These clouds gather and go 11.04.16

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

These clouds of ignorance

Come and go

Veiling my beloved Moon

~~~

Sometimes the Moon shines

Its lovely light

Sometime it covers herself

With a dark veil

As if death permeates

The whole Universe

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

The warm wind whispers

“The Moon shyly veils itself

In order to give herself to the right one”

~~~

My beloved Moon,

This path is long and painful and lonely

In order to reach your Heart

~~~

You spin the tides and the waves

To test the traveler.

Once you whispered to me

“Before you strive for Me,

First you have to cross the Ocean”

First step into the dry sand,

Then the waves,

Into the deep-sea,

Until you eventually

Reach the other shore

There we shall meet

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

Down below,these shore waves

Have already battered me half-dead

How can I cross the Ocean and reach you

My beloved Moon?

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

I wonder,

Perhaps I carry too much burden

No I can’t travel this burdened

With luggage from past and future

So much bondage to the things of this world

Still circling incessantly

Wishing happiness and escape from suffering

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

Oh I’ve circled long

I see a sad child

A confused teenager

An over-worked middle aged man

And a lonely old-man

So much suffering

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

I’ve tried some escape routes:

Eating

Following the ‘happy’ ones

Over-working

‘Rebelling’

And following the advice of the Ego

Yet I still suffer much

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

Such is my bondage

To the things of this world:

Pleasure

Respect

Fame

Happiness

Oh my Ego and I have fought

A tough fight for these

We kicked and punched and grasped

Running and chasing

As far as India

Until home returned

To fight again

For things of the world

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

We fought a hard battle Ego

It’s seems like it’s time to Surrender

Surrender to the All

For you shall never win a battle against

The One, the Divine Creator

Of you and me and All

Accept yourself as you are

An earthly human

Created in the image of All

Confused and ignorant

Not knowing the path

Foolish and sinful

So Surrender and appreciate this moment

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

These clouds

Gather and go

~~~

Sooner or later the clouds shall return again…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

Time

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

Fearless

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

Watching

Cornering

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’

Fools!

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

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

Blossoming

‘Even if the cherry flowers bloom,

Ours is a world of suffering.’ — Issa, Japanese poet (1763-1827)

 

I dedicate this poem to the cuckoo that sings with a sweet voice:

 

Lonely tree

Blossoming flowers

Kissing bees

Butterflies flirting

In Circles

Cleansing rains

Clearing clouds

Shy Sun shyly shines

 

So many flowers blossoming into the world

Spreading Love

Beauty of Creation

Selflessly serving

For the Divine One

 

A voice echoes with the wind

Dear closed flower buds

Blossom, blossom and blossom

Blossom into the world

It is more painful to stay caged in

Than reaching for true Freedom

Let go of your burdens

Pain, abuse and suffering

Let go of your ‘self’

Desires, dreams and attachments

Allow your fragile petals

To open up one by one

Until all is surrendered…

 

It’s not an easy task

Not at all

Of letting go

So take your time

One day you’ll shine

Just remember

You are not alone

There are so many flowers in the tree

There are so many trees in the forest

And so many forests on Earth

It might be that all are slowly

Disappearing…

So much suffering in this process of change

Hence listen, listen to the cuckoo’s calling

Purify your inner world

And blossom into the outer one

The whole universe shall rejoice

From rivers, mountains and forests

To birds, bees, butterflies

All sentient and non-sentient beings

Remember you are not alone

Listen to the sweet cuckoo’s calling

Blossom, blossom and blossom!

 

 

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

Flying Home

Home

Is a concept I struggle with

 

Where is home?

Sometimes I ask

Flying around the world

 

Is home

Lisbon?

An estuary city where the adventurous Tagus River

Meets the mysterious Atlantic Ocean

History recalls that seabound ships left

This city’s shore towards the four corners of the world

Some call it discovering new worlds

Others call it conquering,

Pillaging,

Raping,

Murdering and enslaving.

Whatever terms people decide to give

By the other side of the river

Lord Jesus Christ stands with arms wide open

Watching over

Who am I to judge?

I am just a little wave among all the waves

Hitting the shores of this coastal city

Where fishermen sail deep into the ocean

Praying to hopefully return to their families

With cartloads fresh fish

Oh that lightly charred sardine!

