let me tell you a story. it’s funny. you’ll laugh. a comedy of errors, mistakes on all sides, none go unpunished.

doing the right thing is kind of like questioning sanity…. as long as you’re wondering about it, chances are, you’re alright. it’s when you never question it that you’re in trouble. tonight, michael is added to the practice. as i go through the day, in the back of my mind, he is contemplated. the practice is already underway, but the words are reserved until the evening meditation, where they will be added to the others and placed here. after The Fire, in the cooling ashes, the ember yet is. edit to add today’s drop of insight, just found: “The purpose […]

practice and practice and practice… returning to the practices and making a point of doing more than thinking of them, more than merely speaking of them. making a point of practice. i often wonder how these two halves that are so very disparate from one another can co-exist in me. seems like romulus and remus. bodhisattva and bhain sidhe. sigh. anyway. enough of me. practice. it’s time.

close enough, but not quite spot on, re-written to speak to things at long last gone…

some of this is hard to put here. but i vowed to do so. weeds as well as flowers. bah. me and my frakking insistence on keeping vows. :(

“Either way, change will come. It could be bloody, or it could be beautiful. It depends on us.” om benza sattva hum.

Blaming others and holding grudges or having enimty is not Dharma. Our 5 poisons are our 5 poisons, they are the cause of our sufferings, if we have to blame then blame them but not other people. Our limited patience or tolerance that cause conflicts are ours too, blame them. Because of our attachment/desire, ignorance and aversion we take rebirth after rebirth in samsara. In samsara we have to experience all kinds of conflict with other sentient beings….who is to be blame for that? Ourselves of course. Because we brought ourselves to this samsaric situation. That is all.

between insight from the Sangha, Rinpoche, reading, and meditation and the latest, this was really an easy choice to make. finally. there is much thankfulness here for it. the bhain sidhe says with a growl, ‘about fooking time.’ the bodhisattva sighs and is silent.

We, all, are golden keys, delivered and never finalized, though set into ruins, still able to unlock treasures in one another. Floating in tsunamis of shattered bones and shells and seaweed, we sink only when we refuse to rise. Heartsick, apologetic and panicked, yet still the taste of pestilent cities are preferred to sit on the lips, still to carve rather than caress the hollows, still to retch as if seasick from honey and flies. Selfsick, no breath, contact is affirmation of possibility is challenge to be more than culpable, to deny all that bears lie to the truth of […]

he labeled it ‘vættir ‘s death’. a ‘vættir ‘ is a wight, this word, in its masculine form, referring to that which haunts and is haunted by its need to exist and its eternal lack of form. one finds meaning where one seeks it. this is no different. pushing back a disappointed anger that little buddha girl says i should not feel, it remains i instantly draw mental lines.