The Seeker and the sought

How can I lose?

2011-12-11T09:43:00.000-08:00

One of my all time favorite movies is 'The Hustler'. Towards the end of the movie, Paul Newman after having gone through a lot, comes back to face a sneering George C. Scott with an air of nonchalance and says "How can I lose?" I have recalled that scene many a times to derive support when the chips were down. It was about time I wrote a poem loosely based on it :)

How can I lose?

This?
this is what you throw at me?
After all I have gone through?

I have been through hell
and come back with love
and you think this
this will make me hate?

I have had my hopes crushed
over and over and still I hope
but you think this
this will crush me?

I have worked relentlessly
till
there are very few
buttons left to push.
If you can’t find them,
I smile
and rest.
If you find them,
I smile
and go to work.
Either way
I win.

How can I lose?

Synchronicity

2010-05-21T09:21:00.000-07:00

A long time back, I watched this wonderful movie called 'The double life of Veronique.'
I always wondered how sometimes learning happens inexplicably. I always thought it was unfair that one could not go back in time and undo one's mistakes, but if ......

Synchronicity

Every time I took a step
and could go no further,
did it help someone else
take the next step?

Every time I stumbled
near the finishing line,
did it help someone else cross?

Every time I tried my best and failed,
did it help someone else succeed?

Every time I drowned,
did it help someone else swim?

Every time I fell in a trap,
did someone else walk around?

Every time I gave up,
did someone else carry on?

Every lesson that was hard to learn,
did someone else find it easier?

Every time I took a wrong turn,
did someone else take the right one?

Every time I got stuck in the mud,
did someone else flow by?

If I could not help
but be drawn to my mistakes,
could someone else?

Send me no flowers

2008-10-04T13:01:00.000-07:00

Send me no flowers

I almost got you some flowers.
First there was the getting lost
and then the clumsy bumping into trees
most undignified.
And then I stubbed my toe
and when I fell
I inevitably picked
a thorny bush to land on.
And then I tried to take a shortcut
and almost slipped and slid into the abyss.
Tired I sat
and watched
the pig, the snake and the rooster
go about their merry dance
over and over and over.
I was about to give up
when I saw the flower
and I gazed at it
and said ‘This can’t be mine’.
I couldn’t pluck it
but here is the smile instead.
And when I am angry
here is the smile
and when I am hurt
here is the smile
and
when I am happy
here is the smile.

Take the risk

2008-05-20T19:35:00.000-07:00

Take the risk

You have walked so far
why turn back now?

You have climbed so many hills
what is one more?

You spent years
learning to bear the heat
and now you want to run away from the fire?

You flew all the way here
preparing to jump
and now you are afraid the parachute won’t open?

You spent years
tearing down fences
and now you want to build a wall?

You spent years lifting weights
and now you can’t lift
the boulder on your chest?

You spent years
learning to open
and you want to shrivel up now?

Go ahead
take the risk
and love.

On the three metamorphosis of the spirit

2008-03-11T17:04:00.000-07:00

Long ago, I was introduced to Nietzsche's 'Thus spoke Zarathustra' by Joseph Campbell and I hoped to one day write a poem loosely based on one of the chapters that impressed me the most. Today, I felt a levity that my struggle-prone self is totally unaccustomed to and I attributed it to relinquising a certain amount of struggle. Images from one of the chapters floated in my mind and this poem resulted. I feel much of my life has been spent oscillating(and often vacillating) between the camel and lion that Nietzsche talks about.
Did the customary google on the context for the poem and pasted it at after the poem.

The camel and the lion
Today
I come back
to bear my burdens again
for not bearing them
would weigh me down more.

Yesterday
I roared at my demons
broke my bonds
roamed the world
slaying guilt
at every step.

Today
I come back to my bonds
in search of a freedom
that running away
would not provide.