Oh the smell of roasted chestnuts

Tap-dancing in the hot oven

To the humble seller’s melodic chants

Nearby pigeons

Dance in circles their stylish pigeon-dance

Around the old smiling lady

Feeding corn and stale bread

Calmly

Each movement gently flowing

No rush to do anything

People sitting and chatting

In sunny esplanades

Drinking “cafés”

Laughing

And reminiscing the good old times…

I remember

From when I was still in elementary school

That unexplainable smell of warm spring rain

Gently touching the mud

Pregnant with the seeds of spring flowers

Waiting to blossom into the world

When rain fell

All the children would stop playing their usual games

Some seek cover, some not at all

And everyone would simply contemplate little raindrops

Falling from the sky

Into the open school ground

And when these short rain showers stopped

I would run with my best friends

Dig holes in the mud

And continue our glass bead game

Our circular beads

Clashing and departing

Only memories remain

 

Is home

Gantou?

A small village in south-east China

By the margins of Ou River

Where my kinship line is traced to

The ancestral tombs resting on bayberry covered hills

Calmly watching over the village and its descendants

Sometimes I wonder

If my ancestors are happy with all these changes happening:

From a small village to an industrial town

From small huts to tall buildings

From farms to factories

From cattle to cars

From streams to stench

Oh my childhood stream

Where I used to swim

It no longer flows

Standing still like a puddle of stenchy urine

Discharged by uncaring residents and factories

I remember I almost drowned playing in that stream

Fortunately I was saved from death

But how about the people slowly drowning in the polluted industrialized air?

How about the old people silently drowning in sorrow

For their past village memories no longer correspond to their present reality

Oh lonely elderly parents

Most of their children have migrated abroad

Filled up their pockets with foreign money

Some send back remittances

Some return to build big tall houses for their parents

Or for themselves to display and compete for social status

Their pockets might be full

Yet their roots are rotten

But who am I to judge?

I am just a little stream among many streams

Flowing trying to connect to the river of Life

Instead of judging others

I strive to clean up my own mind

And deeply dive into myself

Therefore I continue my search for home…

 

Is home

New York City?

Where I was born

Under the shadow of temple like skyscrapers

Spreading ideas and ideologies

Coded in images, sounds, products and services

Casting a web like illusive world

Where people flock like sheep

To this land of struggle and opportunity

Searching for the American dream

And once the ‘chosen’ ones finally reach this place

They are given a take it or leave it offer

Either take a bite of the American dream like everyone else does

Or go back to where you came from, loser

I wish I knew where I came from

So I’ll continue searching…

 

Is home

Ithaca?

A land of waterfalls and peaks

Rising and falling

Into its vineyard surrounded lakes

A hilly place this is

Where learning and un-learning occurs

Where conditioning and un-conditioning occurs

Depending on the seeker

A place where the bonds of friendship are tied and untied

Where the cold heart is tickled by the warmth of its downtown festivals

Where all kinds and types of people somehow gather together

To celebrate, dance, sing and eat

Crunchy apples, savory chilis, pad-thais, momos

And whatever dishes you can think of

Ithaca can be place of inspiration

Contemplation

And meditation

On its South hill

A Buddhist monastery

Stands majestic

Spreading dharma into the ten directions.

Hm I am still not settled yet so I’ll continue searching…

 

Is home

Kolkata?

A city in the land of Bengal, India

Where the Ganga flows though

To surrender herself to the divine Sea

Where the East meets West

Not so peacefully

Where everyday is a battleground

Of class, caste, race and ethnicity

Yet from chaos

Sometimes order ensues

After the traffic fog clears

The divine nature of things

Can be experienced by the river

Impermanence

When people bid farewell to their beloved ones

For no(body) lives on forever

Interdependence

When upper and lower castes all depend on the same river for survival

The Void

When the river fully absorbs and becomes the force acted upon it

 

It might be

That the concept of home is

Self-constructed by the Ego

 

It might be

That the concept of home is

Beyond the concept of space

Beyond the concept of time

And it is necessary to transcend these

 

It might be

That in order to transcend these

I need to clean up my sense of “I”

Wash off the mind’s dirt

Sweep the dust of cyclic existence

Clean up past karma

And purify all impurities

 

It might be

That home is a state of mind

Beyond consciousness

Or consciousness meeting consciousness

And exclaiming

Long time no see

It was about time my old friend

Welcome Home

Search no more

For you have finally arrived at your Destination.