Gotama Got it Right

 
Gotama Got it Right
 
When you're filled with fear or want
Or raging for a fight,
Then pause to breathe, remembering
Gotama got it right.
 
Observe the fear or want or rage
And watch it rise and crest—
Then feel it ebb, like the lunar tide
That circles east to west.
 
The tide—it harks to the call of the moon,
But what propels a mood?
In quietude, the whisper’s heard—
Along with the urging rude.
 
The world “outside” and the thoughts “inside”—
They speak and are heard in turn—
And we respond—as the fire may dim
Or flame with the breeze and burn.
 
The body-mind, when so observed,
Is understood in time—
And its turbulence is slowly calmed
As things begin to rhyme.
 
So our actions flow from calm within—
And so enhance the peace.
The past and future cede to now.
We savor then some ease.
 
2022 August 26^th, Fri.
Berkeley, California
 

 

Sin

Sin

Lead us not into temptation
And deliver us from evil.
Amen.

We blame a class, a race or other group—
There are professions that are often blamed.
But it’s the nature of the human beast
That’s still the culprit for the mischief done.

For every virtue, every angel-trait,
We’ll find a vice, a sort of devil’s taint,
That mars the soul within a human or
Perhaps within all beings sentient.
 
If we had only virtues, then perhaps
We might be far too boring.  Light and shade
And vice and virtue, good and evil are,
Like yin and yang, in constant interplay.

So some might say that vice gives virtue place,
As hunger gives to plainest food its taste.
Without the sins that sinners multiply,
Could even saints be duly recognized?
 
And what, to me, is virtue could be seen
As vice to one whose values are reversed.
And yet, there still are basics that appear
To be the common ground on which we stand.

So save for prophetesses such as Ayn,
You’ll rarely find that people disagree
That selfish actions lead to evil ends,
While love and caring make for brighter lives.

For this, we might invoke a spirit that
Is root and essence of what’s seen as good,
And all that’s evil might be then ascribed
To visions clouded—or to a spirit dread.

But others might look back at what we were
When we were closer in our lives to apes
But rose and flourished from that sharing which
We still perceive as good—which touches hearts.

So "good", to them, is that which served us well
In eons past, when mind and body formed
To suit the circumstances then—for though
The times have changed, we still remain the same.

I will not enter into these debates.
I’ll only say that instincts old and deep
Respond to kindness—and that meanness brings
Yet other, meaner instincts into play.

To strive to be as supermen is fraught
With danger. We are always what we are.
We should be cognizant of what’s within
And seek a balance that sustains us all.

For when that balance is disturbed, we see
The sorrow that is not of earth or air
Or water, but is made by acts of men
And leads to yet more sorrows, turn on turn.

The earthquakes and the storms and floods may leave,
But fires rage and droughts and famines come.
Yet all of these, by men and all, are borne
With lesser pain than monstrous deeds of Man.

A fire may burn a forest down and yet
It leaves a part of it—and then with time
That forest lives again. What Man has touched
With devil's hands, no heaven can restore.

Be watchful then. Remove yourself from that
Which leads to conflicts with your inner god,
Who then is either silenced, leaving sin
To flourish, or cries out in pain within.

The ones, who cannot silence conscience, live
With ceaseless war within themselves, unless
They speak and act to change what often is
Impossible when others shrug and sin.
 
It wasn’t Adam or his partner, Eve,
Or a serpent leading both of them astray.
It’s we, who look to God to salve our sins,
Forgetting god and devil are within.

We lose our way and cannot find the path.
We lose our reason and we close our hearts.
It later seems that we were not awake
And so committed acts we shouldn't have.

The heart expands with kindness and with love,
Which spread like blessings when they’re acted on.
The heart contracts with meanness and with hate
And all our words and deeds of violence.

It’s difficult, within the fire, to be
As cool of temper as we’d like to be.
It’s hard, when we are stressed and desperate,
To be as kind and patient as we should.

So what are we to do?  Perhaps it’s best
To move away from all that meanness breeds—
To distance selves from where it’s fear and greed
That drive the engines of economies.

Although that’s easier said than done, to see
The source of evil, of disturbance, is
To step away from it, towards that calm
That gives us time and space to see and love.

We come like water and like wind we go.
So said Khayyam, Fitzgerald’s paraphrase
Purports.  If we should pray, perhaps we need
To ask for courage and for innocence.