Tomorrow?
I might roar again
unless
I learn to say “yes”

And here is the extract from Nietzsche:

ON THE THREE METAMORPHOSES OF THE SPIRIT

Of the three metamorphoses of the spirit I tell you: how the spirit becomes a camel; and the camel, a lion; and the lion, finally, a child.
There is much that is difficult for the spirit, the strong, reverent spirit that would bear much: but the difficult and the most difficult are what its strength demands.
What is difficult? asks the spirit that would bear much, and kneels down like a camel wanting to be well loaded. What is most difficult, O heroes, asks the spirit that would bear much, that I may take it upon myself and exult in my strength? Is it not humbling oneself to wound one's haughtiness? Letting one's folly shine to mock one's wisdom?...
Or is it this: stepping into filthy waters when they are the waters of truth, and not repulsing cold frogs and hot toads?
Or is it this: loving those that despise us and offering a hand to the ghost that would frighten us?
All these most difficult things the spirit that would bear much takes upon itself: like the camel that, burdened, speeds into the desert, thus the spirit speeds into its desert.
In the loneliest desert, however, the second metamorphosis occurs: here the spirit becomes a lion who would conquer his freedom and be master in his own desert. Here he seeks out his last master: he wants to fight him and his last god; for ultimate victory he wants to fight with the great dragon.
Who is the great dragon whom the spirit will no longer call lord and god? "Thou shalt" is the name of the great dragon. But the spirit of the lion says, "I will." "Thou shalt" lies in his way, sparkling like gold, an animal covered with scales; and on every scale shines a golden "thou shalt."
Values, thousands of years old, shine on these scales; and thus speaks the mightiest of all dragons: "All value has long been created, and I am all created value. Verily, there shall be no more 'I will.'" Thus speaks the dragon.
My brothers, why is there a need in the spirit for the lion? Why is not the beast of burden, which renounces and is reverent, enough?
To create new values -- that even the lion cannot do; but the creation of freedom for oneself and a sacred "No" even to duty -- for that, my brothers, the lion is needed. To assume the right to new values -- that is the most terrifying assumption for a reverent spirit that would bear much. Verily, to him it is preying, and a matter for a beast of prey. He once loved "thou shalt" as most sacred: now he must find illusion and caprice even in the most sacred, that freedom from his love may become his prey: the lion is needed for such prey.
But say, my brothers, what can the child do that even the lion could not do? Why must the preying lion still become a child? The child is innocence and forgetting, a new beginning, a game, a self-propelled wheel, a first movement, a sacred "Yes." For the game of creation, my brothers, a sacred "Yes" is needed: the spirit now wills his own will, and he who had been lost to the world now conquers the world.

from Nietzsche's Thus spoke Zarathustra, part I, Walter Kaufmann transl

Co-dependence

2008-02-10T07:29:00.001-08:00

Co-dependence
I cannot fulfill your dreams.
I have dreams of my own
or rather I once had
but the memory
still remains
and someday
I may chase what is left of them.

I cannot enter your nightmares
I have nightmares of my own
I am trying to awaken from.

I cannot be drowned in your noise
I am drowning in my own noise
trying
to find a silent corner.

I am walking on my own tightrope
balancing you
and the rest of my life.
I cannot afford to be pulled
and lose my balance.

Swimming Upstream

2008-02-09T17:31:00.000-08:00

Swimming Upstream

Sometime after I set out on this journey
it was clear I would be swimming upstream
why then am I surprised
at the currents carrying me the other way?
Currents inside me
and
currents outside me.

Did I think the forces of anger
would subside and suddenly
start helping me?

Did I think the world I decided to go against
would suddenly turn around
and support me?

Did I think that by swimming a few laps
I would suddenly relinquish
what the world has to offer?

Swimming upstream
trying to avoid
falling down a waterfall
I pine for fruits on the shore
downstream.

Doubt

2007-12-19T18:52:00.000-08:00

This is an old unfinished poem. Just added a few lines at the end.

