Reflections on dying

I am dying

Every word I write

I am dying

Every breath I take

I am dying

I am dying right now dear


A ‘natural’ death

Some say

Hair falling

Teeth falling

Skin falling

Others say

Particles coming and going

At infinite speed

Is time real?

If linear time

Is the mind’s construction

Then at this moment

I am dying and dead

I exist and don’t exist

I am form and Emptiness


Returning to linear


I have to say

That I am at that critical point

I’m dying

But not dead yet

I’m climbing the mountain

But not there yet

I’m flying home

But haven’t reached yet

Will I die, trying?

Will Yama’s (Lord of Death) messengers

Come get me soon?

I’ll never know

The only thing I am sure is

I am doomed to Death

But I won’t die without a good fight

No I won’t

I’ll fight for my beloved sisters and brothers


I’m going to kick and punch

The dirty guts of this System

Rooted in my Mind

Where the Oppressor stands waiting

To meet me face-to-face

I know I’m close

I’m almost there

I know, I know

My Heart tells me so


Mara’s Hooks

Mara, the Tempter

Plays with hooks



The unmindful traveler on the Path

So many hooks

Leading to Hell

Or rebirth in the lower realms

Human form is indeed

Hard to attain

So why waste it?

As guru Shantideva said

Like a herd of buffalos

Humans are snatched

One by one by the Butcher

But we are too stupid to notice it

We are too busy eating, sleeping, fornicating,

And searching for the ‘happily ever after ending’


Life ends in Death

And It lurks everywhere

In every second of this earthly realm

Mara throws hooks

Hooking up

Then hooked on

Unmindful souls incessantly suffer

Like fishes

Humans get baited

Then full of craving

Take a bite

To become hooked

And slowly dragged away

At first the fish

Tries to shake itself off

Flopping and flopping

Yet its mouth is still hooked on the bait

Full of agony

The fish finally realizes

Its doomed fate

Held by its tail

Banged in its head

Scales scraped

Belly cut open

Entrails taken out

Head chopped

Body chopped

Thrown into the fiery Hell

Fried, grilled, boiled or baked

So much suffering

Some fish are lucky

Somehow they manage to escape

As if by divine intervention

And learn their lesson

Not to crave

Others not so

And end up eaten, digested,

And released back to the Earth

In land or ocean

One thing has become certain

Life breathes impermanence

As long as one is mindful of breathing

One becomes mindful of impermanence

Thus becoming mindful of Buddha’s Path to transcend it

With virtue, mindfulness and understanding

The traveler can keep away from Mara’s hooks

And continue steadfast in his path

Step by step! Onward!

May all Buddhas and Bodhisattvas bless our eyes

To catch Mara’s deadly hooks!

(I take not ownership of this image Sharing from Blessings to this blog)
(I take not ownership of this image Sharing from Blessings to this blog)

Death of a writer

Oh writer

Why don’t you die?

Your imperfect words

Symbolizing sounds symbolizing experiences

Can’t touch me

Plain characters

Boring dialogue

Used up plots

Silenced voice

Dull settings

Makes me want to vomit

All the words you are trying to force-feed me

Why don’t you die?

You would save me lots of time

Lots of trouble

Lots of pens

Lots of ink

Lots of hard generated electricity

Running in your energy sucking computer

Stop wasting your time

And Mine

Why don’t you die?

Your mountain high ego

Annoys me

I can’t take it anymore

I’m going to blast you into little little pieces

The Earth is going to shake

Are you ready to die?


Oh stupid writer

Nothing you write is yours

No, your writing is NOT yours

The topics you write about

Are not yours but gifts from the people you’ve met

Places you’ve been

Things you’ve read or seen

Your imagination which is not yours only mixes them up

Creating mutant like monsters

Nothing is yours, writer

Your hands that write are not yours

Your body that sits crouched writing is not yours

Your mind that thinks and thinks is not yours

Your consciousness that is conscious of itself is not yours


You are the product and its creator

You are the world stupid

You are your parents and grandparents who brought you up

You are the Buddhas and the Bodhisattvas who taught you the Dharma

You are the Earth in which you were born, the mountains, the rivers, the trees and all its sentient beings

You are all your loved ones

You are all those who have made you suffer

You are the stream of manifestations of divine Love

Was I able to kill you?

No? What?

Die writer, die!

Truth is that only by dying you become Alive

So fear not and Die

Let go of your shitty writing

And Die for your own personal Salvation

Just let yourself go and d..

Song of Exit

Oh little bird

Why do you search?

Can’t you see?

You are free

Fear not

Nothing external can cage you

No body

No place

No space

Small enough can cage you

No house

With its walls and windows

Can cage you

All disintegrates upon to its conditions

Little bird

Your Golden Cage

Is within

Your house walls seem thicker and thicker

Because you are more and more imbedded into

Your sense-desires



Lord Buddha once exclaimed

“Oh house-builder! You are seen, you shall build no house again!”

Thus cultivate, little bird, cultivate

Take upon the path the Elders have set you

And slowly untie the knots

That bind you to suffering

Oh little bird

Why do you search?

Can’t you see?

You are free

ps. Here is a free resource for Buddhist practitioners. I thought all precious, free things should be shared, here it is. Credits go to my teacher who introduced me to this book.