So let us then release the things, to which
We hold, that rob us of our clarity.
That freedom might be difficult to reach,
Until we see we’re sullied by our vice.

There’s anger, greed and hate and jealousy.
And each of these, and even pride, has place
Within the workings of the mind that lives,
But each of these can lead us into sin.

For sin is not the thought that comes and goes
Or even stays awhile.  For thoughts may rise
And feelings too.  It’s when they’re nurtured and
They’re acted on that sin is birthed and born.

So let us heed what Buddhas past have said
To free ourselves of what some others call
The burden that we carry of our sins.
Let’s set it down and go upon our way.

We recognize a thought, a feeling and
We see, perhaps, its provenance as well.
We watch its rise and then we watch its ebb.
We do not ask that it should go or dwell.

We do not fear the feeling that we have,
And even fear, we know, has time and place.
We come like water, and we go like wind.
Forgive us, for we know that we have sinned.

And knowing this, we then might lose, perhaps,
Our hubris and might also find the strength
To heal from wounds that others might inflict,
Forgiving them, in our humility.

Lead us not into temptation
And deliver us from evil.
Amen.

2015 September 3rd, Thu., 2:30 am
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
  

Maya – Illusion and Attachment

 
Maya – Illusion and Attachment
 
When praise comes by, then know that scorn is next.
When scorn arrives, do not, by that, be vexed.
As winds may blow from east and then from west,
So also, chasing worst, there comes the best.
 
But you could quibble, “No, it isn’t so.
Of woe and sorrow, I have more and more.”
You might be right.  The winds that blow, of chance,
Bring clouds and sun, within the cosmic dance.
 
And those, who’re lucky, they may bask in sun
For quite awhile, with share and more of fun,
While others may be drenched, through years and years,
And shiver as they shed, forlorn, their tears.
 
The Stoics, Buddhists, Jains, they all agree –
From woe undue, by this, we could be free –
On circumstance, put no or little weight –
Let praises go – and scorn, as so much freight.

It’s easier said than done, as all may know.
How many mortals, such forbearance show,
Both outwardly and also deep within,
When beaten down with woe and human sin?
 
How many more have puffed themselves with pride
And on achievements or on praises ride...
And when their small balloons, perchance, are burst,
How much, for what they’ve lost, they strive and thirst…
 
“Observe,” it’s said, “the world – without, within.
Observe the pleasure and the pain you’re in.
See fear arise – and anger, greed and lust,
And see these then subside, as all things must.
 
“Observe the breath, and let it gently flow.
As you exhale, so let your worries go –
Your fears and cravings are like ripples.  They
Will dance across the pond and fade away.”
 
And all of this is well and good.  And yet,
When caught in tempests strong – or in the net,
We struggle, struggle, even when we’re free,
For on this freedom we might not agree.
  
We cling to pleasure and we cling to pain.
And from this clinging, these arise again.
We crave the pleasure but we fear its loss.
We fear the pain – and in our angst, we toss.
 
The ones we love – and all we might have built,
We’ll leave them all – with peace of mind or guilt.
And some may leave before or after.  Naught
Remains – and yet we're still, in dreamings, caught.
 
There’s woe of circumstance and then there’s woe
That we create or worsen.  “Let that go.”
Is what the seers, in their wisdom, said.
Enough!  Let’s practice, now, the things we've read.
 
For one could write and write, and one could read –
But mount again upon the usual steed.
To practice what I teach, I now should knuckle
Down to do, and at my preaching chuckle.
 
Upon our mortal paths, we each must go,
But none of us is here alone in woe.
Compassion is a thing that all might feel –
But truly learn, when caught beneath the wheel.
 
2014  November 29th, Sat.
Brooklyn, New York
   

Karma – Part I

   
Karma – Part I 
 
 

A bullet, fired in haste towards the sky,
might well descend and hit one in the eye –
but rarely will it land upon the one
who shot it upwards, glorying in his gun.
 
So also, acts we do in carelessness
might well create, around us, much distress,
yet leave us free, as if our lives were charmed.
We seldom feel the pain of those we’ve harmed.
 
For rarely do we get to realize
our actions weren’t only most unwise,
but even though we never gave them mind,
to others, what we did was most unkind.
 
What’s done, has consequence that may
be naught to us, until it’s worked its way
around our world and then returns to us.
Till then, we shrug and wonder at the fuss.
 
