Monday, 24 January 2011

MEDITATE

Comment on last week's Project 'MEDITATE':  NOT ENOUGH!

STILLNESS is
the space between movements
the crack in the universe
the gloved hand
with the art
to pull apart
two thin life stitches
and let a stab of nothing in.



New Project: VIPĀKHA KAMMA

Monday, 17 January 2011

"MY BODY", "MY MIND"

COMMENT: "MY MIND" "MY BODY".

Commonsense dictates that in the short term ( i.e. from birth to death), this is clearly the case.  They certainly don't belong to anyone else.  While they are mine, this is both opportunity and responsibility.  Because of freewill I can, within their limits, use them as I wish.  This is opportunity.  My responsibility is to take sensible care them and use them without allowing myself to be used by them.  The human state is very hard to attain. It should be used to attain the highest goal that a human being is capable of: Total Freedom from Suffering.

"O! dreadful is the check - intense the agony -
When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;
When the pulse begins to throb, the brain to think again;
The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain."
                                                                     -Emily Brontë

NEW PROJECT: MEDITATE

Monday, 10 January 2011

SILENCE

COMMENT :

Where there are listeners
there is no silence.
Either the sounds
of the listeners’ minds
rebound
from the boundlessness of space,
or the universe itself pounds
out a multivociferous chatter;
the sound of reaching out,
selecting
rejecting
and pain;
coming together
and falling apart again.



THERE ARE SILENCES

There are silences
born of stillness
others that are discovered
when something snaps:
a cloud,
a stick,
a thought.
(A life).



New Project: "MY MIND", "MY BODY"

Sunday, 2 January 2011

SPEECH

COMMENT: SPEECH

Speech
reaches out
to whisper and shout,
praise and curse,
across a silent universe;
making of molecular vibration
a means of human communication.

It wasn’t always quite like this;
the groans
and moans,
the hiss
and howls
in the warm pre-Cambrian mud
were eloquent enough avowals
of love and hatred, fear and blood.

Even now,
it isn’t always quite the same;
the grunts and lowing
of pig and cow
in farmyard barn and shed
make no poetic claim
but express the cosmic suffering
of the living and the dead.

When fragile humankind
comes here to peer,
through spiralling downwards mind,
into thorny jungles of raw sensation,
it loses its clear articulation;
the fine distinction
of the human word
is dislocated and blurred
into jabbering of animal and bird.


 
New Project: SILENCE