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

Craving

Awaken!

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.

http://www.accesstoinsight.org/lib/authors/nanamoli/PathofPurification2011.pdf

The Song of Dissolution

This is a song inspired by the melody of ‘Fukaki Umi No Kanata’ (Beyond the Deep Sea) by Yoshida Brothers. Feel free to read this song while listening to the melody or sing it… Hope this song inspires you to travel into the depths of your heart. Bon Voyage! All the best for your own internal searching.

 

Many seas I’ve crossed

Many ports I’ve reached

In my little

Imperfect boat

Of body and mind

Guided by the light of Heart

 

Oh a storm is coming

All is about to overturn

Perhaps I will finally realize that

 

From the sea

I rise

Into the sea

I fall

Like a little wave

In it dissolved

 

There is nowhere to go

For all is the Sea

Just let it Be

 

Wherever the currents lead me

I’ll go

Wherever the fishes call me

I’ll be

Back to the shore

I’ll return

Wave after wave

 

Oh the world is big

Yet so small

Oh time flows fast

Yet so slow

So I sing this song

 

From the sea

I rise

Into the sea

I fall

Like a little wave

In it dissolved

 

Sometimes my ego builds

My mind wanders

And I ask myself

Where shall I go next?

Is it New York, Lisbon or Rio?

Is it Gantou1, Paris or Tokyo?

Then I realize Being

And ego dissolves in itself

 

No more searching for the Sea

For I am already part of It

No ‘I’ to feed

No ‘mind’ to free

No fear

No worries

No attachments

No space

No time

Nothing at All

Yet Everything at the same time

So I sing this song

 

From the sea

I rise

Into the sea

I fall

Like a little wave

In it dissolved

 

Like a little wave

In it dissolved

 

Like a little wave

In it dissolved

 

  1. Gantou is my ancestral village (now a small town) in China where my grandparents and some relatives live. It is located on the margins of the Ou River, in the southeast part of the Zhejiang Province.

How Can I Not?

Time has passed by

Like a gust of wind

A bird gets ready to fly

Oh so hard it is

To say goodbye

 

Oh attachments

To home and not-home

 

Is it still home?

Where the heart still longs

For something

Timeless

Long gone

Truth?

 

It might be

That this precious Truth

Is right here

Next to me

How painful it is

That I can’t see?

 

Some people

Call it Love

But I can’t feel it

Perhaps a little sprout

Deeply planted

In layers and layers

Of illusive existence

 

How can I accept an illusory role

Prescribed by a system

Engineered to keep me

A passive victim

That blindly and silently

Follows

What others are expecting

‘Me’

To do?

 

What is ‘Me’?

I am my mother

My father

Brothers and sisters

Ancestors

Creators of my kinship

I am more than my blood

I am the tree that I used to love

I am the river that I used to swim

I am the clouds that I used to dream

I am earth mother desperately crying for help

I am heavenly father who gave me a soul and guides me with Love

 

How can I accept

Seeing ‘me’

All my loved ones

Trapped in illusion

Delusion

Karmic sea of Suffering?

 

How can I not

Attempt to find a way out?

 

How can I not?

Build a boat

Search and wander in the sea

To finally find a ferryman

Who agrees

To take me to the other shore

 

Oh that sweet home

Where the heart longs no more

Where home is here

There

Everywhere

Nowhere

At the same time

 

If I do reach my destination

You will see

That you are ‘me’

Simply Free

 

You will realize

That indeed

You have agency

To build your own boat

Search and wander

Meet your ferryman

And see ‘me’

On the other shore

 

True Home this is

Where the heart longs no more.

 

Nameless Freedom

Nameless freedom

Is what I search

Nameless freedom

Is what I long

 

Five elements dance within

Fire burns strong

Water flows clean

Wood grows long

Metal refines pure

All ready to endure

Explosive chaos

To eternal Harmony

 

By the clear lake of mind

The lotus heart tingles

Ready to blossom

And spread Love into the world

 

By the clear lake of mind

The dragonfly flies

In circles

Teaching the impermanence of life

 

By the clear lake of mind

The fisherman knits his net of interdependence

Ready to catch

The erroneous fish of isolated existence

 

By the clear lake of mind

The woodcutter sharpens his axe of wisdom

Ready to chop down

The vine-tree of ignorance

 

By the clear lake of mind

The yogi meditates

Ready to battle his ego

To finally realize Shunyata

 

By the clear lake of mind

A bird is perched

On the tree of illusory existence

Singing

 

Nameless freedom

Is what I search

Nameless freedom

Is what I long

 

Sing with me

My friend

Only together

Freedom shall be found

The Cuckoo Sings

The cuckoo sings

Good news it brings

To my small cage

Of worldly things.

 

Please teach me

And set me free

My cuckoo friend

 

In an old cage I am,

Dirty cage

Worldly cage

Of birth, old age and death.

