Too Many Mistakes (A Poem)

Well, i was laying on my side, melting into the mattress,

liquid layers of vibrations, carrying me away.

i was listening to my aura, as subatomic

particles in mid flight; like a helicopter above and

around my head. i felt the energy created through a lifetime

my heart beats like a time bomb, everything whirring

into a directionless direction.

I could feel the anger and resentment

built up in adolescence, aimed at the world

-which didn’t care either way.

I could feel the weight of the damage done over the years

trying to punish this body

that caused so much pain

-and it turns out this body doesn’t care either.

corroded stomach lining,

eaten away by battery acid.

weakened bladder, what does it matter?

if i’d had the resolve

and the right concentration

i could’ve continued my transcendence

back into the subatomic Original vibrations

but i was distracted,

again,

by the fear of having made

too many irreversible mistakes.

Seriously, Again? (A Haibun)

How many times have i been a changed man

apparently   transformative forces are weaker than habitual ones

because everytime i think i’ve freed my  mind i keep going back to the way it was gradually usually, which is what makes it so hard to see

i start with this amazing energy and slowly i get the better of me

i once heard a paraphrase of a quote that went something like; if a bird thought the sky ended   he would stop flying. if a fish thought the sea stopped, he would swim no further

expanding your mind goes further than acquiring knowledge it’s having the faith that consciousness is limitless

it’s then that i notice that i haven’t noticed my feet hitting the ground

i’m walking   going through the motions completely unaware

how do you get in touch with that?

so as i stop to focus my attention on the inattention:

 

Above nighttime clouds a jetliner

Thunders

 

tireless, a finch chatters.

 

i laugh as i pass, there i go taking myself seriously again.

 


 

dog walking 

The Net

Consciousness is like a net; it can either catch you, or trap you.

We are here to discern change and differences. Which we do well, sometimes too well.

Am I comfortable right now? Does this benefit me? Is this what I want?

I’ve been here before.

I need to name this feeling.

Perhaps it’s not any one feeling, it’s a thousand things tied into one knot.

Intent on tension; intension

dis-ease; unable to be at ease; disease.

I’m trapped

Within a web of consciousness

The more I try to explain, the more I try to be understood, the more I wriggle, the tighter the bind

Let me explain;

Consciousness is a net

Like a murder of crows

Undulating caws, in unison,

What one crow sees, and knows,

The whole knows and sees.

 

Buddhadoshā

Have you ever had a word, perhaps foreign, perhaps just some gibberish made up in your head, come to mind? Has that ever happened? because it happened to me recently. The word? Doshā, sometimes Dosā, apparently in Japanese, dôsha. A word I’m pretty sure I’ve never heard before, and though it’s entirely possible, even probable that I read it somewhere and stored it away in the ol’ subconscious, still it feels surreal, meaningful, even spiritual. So a quick Google search to find its meaning, because for it to have any connection, any real meaning it has to be defined. Buddhadôsha, not sure why but, no results on Google. I figured well dôsha is the actual word, so what, if anything, does dôsha mean? Is it even a word or a complete fiction?

Dosha, in sanskrit, according to Google, literally translates as fault/disease. Since this unknown word with unknown origin appeared in my mind, it must clearly mean something in particular about me, thus the reason for trying to ascribe meaning to it, so I can also ascribe meaning to myself. And to think the word that represents me means Afflicted. That won’t do. Though it does sort of ring true to some extent and, well has sort of defined the way I’ve thought about myself for a while, but still not the meaning I was hoping for.

I also saw a lot of Japanese results come up, apparently the Japanese word means earth, sediment, sand. There’s even a kanji to go with it, I could be one of those people that get the tattoo! (Tongue firmly in cheek) Anyway, I like that result better. The ground, the base, the support. Different throughout the world’s regions, though always the same, always providing, sustaining. Like the earth’s people in a way.

