—If we want to be held, we have to behold. I admit that well into my thirties, I felt this natural yearning to be seen and heard which in time became urgent and draining. But over the years, I slowly came to realize that being held is more important than being understood. When held, I don’t care so much about being seen or heard; because being held is being seen and heard in a way that affirms our very existence,... Read more
Though it’s all one world, when we close our eyes to the outer life, we open our eyes to the inner life, and we are made to blink so we can live in the one true world. Read more
Dig something you think might last from the earth and wedge the air from it. Then clean the wheel, the one which spins on its side, the one which goes nowhere. Slap the clay on the wheel and sit forward with your legs firmly planted. Brace your forearms against your thighs. And wet your hands. Let the wheel spin. Keep your hands steady against the clay which wants to leave the wheel. Though it feels like the wheel is shaping... Read more
When asked about the difference between a slow-witted boy and a sage, a rabbi said, “Humility and Praise.” His students were puzzled. He went on, “The unaware one grows like a stone—solid and enduring. The awakened one breaks through the dark like a sapling breaking ground—its reach mirroring its roots. The self-conscious one darts like a rabbit, never in the open for long. It watches for others and watches itself chew. But the embodied one lives like a turtle crossing... Read more
What we want and what we’re given often serve two different Gods. How we respond to their meeting determines our path. Read more
It could be the letter never answered, the one in which you declared your love in such a tender way, admitting to every- thing. Or when the shell you brought all the way from the Philippines is dropped by some loud stranger you never wanted to show it to in the first place. It could all unravel the moment the shell shatters on your floor. Or on a summer bench, your eyes closed, your fear about to vanish, the heat... Read more
For a poet whose fidelity has been to the timeless voice of that underground stream in which all that is wiser than us sings, speaking of God has produced an interesting echo throughout the years: like singing the same question in different weather; first into the wind, then into a crowd, and now before and after the crash of ancient waves. All the while, critics have been reflexive in their reactions: leaning in, backing away, looking puzzled, getting angry. Yet... Read more
In speaking about the non-dependence of the mind, Dōgen says, “Coming, going, the waterbirds don’t leave a trace, don’t follow a path.” There are many ways to understand. Driven by our need to be seen, the mind can understand in the manner that a plow cuts the earth, overturning everything it encounters; leaving nothing as it was found. Or as Dōgen suggests, in our need to see, the mind can understand in the manner that a waterbird enters and leaves... Read more
This is the world of Grandma Minnie, the Brooklyn of my youth so full of unknown wonders and windows as far as I could see, out of which countless heads would lean and call for children I didn’t really know. But the open windows everywhere made me feel we were all connected, made me feel that each living room washed into the next. I would sit on the cement stoop and watch one drama waft into the street and mix... Read more
I couldn’t keep the damn glasses clean. Kept wiping them and curs- ing them. And my left ear was get- ting worse. Those across the room were shouting secrets behind a water- fall. But I wasn’t ready. Kept wiping the damn glasses. Kept trying to make sense of things I couldn’t hear. I didn’t feel stubborn. And I want so very much to see and hear. Then after a long un- folding, the cocoon my soul was eating through gave... Read more
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