant flame and from Yours a Phoenix flew And our love would Never be the same c.Douglas E. Fireman

Fool

2005-05-24T13:45:00.000-07:00

O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders!

O beggar, to come beg at thy own door!
Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all,

and never look behind in regret.

Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with its breath.

It is unholy---take not thy gifts through its unclean hands.

Accept only what is offered by sacred love.

- Rabindranath Tagore

Serenity Prayer

2005-05-22T15:35:00.000-07:00

GOD, grant me the Serenity
to accept the things
I cannot change,
Courage to change the
things I can,
and the Wisdom
to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardship as the
pathway to peace.

Taking, as He did, this
sinful world as it is,
not as I would have it.

Trusting that He will make
all things right if I
surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy
in this life, and supremely
happy with Him forever in
the next.

Amen

By Reinhold Niebuhr (1892-1971)

Look to this Day

2005-05-16T17:49:00.000-07:00

Look to this day:
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course
Lie all the verities and realities of your existence.
The bliss of growth,
The glory of action,
The splendour of achievement
Are but experiences of time.

For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision;
And today well-lived, makes
Yesterday a dream of happiness
And every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day;
Such is the salutation to the ever-new dawn!

- Kalidasa

The World is Mine

2005-05-09T21:06:00.000-07:00

Today upon a bus I saw a girl with golden hair;
She seemed so gay, I envied her, and wish that I were half so fair;
I watched her as she rose to leave, and saw her hobble down the aisle.
She had one leg and wore a crutch, but as she passed--a smile.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;
I have two legs--the world is mine.

Later on I bought some sweets. The boy who sold them had such charm,
I thought I'd stop and talk awhile. If I were late, t'would do no harm.
And as we talked he said, "Thank you, sir, you've really been so kind.
It's nice to talk to folks like you because, you see, I'm blind"
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;
I have two eyes--the world is mine

Later, walking down the street, I met a boy with eyes so blue.
But he stood and watched the others play; it seemed he knew not what to do.
I paused, and then I said, "Why don't you join the others, dear?"
But he looked straight ahead without a word, and then I knew, he couldn't hear.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;
I have two ears--the world is mine.

Two legs to take me where I go,
Two eyes to see the sunset's glow,
Two ears to hear all I should know,
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine;
I'm blest, indeed, the world is mine.

- Dr. Tennyson Guyer

Leave This

2005-05-08T22:59:00.000-07:00

Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads!

Whom dost thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all shut?

Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before thee!

He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground

and where the pathmaker is breaking stones.

He is with them in sun and in shower,

and his garment is covered with dust.

Put off thy holy mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!
Deliverance?

Where is this deliverance to be found?

Our master himself has joyfully taken upon him the bonds of creation;

he is bound with us all for ever.
Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and incense!

What harm is there if thy clothes become tattered and stained?

Meet him and stand by him in toil and in sweat of thy brow.

- Rabindranath Tagore

Selfless

2005-05-06T23:39:00.000-07:00

When the charm of our youth has faded
Like rich paint melts in the sun,
When dismayed our spirits have fainted
Again and again
Only to rise renewed
Over and over
Through prayers offered,
Kind words,
Or unfailing love,
When the crossing of mighty waters
Becomes more of a normality
Than impossibility
And the mountains smoke with experience
Rather than doom,
When our dreams have been delivered unto us,
And goals reached
Our race is not run
For to mellow with age
Is to discover selflessness
And to give of self
Is to begin to live.

(c)--Christina Cowling

The Song of the Free

2005-05-04T10:27:00.000-07:00

The wounded snake its hood unfurls,
The flame stirred up doth blaze,
The desert air resounds the calls
Of heart-struck lion's rage.
The cloud puts forth it deluge strength
When lightning cleaves its breast,
When the soul is stirred to its in most depth
Great ones unfold their best.
Let eyes grow dim and heart grow faint,
And friendship fail and love betray,
Let Fate its hundred horrors send,
And clotted darkness block the way.
All nature wear one angry frown,
To crush you out - still know, my soul,
You are Divine. March on and on,
Nor right nor left but to the goal.
Nor angel I, nor man, nor brute,
Nor body, mind, nor he nor she,
The books do stop in wonder mute
To tell my nature; I am He.
Before the sun, the moon, the earth,
Before the stars or comets free,
Before e'en time has had its birth,
I was, I am, and I will be.
The beauteous earth, the glorious sun,
The calm sweet moon, the spangled sky,
Causation's law do make them run;
They live in bonds, in bonds they die.
And mind its mantle dreamy net
Cast o'er them all and holds them fast.
In warp and woof of thought are set,
Earth, hells, and heavens, or worst or best.
Know these are but the outer crust -
All space and time, all effect, cause.
I am beyond all sense, all thoughts,
The witness of the universe.
Not two nor many, 'tis but one,
And thus in me all me's I have;
I cannot hate, I cannot shun
Myself from me, I can but love.
From dreams awake, from bonds be free,
Be not afraid. This mystery,
My shadow, cannot frighten me,
Know once for all that I am He.

