Open Road Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue

 

July 15, 2021

 

Rhyming With Thich Nhat Hanh

 

1

Once upon a cloudy day

a wandering poet lost his way

a busy yard-sale he passed by

drew him back, he wondered why

Browsing through a battered trunk

he found a book by a Buddhist monk

Thich Nhat Hanh was the writer’s name

interconnection, his basic game

the young man skimmed in search of clues

a garden of thoughts, so many to choose

the path being offered was simple but steep

and spelling that name, a Grand Canyon leap

most daunting of all was rhyming that name

for a poet, perhaps, the ultimate shame

suddenly hungry and ready to roam

he put down the book and started for home

When he got to the sidewalk the poet could tell

his sense of direction was not doing well

the sun was now setting, the clouds darker gray

it was not a good time to be losing his way

a man from the yard sale saw his distress

and showed him a bus that would pass his address

slumped in a seat as the bus took him home

he feared he might never again write a poem

then he thought of the book that he found in the trunk

and wished he had spent more time with the monk

That night the poet fell into a dream

the moon deep blue, the sky rich cream

a brindle cat, in a bare black oak

was playing a fiddle with a lively stroke

in a dark red vest and odd shaped hat

he swayed as he fiddled on the limb where he sat

above the tree, in the cream colored sky

approaching the moon, was a cow who could fly

A gasp escaped from the poet’s throat

the music stopped on a jagged note

the soaring bovine paused mid-air

the fiddling cat conjured a glare

 

2

What is your problem, poetry man?

Did something happen that’s not in your plan’?

As the poet described his rhyming confusion

The cat cut in with a crisp conclusion

You can’t find a rhyme for Thich Nhat Hanh?

Poetry man, you’re putting me on

By now the cow had cleared the moon

and sang a sympathetic tune

Easy, cat, he’s flesh and bone

he thinks, in life, he’s all alone

with broken compass and hobbled rhyme

his sails are empty on the sea of time

The cat tipped back his pork pie hat

with stingy brim and crown so flat

Of course you’re right, dear nimble cow

he’s everywhere but here and now

rhyme adds power to a tale

like the gust of wind that fills a sail

and rhymes add balance but aren’t essential

to celebrate this world’s potential

Thich Nhat Hanh has an open vision

he honors the world’s unseen precision

for example, in a sheet of paper

he sees a cloud of water vapor

without rain there’d be no trees

no trees, no paper, if you please

As the cow was gliding back to earth

the poet admired her supple girth

she wasn’t slender, nor even trim

but she moved with ease and bovine vim

her coat light brown, with islands white

the streak on her forehead, a comet in flight

touching down near the big black oak

she flicked her tail and again she spoke

That sheet of paper is a fine example

of endless connections we might sample

look more closely and straightaway

you’ll see the sunshine of the day

 

3

with no sunshine, we all know,

there’s no way a tree can grow

so in this simple paper sheet

rain and sun and tree all meet

The cat chimed in so calm and cool

like he was sunning by a pool

As we savor these connections

we open out in all directions

and though the parts may seem diverse:

the earth, the stars, the universe

everything that we perceive

is in the universal weave

Like a water lily in the sun

glowing, growing, we are one

The poet smiled, for he could see

that lily floating full and free

he took a breath, he heard a cough

his darned alarm was going off

He hit the snooze and tried to think

his brain a frozen skating rink

gone the guiding conversation

oozing back, the deep frustration

no words of cat or even cow

to keep him in the here and now

and still no rhyme for Thich Nhat Hanh

how could a poet carry on?

But . . . something has been gently changed

his rhyming pathway rearranged

the porkpie cat and comet cow 

have clarified his course somehow

and though they live inside a dream

the gifts they offer flow downstream

with new connections comes a dawn

revealing rhymes with Thich Nhat Hanh

 

—Nick Eldredge, 2020

nickeld109@gmail.com

*

 

Here are some excerpts from Michel’s meditation journal. The numbers refer to meditations in Thich Nhat Hanh’s book, Your True Home:

 

June 14, 2021  #143  Everyone Smiles

 

It’s a lovely sentiment, one I hope can be true. It’s a Butterfly Effect moment: “Smile and the whole world smiles with you.” Or, so it’s been said. There are times when smiling is just damn hard to do. Or, I just don’t wanna do it! But, a truth is that if I smile—shake myself up a little and struggle through my pain, to smile from my toes—others will smile back , genuinely happy to be see and be seen. We can alter our minds’ courses, as well as our emotional states. Smiling is one of the positive ways. So, if you see someone smiling, look at him or her—(wonder to yourself: what’s going on?)—and, while making eye contact, share in their smile. And, when you find one who has no smile of his or her own, again, looking deeply at them, smile your warmest, most compassionate, well-wishing smile. (It’s instinctive to smile back to a genuine smile.) It’s hard not to chortle and smile as I write these thoughts of smiling, sharing smiles, and just being happy. It’s a choice each of us is allowed to make. Doing so makes the world better, even for a brief painful moment, just for the price of one simple, genuine, loving, compassionate smile shared, intentionally or not, with the world around. (It makes everyone look better!)

*

 

June 20, 2021  #149  When Strong Emotions Arise  —  Happy Father’s Day!

 

I can really use this one; last night I was racked with deep grief as I have never felt grief or sadness before. I still haven’t a clue as to why. It just came over me as I began my evening prayer service, and caused deep overwhelming sadness. It lasted for minutes. An eternity that might not end, I thought. I knew I didn’t want to stop it, but breathe through the experience. At the same time I found judgement about self-indulgence—how protracted grief can be self-indulgent. I don’t know, but there it was—a self-induced indictment for “being” (acting) self-indulgent with an experience (and display?) of deep grief of unknown/undefined origin.