For karma isn’t what it’s said to be.
It often leaves the perpetrators free –
and even their descendants prosper, while
the line of victims stretches, mile on mile…
 
The world’s divided into those who rule
and those who’re ruled, and though we sometimes fool
ourselves and think that justice will be served,
the villains rarely get what they deserved.
 
So some imagine there’s a future hell
or heaven – and this dream of justice sell.
But though this breaks a true believer’s heart,
They nowhere go, who’re born and then depart.
 
So follow dharma now.  Let conscience speak.
And if you can, defend the ones who’re meek.
Be cognizant of thought, of speech and deed.
For once you’re gone, you will be dead indeed.
 
But you can leave behind a wake of pain
or one that blesses, time and time again.
Go gently on your path upon this world,
in which we each, by randomness, are hurled.
 
There’s woe enough upon this planet blue,
on which we journey, all of us.  And you
and I can choose to add to this yet more –
or leave some space, where there was naught before.
 
So leave aside ambition.  Wealth and power
and all that’s done to gain these, hour by hour,
deprive of joy – and even rob of breath –
the ones who’re used – the ones the lords forget.
 
Pursue your dreams, but not the one for fame.
Let only those you loved recall your name
when you’ve departed.  Quietly live and go,
content that you could be, not wanting more…
 
2014 November 22nd, Sat.
Brooklyn, New York

Karma--Part II 
     
For a prose preface to Karma--Part II, please see Thanksgiving Thoughts -- On Turkeys, Teachers, Soldiers and Conscience.
     

Reflections on Dukkha

   
Reflections on Dukkha
 

Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. with Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese monk, 1960's
image source: http://easyyolk.blogspot.com/2011/07/living-buddha-living-christ.html

 
We see, around us, things that make us sad
and angry, while there’s little we can do –
injustice, needless pain and suffering –
and we ourselves may be affected too.

And seeing this, some sink in dark despair,
or simply shrug and go about their life.
There’s only so much we can fix, repair –
or vainly seek to stem the tides of strife.
 
And some of us might see and yet not see –
or turn away from what discomforts them.
And others might find refuge in their gods –
or take recourse to lie or stratagem.

Philosophies exist, in ancient lands,
and even newer ones, that seem to help.
“It’s fortune, karma.” or “That’s how it is.”
Acceptance helps the sad, beleaguered self.

And some would say, "There's night that follows day.
There's hunger and there's satisfaction, and
without the first, would food retain its taste?"
We suffer – and we start to understand...

And others yet may speak or write – and some
may even act – in ways they think are best
or can imagine and achieve – and then
may fail or may succeed upon their quest.

And some see villains, whom they seek to crush,
and others relish being rescuers.
But few are they, who try to understand
the causes and connections, seeking cures.
 
For much of what we see, the sorrow spread
by actions, words and thoughts compulsive, are
pathologies that stem from ignorance –
or vision clouded by the smoke of war.

Gotama woke from this, our lifelong sleep,
and saw our sorrow and the root of it.
And so he bid us to awake and watch
the fog arise and leave – dissolving it.

But who can do it?  We are trapped by self
and all that’s built around to cage us in.
So passions rule, or calculations cold,
and newest sin is heaped on older sin.
 
But if we are aware, that all is not
as we imagine it – and that there’s light
within the deepest darkness, then we’ll pause –
and in that pausing, find the gift of sight.

“The other cheek” is what the gospel says
we should be turning to the ones who strike.
Yet who can do this, who is not a saint,
when death and utter devastation strike?

Of all that is compulsive, be aware.
Amidst the madness and the rushing, pause.
Release the breath and feel again the heart.
Let kindness be, without a need for cause.
   
2014 August 26th, Tue & 27th, Wed.
Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York
   

Words

     
Words
  
The Buddhists say that neither praise nor scorn
Should lift or sink the ships that we are on.
But just as sailors yearn for sailing winds
And fear the lulls and storms, we're tossed by words.

But when we think – that what we were before
Those words, we still remain – no less, no more,
We then can take the measure of the words
And use them or discard them, centered, strong.

******
 
But sticks and stones may break our bones –
And hard it is to heal them.
As sorrows such afflict our lives,
Should words and thoughts be burdens?

Yet words may wound and thoughts may plague
If these become possessions.
We breathe and watch our thoughts and so
We shed our dark obsessions.

2014 June 22nd Sun
(last stanza added 23rd Mon)
Brooklyn, New York