Doubt

Thousands have perished on this path
will I survive the journey?
Thousands have gone in search of the spring
and had it dry up.
Thousands have found the jewel
only to have it crumble like glass.
So many have walked this path
and found it to vanish abruptly.
So many have heard the rare bird sing
only to see it flutter and die.
How many have walked on firm ground
and still sunk into quicksand?
So many how come down from the mountaintop
and still slipped on level ground.
So many have practiced purity
and yet had it evaporate at the first contact.
And still others have preached non-materialism
while gleefully accepting money.
And still others have preached celibacy
while giving in to temptation themselves.

This path is so difficult
full of fallen idols
full of fallen ideals.
After years of trying
I have but taken a couple of steps.
This path is so treacherous
do I dare continue?

No the answer is not 42!

2007-09-17T17:05:00.000-07:00

How many times?
They ask me
how many times does your heart have to open?
But how many times, I ask,
does the slightest discomfort,
the slightest touch
cause it to shrink
and shrivel up?

They ask me
how many times do you have to find your way?
But how many times, I ask,
do I have to get lost
at every fork
on the main road
forgetting
the mountains I have promised to climb?

They ask me
how many times does your life have to change?
But how many times, I ask,
do I have to realize
the more I change
the more I need to change?

How many times
do I have to get up?
One more time
than the times I fall.

The Impostors

2007-09-17T17:01:00.000-07:00

Shunyru Suzuki said something like 'welcome every thought but don't serve them tea'. At a recent retreat, it became clear, yet again, how I get identified with so many thoughts and what a struggle it is to disengage. But once in a while, the disidentification happens effortlessly. Here is what it felt like:

The Impostors
All this while I thought
that when I got home
and found all kinds of impostors
pretending to be me,
I had to wrestle them down
tie them up
and throw them out
but today
I just smiled
and they vanished.
Tomorrow of course
one of them impostors
will be doing the smiling
but today
for now
the house is empty.

Yet

2007-09-17T14:57:00.000-07:00

I thought about calling this 'The first noble truth' but it felt odd to have the title of the poem be longer than the poem itself. Anyway, this is my shortest poem. Not sure if it is a poem, but it appeared in my mind when I was reading a Buddhist article.

Yet
I know this
I have seen this
and yet

Through a hole in my conditioning

2007-04-15T17:25:00.000-07:00

What a relief!
I can open and flow
I do not have to be tense and hold back
anymore
imprisoned by my conditioning
and the collective hypnosis
listening to voices.
Voices that howl
“You cannot do this”
“You must control what you give
and to whom”
“This is yours and that is not”.
What a relief!
For just this once
I can breathe freely
and not be choked by my selfishness;
for just this once
I can drink freely
from the stream of unselfishness;
for just this once
I can love freely
without
being the one who loves
and give without being
the one who gives.

Golden Arches

2006-07-22T11:44:00.000-07:00

Destroy all art
smother every bit of culture
ban poetry
if that is what it takes
to have peace.
I would rather
people die of boredom
than die in war.
All colorful culture
inevitably
boils down
to one color -
the color of blood.
And all falafels
are the same color
aren’t they?
And does it really matter
how houmus is spelt?

The Zen Ox-Herding pictures

2006-07-15T21:18:00.000-07:00

I have the zen ox-herding pictures on my wall and look at them often. So a poem like this was bound to emerge sooner or later :)

Searching for the ox – again

I who knew the way so well
how could I get lost?
One minute I am riding the ox
home
(or so I thought)
and the next
I neither know where my home is
nor where my ox is.
I have traversed trickier paths than this
with greater dangers on either side
and yet I get lost
on a straight road?
Did I think I could stroke the flames
and not get burnt?
Did I think I could do overtime in the market place
and not care about profit and loss?
Did I think I could keep playing the game
and not get caught up in the score?
Did I think I could drink without a care
and not get drunk?
Did I think I could stagger drunk
and not stumble?
One minute I am riding on the razor’s edge
the next
I can’t even see the line.
Discipline was for the dull
I thought
and morality was boring.
Surely the way I am riding my ox
I don’t need either.
That is when I lost my ox.