 

Eventually, a focus on the breath did calm the overwhelm. Even now I can sense this same sadness just below the surface of attention, as if it rests just below my skin. I can’t bring it to surface just now, yet I am aware of its presence as part of my being. I accept it as part of me and for reasons (deep past pain, maybe?) unknown just now, I don’t know its origin or cause. Maybe I’ll experience it again, or not. When I do “feel” it again I can rest with it, breathe and release a need to define or judge it.

 

If I attempt to resist, restrain, or even fight back the tears, I’ll only end up suffering a worse mess than if I allow the sensations to run their course through this body. I hope to have enough presence of mind to relax and observe what is coming up, as I also focus on breathing. I can allow curiosity, yet I’ll not want to push too hard or the critical self will arise and condemn, adding to the grief and suffering, instead of allowing it to be what it is, and (eventually) to reveal its source and originating cause—it could be related to childhood traumas, grief for lost innocence, or time lost from not bonding with my father (who may not live to see my scheduled release date: he’s 85 now.)

 

What will matter is how I do/don’t allow myself and the body to experience these feelings, sensations, emotions when they arise again. If I fight, it will only be more powerful the next time, with the added sensations of the self-battle for restraint and any new emotions about that strong feeling arising. By fighting it, instead of letting it be, I see that I create a past-future tether which pulls at me to not be in the now. It prevents the strength and healing needed to allow this to arise again and for me to just be with myself as it happens, allowing the senses to be part of my now—breathing “quietly,” “calmly”—looking with compassionate curiosity at what came up, not needing to define or judge, but just to be.

*

 

June 21, 2021  #148  Fearless Bodhisattvas

 

It would be nice to be “fearless.” I guess once I transcend attachment and aversion I can be a help to others on their journey out of suffering. It’s next-level stuff, as some may say. To me it seems important to keep this suffering of others in mind, not to take it on, but, maybe, to join them under their burden and in doing so lighten their suffering, even for a moment, so they can get a glimpse of Reality as it is. Maybe not. It could mean something totally different.

*

 

June 22, 2021  #150  The Arhat

 

Finally! Recognition for doing “nothing.” I find it very easy, even in here, to get caught up with being busy, doing stuff—it’s important, mind you, just ask and when I have the time I’ll let you know how busy I am with all of my importance. I find it sad that, as a culture, we value packing and cramming each and every moment of a day with stuff. Sure it’s important, and we want to make the most of the few moments we have left. But, wouldn’t it be nice to breathe, relax and just enjoy each moment as it passes before us—instead of working and struggling to “do”—and make the most of a moment we can’t get back. And then, suffering for not enjoying the moment more fully. I find it scary how familiar this sounds to me.

 

—Michel Deforge

*

 

                       Song Sparrow

                    Melospiza melodia

 

Thicket hidden, choir of one, message invisible 

sent to pierce my invisible spirit, how do you 

know me so well to tune your secrets to my own?

 

Denizen of thorn and shadow, you yet sing 

silver clear, flit, flurry, and disappear,

leaving your psalms in me.

 

This ministry, gospel of the good by hint 

and revelation, begins in your breath to fill 

the sky, unruly syllables of song salvation.

 

Sparrow, let our bargain be: You remind me 

of the covenant between wild and human life,

and your thicket I will defend.

*

 

    Midrash on a Sacred Encounter

 

When the little ones gathered at my feet

they couldn’t stop laughing every time

I spoke a poem, as if they were wild birds

and I scattered seed for their singing and singing,

singing back to my songs and stories, and they 

fed me questions as old as psalms: How long 

does it take to write a poem… what’s the longest 

poem… who taught you poems… what’s 

the oldest poem… what’s oldest 

inside a poem…what is a poem 

and what is not?

 

Then they laughed and clapped

and I bowed and felt blessed

and we went out into sunlight

and all went forth to heal the world.

 

—Kim Stafford

*

 

To love is the greatest thing in life; it is very important to talk about love, to feel it, to nourish it, to treasure it, otherwise it will be dissipated, for the world is very brutal. If while you are young you don’t feel love, if you don’t look with love at people, at animals, at flowers, when you grow up you find that your life is empty; you will be very lonely, and the dark shadows of fear will follow you always. But the moment you have in your heart this extraordinary thing called love and feel the depth, the delight, the ecstasy of it, you will discover that for you the world is transformed.

 

Katie Radditz sent this quote from J. Krishnamurti (1895-1986)

*

 

The state of wordlessness can be elusive. When we talk about it, we use words. Try this baby meditation and see what happens. Imagine that you are a baby, newly arrived on Planet Earth. You look around. You have no words for anything. Nothing you see has a name. You don’t know words like “meditation,” “mindfulness,” “breath,” “thought,” “present,” or “moment.” You don’t know who you are. You have no name. You don’t have any regrets. You don’t have any plans for the future. You don’t have any problems. You don’t know what’s going on—but it’s extremely interesting!

 

(Typing this dialogue up at a coffee shop, just now my the nonstop love-in baseball cap elicited this question from a guy: “Where is it?” To which I replied: “It’s here. It’s now. It’s everywhere and always.”)

 

If you are a reader of the Meditation & Mindfulness Dialogue, please consider submitting something in time for the August issue, which comes out on August 15th. August 17th is my 70th birthday. You could do it as  your birthday present to me. It would make me happy.

 

 

May all people be happy.

May we live in peace and love.

 

—Johnny Stallings