A Finger Pointing at the Moon

A finger pointing at the moon:
Such are the Teachings, they say.
The Writings themselves are not the Truth;
They merely point the way.

Direct experience leads us to
The gateway of the inspired.
Yet trying to describe the ineffable with words
Leaves much to be desired.

Journeying through life we encounter distractions,
Which in their clever fashion
Can obfuscate the clarity
Of the heart of true compassion

Or lead us down a confusing path
Where knowledge and wisdom are blurred,
And the hopes of our transcending the mundane
Are stifled by a word.

Seeking the Truth is a noble goal;
Awareness comes never too soon.
Just be careful not to mistake
The finger for the moon.

~Bob B

The Little Duck

Now we are ready to look
at something pretty special.
It is a duck riding the ocean
a hundred feet beyond the surf,
as he cuddles in the swells.
There is a big heaving in the Atlantic,
and he is part of it.
He can rest while the Atlantic heaves,
because he rests in the Atlantic.
Probably he doesn't know
how large the ocean is.
And neither do you.
But he realizes it.
And what does he do, I ask you?
He sits down in it.
He reposes in the immediate
as if it were infinity—which it is.
That is religion, and the duck has it.
How about you?

~Donald C. Babcock

Clarity

After the leaves fall
in the village at the foot
of Ogura Peak,
one can see through the 
     tree branches
the moon shining
     in the clear.

                      ~Saigyo

So Lonely

So lonely
I leave the hut
and gaze out—
the leaves of the rice plants
bending like waves in the autumn wind.

                                                       ~Ryokan

Entering the Marketplace

Entering the marketplace barefoot and unadorned.

Blissfully smiling, though covered with dust and ragged of clothes.

Using no supernatural power, you bring the withered trees spontaneously into bloom.

~Stage Ten of the Ox-herding Pictures

A Poem by Rumi

Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy,
absentminded. Someone sober
will worry about things going badly.
Let the lover be.

A Poem by Rumi

All day and night, music,
a quiet, bright
reedsong. If it
fades, we fade.

A Community of the Spirit

There is a community of the spirit.
Join it, and feel the delight
of walking in the noisy street,
and being the noise.

Drink all your passion,
and be a disgrace.

Close both eyes
to see with the other eye.

Open your hands,
if you want to be held.

Sit down in this circle.

Quit acting like a wolf, and feel
the shepherd's love filling you.

At night, your beloved wanders.
Don't accept consolations.

Close your mouth against food.
Taste the lover's mouth in yours.

You moan, "She left me." "He left me."
Twenty more will come.

Be empty of worrying.
Think of who created thought!

Why do you stay in prison
when the door is so wide open?

Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking.
Live in silence.

Flow down and down in always
widening rings of being.

                                                      ~Rumi

The Lame Goat

You've seen a herd of goats
going down to the water.

The lame and dreamy goat
brings up the rear.

There are worried faces about that one,
but now they're laughing.

because look, as they return,
that goat is leading!

There are many different kinds of knowing.
The lame goat's kind is a branch
that traces back to the roots of presence.

Learn from the lame goat,
and lead the herd home.

                                                            ~Rumi

Wisdom

Do not seek to follow in the footsteps of the wise,

Seek what they sought.

~Basho

While looking at a Dandelion the other day,

it asked me,

"Don't you know that ogling's impolite?'

(We both laughed.)

Love Letters

Every day, priests minutely examine the law
and endlessly chant profound sutras.
Before this, though, they should first
read the love letters sent by the Wind and the Rain,
the Snow and the Moon.

                                                    ~Zen Master Ikkyu

Don't Ask

Understanding should be what you yourself               understand;
mind is not someone else's mind!

                                                   ~Ch'i-chi

Dreaming of Saichi My Long-Deceased Disciple

                                             I met you again after more than twenty years,
                                             On a rickety bridge, beneath the hazy moon, in the spring wind.
                                             We walked on and on, arm in arm, talking and talking,
                                             Until suddenly we were in front of Hachiman Shrine!

                                                                                                                               ~Ryokan

A Poem

I honor those who try
to rid themselves of any lying,
who empty the self
and have only clear being there.

                                     ~Rumi

Chickpea to Cook

A chickpea leaps almost over the rim of the pot
where it's being boiled.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

The cook knocks him down with the ladle.

"Don't you try to jump out.
You think I'm torturing you.
I'm giving you flavor,
so you can mix with spices and rice
and be the lovely vitality of a human being.

Remember when you drank rain in the garden.
That was for this"

Grace first. Sexual pleasure,
then a boiling new life begins,
and the Friend has something good to eat.

Eventually chickpea
will say to the cook,
                                   "Boil me some more.
Hit me with the skimming spoon.
I can't do this by myself.

I'm like an elephant that dreams of gardens
back in Hindustan and doesn't pay attention
to his driver. You're my cook, my driver,
my way into existence. I love your cooking."

The cook says,
                          "I was once like you,
fresh from the ground. Then I boiled in time,
and boiled in the body, two fierce boilings.

My animal soul grew powerful.
I controlled it with practices,
and boiled some more, and boiled
once beyond that,
                              and became your teacher."

                                                                         ~Rumi

Thunderstruck

But all my foes will cease to be,
And all my friends will cease to be,
And I will also cease to be,
And likewise everything will cease to be.

All that I possess and use
Is like the fleeting vision of a dream.
It fades into the realms of memory,
And fading, will be seen no more.

                                   ~Shantideva, in The Way of the Bodhisattva

Dewdrops on a Lotus Leaf

What is this life of mine?
Rambling on, I entrust myself to fate.
Sometimes laughter, sometimes tears.
Neither a layman nor a monk.
An early spring rain drizzles on and on.
But the plum blossoms have yet to brighten things up.
All morning I sit by the hearth,
No one to talk to.
I search for my copybook
And then brush a few poems.

                                        ~Ryokan

To a Visitor

Listen to the cicadas in treetops near the waterfall;
See how last night's rains have washed away all grime.
Needless to say, my hut is as empty as can be,
But I can offer you a window full of the most intoxicating air.

                                                                                    ~Ryokan

This Old Man

Awakening at night and
poking embers from the ashes
this old man finds his company.

   ~Hojoki, by Kamo-no-Chomei