Conversation

2006-06-09T19:07:00.000-07:00

All I really care about
is undressing.
And you want to talk to me about clothes
and what to wear for what occasion
or who is wearing what.
As for me,
each layer I have on
feels like a clunky armor
and sometimes even when I am naked
it is not enough -
my skin feels too heavy.
But
go right ahead and tell me your joy
of dressing.
How it makes you come alive.
Tell me the colors you like
how it feels
what suits you
and what doesn’t
and I
will try
to keep my clothes on.

Both

2006-05-28T09:14:00.000-07:00

Should I strive for enlightenment
or leave it to grace?
Should I strive for success
or leave it to fate?
Should I try to change
or just accept myself as I am?
Should I seek company
or learn to be content in solitude?
Should I seek fulfillment of my desires
or attempt to transcend them?
Should I free my animal self
or control it with spiritual practices?
Should I shout from the rooftops
and try to change the world
or accept the world as it is
and pass gently by?
And the answer I suspect is both
both and neither.

Beginner Mind

2006-05-22T19:05:00.000-07:00

The title is derived from Zen Mind, Beginner Mind by Suzuki Roshi. Doubt if this is what he had in mind, but this is my experience of the Beginner mind, or lack thereof :)

Beginner Mind

I remember the time
when I thought the next line
would take me to enlightenment.
Or the next breath
Or the time I stubbed my toe like in those zen stories
Or jumped up at the sound of a bird
Or thought that the occasional rapture
would last forever
Or moments of selflessness had forever
overcome my selfishness
Or built beautiful castles on the zafu
and thought I could live there forever
Or that teachers were magical.
Now I know better
but that knowledge has turned into a veil
or even worse, a wall.
I miss the innocence of running
like a child exploring
expecting
to bump into enlightenment
around the corner.

Bal Govind

2006-05-20T16:37:00.000-07:00

Bal Govind is the Baby Krishna. I always thought the Krishna and Kamsa story had a spiritual interpretation.

Bal Govind

Do you take a dew drop
and hold it to the fire?
Do you tell a sapling
“you must be strong as an oak tree
and need no protection”?
Do you tell a child
‘you should be able to earn a living’?.
Do you take a pearl
and let people step on it?
Do you light a candle
and leave it out in the rain?
Too long have I listened
to drivel like that
and exposed tender parts of myself
to the seasons.
Too long have I left
budding spirituality
to the mercy of the environment.
Too long have I let
the world like kamsa
smash my spirituality to death.

The Edge

2006-05-15T18:12:00.000-07:00

When life keeps confronting you with certain situations over and over that ask you to stretch your limits, you wonder if it is an inducement to learn and grow :)
Norman Mailer said something like "There is this law in life so cruel and yet so just - Change, else pay dearly the price for remaining the same". I do wish that growth or pushing one's edge was not such a struggle though :)
But I think Nisargadatta put this very succinctly - "The mind creates the abyss. The heart crosses it".

The Edge

My heart like the tide
shrinks and grows.
So I waited till high tide
and said
“This is it.
I cannot open any further.
This, is where I draw the line”.
And ego relieved,
sprouted a barbed wire fence.
And life laughed at me
“You say you want the infinite
and still draw boundaries!
You think this
is your limit?
This, is precisely
where I want you to grow”.
“But there is a barbed wire fence in the way”, I said
“And the sand below is covered with thorns
both my heart and my feet
will be bruised and bleeding”.
And life said
“There is no hurry.
I will keep tossing the ball to you
and you will keep crashing against the fence
until it hurts so much
that you take it down
and move it
a little further”.

