A week of quiet intimacy,
We respond to gongs, bells
and knocks on wood.

Speak only sutras
and necessities.

Move in meditation
amongst  ghosts and hells

surrounded by power realms
and heavens with no eternity

We look for forms
of wisdom and compassion
on some middle path.

What am I
other than
impermanence?

Whilst chopping vegetables I’m  distracted by the unborn, the undying, the unknown.
or sex.

View of the wall,
the weight of — body
my seat and feet.

What am I
other than impermanence?

Avoiding the void
with stillness.

We feed and clean
ourselves in silence.

All ending with a bow
in gratitude
in gassho.

by Doreen Domb
11-20-2011

One breath at a time
our working progress
individual and collective holding vigil
holding the center up — from mind’s hijack
peacefully abiding the terrain of body
its mindfulness not ever fooled,
whilst occupant mind is oft reigning fool’s errand

Steady a relinquishing grasp
upon the stalking of hope…
rather than merely shadowing Intention,
solidify its grounding thought
grant it Motion
Heart will carry out what present conditions beckon

Exert one’s self endlessly
towards a greater good serving
all kingdoms of nature serving
right alongside one’s journeying spirit
support ability to exude Kindness
practice best knowledge that launches readily
from the dwelling of self-empathy

The backdrop to surrounding topography
both relative and boundless,
SO matters
in the instant shift takes root
from within and without,
forever practice indifference
to the differences between and among
allow the sound of such words
to care for deeply the ongoing thread soul (sutratma),
this working progress
one breath at a time