After some further research I came to find the Wikipedia for dosha. Apparently there are three doshas that are the base for a person’s body and are the makeup for the physiological functions. So again the ideas of base, support, and sustaining qualities come up (although these doshas seem to have a negative connotation, perhaps someone who knows better can help me out here.) Further research thanks to this site which was awesome and extremely helpful, found that within Buddhism dosha is the pali word for aversion; or anger, within the three poisions  of the mind.

Now things seem to be getting more personal. I have struggled with anger in particular for a long time. Only recently have I become strong enough to try to do something about it.

Dosa has destructive nature. It is very ugly. It hurts anyone anything. Dosa destroys its home and its environment. In the presence of dosa everything wicked and unhumanly things can be committed.

Dosa is aggressive, just like a snake which has been hit. The function of dosa is spreading of itself or writhing as
when poison takes effect. Dosa is harmful for mind and body. Because of dosa our appearance becomes ugly: we may become red in the face, our features become unpleasant and the comers of our mouth droop.

Dosa can also appear as fear. When there is fear one dislikes the object which is experienced. Fear is harmful for mind and body.

-from the above mentioned site

As you learn in Buddhism there is no fight, no good vs. evil, because within one thing there is everything else; enlightenment lies within your afflictions; on one side is hatred or anger on the other side of that hatred or anger is transformed into love, and compassion. So our afflictions are not something to run away from, or to do battle with, or to be shoved away and forgotten about. This is in a lot of respects a goal for me, I have, I believe, a high capacity for love and compassion, because of my struggles with anger. I see anger in a different way, I see the way I transmit it to my wife and kids, I see the way others use anger, I hear the news that is fueled with anger, and I want for nothing more than to be a support, a base, a sustaining soil for the qualities of love and compassion.

So welcome to the world Buddhadoshā. Buddha, because it is the source, the source of all the psychology, philosophy, and spirituality that wisdom springs from. And doshā because it, apparently, has some meaning to me.

Mirroring

Here on earth

we’re spinning ’round

mirrored reflections

Oh whoa ho

sometimes I catch myself

and everything goes streaming

by this is where I see

I’m a part of it.

Touching that

which can’t be touched

I’m touched.

We’re spinning ’round

heart reverberates

into the endless mirror chasm

Oh whoa ho-o

Filtering

down

back into myself

to continue

the mirroring of images.

Stuck on a loop

it keeps repeating

spinning ’round

when I stop

it’s then I hear the sound.

Can’t stop me now.

Oh whoa-oh ho

Can you feel the flow?

it brings you closer

to the hole

inside the mirror.

Breathe

Breathing in
crags of coral
lungs expanding,
slowly, slowly,
the diaphragm contracts and pushes,
room for further expansion. weightless.
breathing out

feathers
the entire world melts away into pleasant joy.
the belly, like a tide
lapping on the shore
if we can be aware of our insides
what else can we be aware of?

slowly, slowly,

loosen the grip. is there a beginning?
where does it begin?

expelling breath
i try to draw the line
between out and in,
but if i were wise,
i’d realize
that there is no difference.

once you start to breath out, you’ve already started to breath in.

who am i?

loosen the grip
no one here controlling
it just flows like a river, it watches.
what makes me so special?

why is it
that i look for
a single narrative to make the difference,
as if that narrative doesn’t hold all others.

in a single moment of expansion,
the whole universe breathes in.
an explosion of conditions
everything
happening all
at once
a flowers bloom
is made possible by the death
of last seasons fruit.
what kind of flower did you just picture?

the earth opens
there is no one experiencing
and nothing to
experience,

the perceiver,
the perceived
wholeness.

expand, contract.
the universe opens up,

there is no heroes journey,
no beginning
middle,
and end
it’s all here in this moment
all of history
the future
all right now.

i breathe and the universe breathes with me
no lines
no distinctions,
not right now anyway
we manifest new each moment and everything and everyone in history
is with us, again and again

and again and

again and again