- Swami Vivekananda

A Strange Occurrence

2005-05-03T17:04:00.000-07:00

I'll never forget the moment
when I heard that haunting tune,
and how it kept on reoccurring
beneath the melancholy moon

Had I imagined this I wondered?...
as I glided on the ice,
this skating such a comfort to me
these past few grief-filled nights.

And when I heard the words,
"I love you," whispered through the night,
a phoenix flew from my heart with all my
love in flight.

Midst silent floating snowflakes
I saw you standing there.Your lovely face,
your auburn hair graced...
with sparkling wintry lace.

And as we danced that star-filled night
our eyes welled up with tears
as these two hearts beat rhythmically
to the music of the spheres.

c. Douglas E. Fireman

Mind Wanting More

2005-04-27T11:23:00.000-07:00

Only a beige slat of sun

above the horizon, like a shade pulled

not quite down. Otherwise,

clouds. Sea rippled here and

there. Birds reluctant to fly.

The mind wants a shaft of sun to

stir the grey porridge of clouds,

an osprey to stitch sea to sky

with its barred wings, some dramatic

music: a symphony, perhaps

a Chinese gong.

But the mind always

wants more than it has --

one more bright day of sun,

one more clear night in bed

with the moon; one more hour

to get the words right; one

more chance for the heart in hiding

to emerge from its thicket

in dried grasses -- as if this quiet day

with its tentative light weren't enough,

as if joy weren't strewn all around.

~ Holly Hughes ~

(America Zen A Gathering of Poets)

First Days of Spring - the Sky

2005-04-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

By Ryokan
(1758 - 1831)

English version by Stephen Mitchell

First days of spring -- the sky
is bright blue, the sun huge and warm.
Everything's turning green.
Carrying my monk's bowl, I walk to the village
to beg for my daily meal.
The children spot me at the temple gate
and happily crowd around,
dragging to my arms till I stop.
I put my bowl on a white rock,
hang my bag on a branch.
First we braid grasses and play tug-of-war,
then we take turns singing and keeping a kick-ball in the air:
I kick the ball and they sing, they kick and I sing.
Time is forgotten, the hours fly.
People passing by point at me and laugh:
"Why are you acting like such a fool?"
I nod my head and don't answer.
I could say something, but why?
Do you want to know what's in my heart?
From the beginning of time: just this! just this!

The Fools

2005-04-22T15:46:00.000-07:00

The moment of your work is unbelievable
When seen through their dogmatic eyes
For they can neither fathom the depth of your focus
Nor measure the strength of your faith
And determination

To them
You are impossible

Therefore

To them
You do not exist
Unless they need the impossible performed

In which case

They relent to your mastery
For reasons they have yet to appreciate
Let alone accept or declare

They are the blind leading the blind
Through the darkness of illusion
Hiding in vestments
And buildings under bell towers
Fashioned and constructed centuries ago
To house and protect their traditions
And face saving reasons
For being the fools they are

John Christopher
1986

National Association for Poetry Therapy

2005-04-19T07:03:00.000-07:00

Members' pages

Streams, Strawberries And Apple Trees

2005-04-17T21:44:00.000-07:00

The drifter
Not driven by compulsion
But fear of community
Camps by the wayside
In an orchard that ripples with streams
Strawberries and apple trees.
He picks from the fruit,
Drinks from the water
Then lays his head down
Where the business of small life stinks.
And when he sleeps
Mosquitoes suck from his flesh,
Flies blow with his breath
And brown rabbits eat
His last morsel of bread.
Yet the drifter,
Wilted from establishment
Fellowships with nature
While he dreams of streams,
Strawberries
And apple trees.

©--Christina Cowling