 

Please teach me

And set me free

My cuckoo friend

 

I wished that all birds like me

Could all be free

So I left your side

To help them break free

But nobody listened to me

Everyone is too busy

With worldly business

And since I am weak in the Dharma

Stuck in the cage I became

Suffering I am

 

Please teach me

And set me free

My cuckoo friend

 

Now I learned

That I can’t teach

Liberate anyone.

It’s all a construction of the ego.

It’s all about self-liberation

 

Whoever is tired of the saltiness of the Ocean of suffering

Will search for the purity of the sweet River

 

May all beings one day break free from this salty Ocean

May they find the source of the River of Life!

 

It’s time to emerge from the Ocean

Climb up the Mountain of Truth

And find the Source!

 

Please guide me

Dear cuckoo friend.

Quando cantas, pequeno pássaro? (When will you sing, little bird?)

Em Março toda a acção se junta

Na Primavera o tempo pergunta

Quando cantas, pequeno pássaro Buddha?

 

O Inverno tem sido muito frio

A tua voz o mundo necessita

Agora só se escuta

O rugido do vento da Morte

Que ceifa vidas

Dos fracos e dos fortes

Pessoas que ainda não ouviram a tua doce voz do Dharma.

 

Ouve-se o assobio das bombas que caem

Os gritos da Terra violada

O disparo dos tiros que cortam o choro das crianças inocentes

Rasgando os coracões dos seus parentes

Como se vive sem coração?

 

Quão grande será o sofrimento destes pais culpados?

Que vivem mais tempo que os seus pequenos

Como se libertarão das cicatrizes de uma esterilização forçada?

Como se liberatarão da raiva?

Da vontade de retribuição

De mais e mais sofrimento no ciclo da existência

Como se libertarão?

 

Só a tua doce voz do Dharma…

Só a tua doce voz do Dharma…

 

Em Março toda a acção se junta

Na Primavera o tempo pergunta

Quando cantas, pequeno pássaro Buddha?

 

Dharma como fruta se madura

Para chegar a Primavera

Três estações se espera

Para o brilho da Lua Cheia

Três fases se transforma

Para o caminho a Deus começar

Sete pecados mortais se expia

Para o Buddha em si acordar

As quatro Nobres Verdades se internaliza

Para a Lótus de Oito Pétalas se abrir

O Caminho Óctuplo se pratica

 

Lá dentro

O pequeno pássaro Buddha espera…

 

Em Março toda a acção se junta

Na Primavera o tempo pergunta

Quando cantas, pequeno pássaro Buddha?

 

Em Março

Primavera chega

Dharma madura

Lua Cheia brilha

O caminho a Deus começa

Buddha acorda

A Lótus de Oito Pétalas abre

E o pequeno pássaro Buddha canta!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reflections On A Train

Life is like sitting on a train backwards facing

Not knowing when we will reach our destination,

Death.

The final destination.

After sometime the train resumes its journey back to its departing station.

Back and forth it goes.

Carrying an uncertain number of passengers,

All from different backgrounds:

Rich, poor, young, old, students, teachers, buyers, sellers…

 

On a bench sat a man,

Dressed in a shirt and pants like a middle class worker.

He took out a chopping board,

He must be a chef and he is trying to save time by chopping things here in the train,

Thought the mind,

And the man started chopping onions and boiled potatoes,

How fast and skilled he chopped

Finely dressed and finely chopped

What a skill!

Had a concentrated look in his eyes

Some contentment in his heart

Yet sometimes his mind wandered off

Should I be doing something else?

But chopping he continued

Is he going to take these vegetables home and cook?

Soon he finished his skillful job.

 

What is this man doing?

And he pulled out his muri (puffed rice) snack kit,

Dangerous kit this was,

A big metal box with lots of muri,

And different small containers of spices and condiments like

Boiled chickpeas, coconut strips and bujia (crispy fried snack with masala)

Everything danced around like it was Holi—the festival of colors

Customers saw this,

Desire arose,

And the maestro started his symphony,

His little spoon worked like a baton stick

Conducting a synaesthetic symphony of

Sounds, colors, smells, flavors and textures.

What a masterpiece!

He was not just a muri wallah (person associated with a specific job or service)

As many people would think.

He was a man selling completeness in life

(Althought he had his short mind wanderings and doubts with it,)

He was able to experience the ecstatic joy of concentration and sense of purpose in life.

He was a teacher,

Spreading the message that

No job is too small and no job is too big.

As long as you are mindful while performing it and pour Love into it,

Doing it as selfless service to others,

You become closer to God and to find fullness in life.

Just like a farmer who plows and works on his field,

You will soon reap the benefits from it.

Let Love spring forth from your Heart when you perform your job

Or else go find a new one that allows you to do so.

Life is short

Like a play

You find your role and perform it.

In the end,

All there is or isn’t

It’s just a child’s play…