I, Blind

I, blind

Tell myself

How can the blind lead the blind

Being blinded

Banished from light

Yet able to hear the cries of suffering

How can I blind lead the blind?

I tell myself

Suffering in darkness

Conscious of my blindness

I search for any source of Light

Within that shall light its way

Towards Seeing

Truth as it is

One day I shall see the Light

I tell myself

Either this or next lifetime

One day

I shall see the Light

Or die in darkness trying…


Taking Refuge

My mind searches and searches

… as I try to find words

For my incessant search

What words to use?

River flow flowing chasing pleasure satisfaction fame respect identity bonds culture meaning life intimacy beer food consumption happiness the mind never stops chasing

Until I hit a dot


Small, simple yet beyond powerful

Like a massive cliff



Stares me right in the face

At this point in time

I lay in bed

Old age or not


Unable to move

Perhaps I am alone

Perhaps my family and friends are with me

Yet what can they do?

Sooner or later they will be snatched too

So they sit immobile and agonized

Watching me

Fearful for their own inevitable Fate

In whom do I take refuge?






A beautiful partner?



Will the memories of a life I once had keep me happy?

Will I be ready to face Death?


Memories are ephemeral moments long gone

And I am about to go too

When I see those shadows sneaking up to me


In whom do I take refuge?

In agony I scream to myself

In whom do I take refuge?

In whom do I take refuge?


Crying tears and snot

A sweet voice reminds me

Of the teachings

Expounded by the messengers of the Creator

All Paths lead to the One destination


I take refuge in the teachings of Love and Compassion

In the Buddha, the Dharma and the Sangha


I throw myself upon the cliff


Finally Free

The Waterfall opens

The River of Life flows within as I write this sentence

Flowing free freedom wind caressing a birds feathers chasing fish gliding in rhythmic waves splashing into the golden sand crabs dance the dance of mating fisherman picking crabs taking home cooking a warm delicious crab soup for his beloved partner and children enjoying meal together going to the market selling crabs to roaming people shoppers from all classes and social statuses they go home cook eat fresh crab dishes enjoy life as the river flows people flow towards the cliff and .


Should I Stop?

No the energy continues never dies only transforms itself returning to mother earth memories temporarily erased rebirth following its causes and conditions karma life continues suffering taking the path until its ultimate liberation


I just came here to Smile

As I walked along a covered pathway towards COP 21’s “Les Spaces Générations Climat” (the visitor’s section for 2015 Paris climate negotiations), I stumbled upon a thin, middle-aged French man. He is about 1.75m tall, light brown hair and with a young gentle face. He greeted me with a gentle smile and said “Hello.” “Hello,” I replied. I extended him my hand, introduced myself and added a “nice to meet you.” “François,” he told me his name. “Where are you from?,” he asked. “Lisbon, you?”“I’m from Auvergne, central France. Why are you here at COP21?,” he kindly inquired. “I’m a writer and photographer and decided to come check out COP21. How about you?”

“I just came here to Smile.”

Stupefied, I paused for a few seconds.

My recently self-constructed ego as a writer and photographer was pierced and shattered into little, little pieces. Before I set out for Paris, I had convinced myself that I was going to become a writer and photographer. Yes this was my new identity – covered with layers and layers of illusions and delusions.

I was cleansed by this humble man.

I was humbled by this humble man.

My heart was pierced by this humble man.

As I tried gathering myself together, I replied, “That’s beautiful.”

As we continued walking the long pathway, he voiced out “Mother Earth is very happy that people are all gathering here looking for solutions.” My mind was still trying to resist, who is this guy? Is he crazy?

We entered the main gate and walked towards the security check area. I looked at him and noticed that he had come to this event barefoot. Past memories of India flashed in my mind, images of barefoot pilgrims heading to places of worship.

After seeing me noticing him being barefoot, he said “We humans have created such a hard environment for ourselves. Look at this floor, it’s so hard and uncomfortable. We can feel it when we are barefoot. When we walk the Earth’s soil, it’s so soft and welcoming.”

I nodded my head in agreement and smiled.

He walked in front of me towards the security checkpoint. I humbly followed behind him. As he passed through the security, I noticed him slowly strolling away. We didn’t even say bye to each other, I thought to myself. I notice the message at the back of his sweat-shirt. It says, “Je suis chez moi. Je suis arrivé.” Through my limited skills in French, I translated to myself, “I am at home. I have arrived.”

I finally Smile. Yes I hope that one day I will join you my friend…



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 http://jbertetta.blogspot.pt. Blessings to this blog)
(I take not ownership of this image Sharing from http://jbertetta.blogspot.pt. Blessings to this blog)

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.


Mind Laundry

Wash-Clothes-without-a-Washing-Machine-Step-8 Wikihow
Photo: Wash Clothes Without a Washing Machine Step 8, from Wikihow

I used to dislike doing laundry

Just had to put what’s ‘dirty’

Into the machine

And like magic

It would become sort of ‘clean’


Yet I felt too lazy

In my energy-saving world

My time was too important

To be spent doing laundry

I had better and bigger things to do

I had to find a way ‘to save the world’

So day-by-day the dirty clothes piled up

Soon it started to stink

And it reached the day

When I had no more clean clothes to wear


What to do?

I sat and reflected

I took a day off

Maybe two

I pushed through

And cleaned this mountain like pile of laundry


It took time

So exhausting yet rewarding

Then I decided to

Stop falling prey

To this consumerist machine

I decided to escape

To a place

Where I can wash my clothes

By hand…

Plus a bucket and a scruber


Now I don’t need a machine

To do my laundry

No pre-set programs

Just hands and a process

Weaving art and creativity

As long as it leaves the clothes clean


Wash, wash, clean

I tell myself

Sometimes I sing

Sometimes I remember

The Buddha’s message

To Suddhipanthaka

‘Sweep Clean’

Alas this disciple found Liberation

With these two ‘simple’ words

‘Sweep Clean’

People used to call him stupid

For he could not remember half a line of a verse

Arhats tried to teach him

But he could not remember

Until he internalized

‘Sweep Clean’


I used to think that

My clothes were clean

Until I discovered

The stench that I carried within

So I wash, wash, clean

I throw my dirty clothes

Into the water bucket

Cycle around and around

Twelve times to the right

Twelve times to the left

And thirty times up and down

Is it clean?

No, not yet

Fill another bucket of water

And throw it back again and cycle


Twelve times to the right

Twelve times to the left

And thirty times up and down

Is it clean?

No, not yet

So I throw it back again and cycle

I am still in the process of washing clean

I don’t know when

But one day these clothes will be cleansed

And its Owner shall exclaim

‘What a clean shirt!’

And He shall wear it!


But up until that day

I shall continue repeating

Wash, wash, clean

Is it clean?

No, not yet?

Then throw it back again into the bucket!




Song for the Boring Scholar

Oh boring scholar

You’ve come so far

What are you searching

Far away from home


Is it fame

To build your name

In the boring circle

Of elite intellectuals


Is it power

To make others lower

Their heads and hands

Under your speeches


Is it wealth

To fill your shelf

With trophies and books

And golden ornaments


Is it knowledge

To become a sage

And be the one

Who claims understanding


Oh boring scholar

You’ve come so far

What are you searching

Far away from home


Oh boring scholar

Where is your heart

Does it still beat

Crushed flat by your books


Oh boring scholar

Where is your mind

Is it blind

To its inner workings


Oh boring scholar

Where is your soul

Does it still ascend

To transcend the world


Oh boring scholar

Will you ever attain liberation

Freedom from craving

That realization of Nothingness


My dear scholar

To climb the mountain of Truth

You have to drop your books

Lighten your soul

Follow your heart

And release your mind

There will a point in time

When you have to take the Great Leap


Maybe then you’ll reach the summit

Or maybe you’ll die trying

The path to Truth is indeed hard

Choose wisely my dear scholar