Not following the plot

2006-05-13T23:49:00.000-07:00

You are not the playwright
you are not even the director
so stop trying to steer
this drama in a direction of your imagination.
You may want this to be a classic
but I may be in the mood for a cheap thriller.
You may want this to be a refined drama
but I may be in the mood for melodrama.
You may want this to be a predictable love story
but I would rather die of boredom.
I am the character
who will not toe the line.
I am more interested in expressing myself
the way I feel now
here and now
rather than conform
to a plot predetermined.
And if you keep playing tricks
to cheat me of my lines
or rob me of my turn
I will show up in unexpected ways -
A frown in the middle of a kiss
A cynical line instead of ‘life is beautiful’
A distracted nod instead of deep listening.
And I will not
let you sweep me under the zafu.

Compassionate Awareness

2006-05-13T23:19:00.000-07:00

One of my teachers, Cheri Huber emphasizes the practice of compassionate awareness. Here is a poem on the topic:

Compassionate Awareness

Here everything melts
dissolves, runs, mixes, loses itself
and finds itself.

Here the judge and the judged,
the accuser and the accused,
the perpetrator and the victim
are both free to come and shout and yell
and both are equally loved.

Here the anxiety and the fear of anxiety
the worry and the destroyer of worry
the regret and the conqueror of regret
the terror and the terrorized
are free to come and whisper and confide
or scream if they so desire
and both are equally loved.

Here in the middle of your hurt
you feel someone else’s hurt.
Here in the middle of your sadness
you feel someone else’s sadness.
Here in the middle of your fear
you feel the other’s fear.
And here at times
there is no other.

Sutra on the mount

2006-04-29T18:13:00.000-07:00

Here is another poem about the process of opening.

The sutra on the mount

We have gone through too much
to hold back now
this is mine
and that is yours
have we not had enough of that already?
My heart runs to the mountaintop
and says “Yes!
From here
everything looks beautiful
the houses in the valley
the cars on the road;
everything looks orderly
no plumbing problems
no exhaust fumes
no dishes in the sink
what are you worried about?
You have seen
what cleverness has done.
It isolates even as it protects.
It is better to be naïve and foolish
and trust
that the mundane can hide but never obscure
bury but not kill
strangle but not choke
and in the end
the few moments of opening will endure
decades of closing up”.

When the heart is closed

2006-04-17T18:05:00.000-07:00

This is kind of a companion poem to the previous poem, Gently. I guess one of the many pitfalls of the spiritual path is to want the heart to open too soon. Time and again, I have had to learn to be patient with myself in this regard and learn even to love my blockages. As Shinzen would say, love them to death :)
Anyways, here is the poem:

When the heart is closed

When the heart is closed
and won’t open,
don’t force it
like the shell of an oyster.
Don’t pry it open
like a lid that is tight.
Don’t kick it down
like a door that is stuck.
It is like a bud that is yet to bloom
or like a flower closed for the night
or a bird crouching behind a rock to heal
or a child that has burst its balloon.
Don’t beat a child
that is crying.

Gently

2006-04-09T08:38:00.000-07:00

Over the next few days, I will be posting some poems that are not new but written after my book(The seeker and the sought) was printed. (If you would like a pdf version of my book or a printed version, please email me at meditator101@yahoo.com).

Here is one such poem:

Gently

I want the heart to open wide
like an automatic door at the push of a button
and be flooded by all the elements
- the wind, the sunshine, the rain, the smell of the earth, the chirping of birds.
But it does not work that way.
It opens suddenly, yes
unexpectedly, yes
but little by little.
It opens to let a smile in.
It opens to drop a demand
or a little bit of judgement
that little bit of judgement
that can create a hell in no time
and cast away the beloved.
It opens
when I let a bit of my selfishness go;
when I smile suddenly
in the middle of my anger
or while shaking my head;
when I am trying to be in the present
but bask in memories without restraint.
It opens just in time
to hold back a comment
realizing that not-doing is as much a sign of love
as doing.

Endless Journey

2006-03-05T09:55:00.000-08:00

I have heard the cliche about the path being about the journey and not the destination countless times and yet continue to be surprised when I re-discover it for myself. Anyway, here is a poem trying to express this in a new way.

No End

This opening
there is no end.
This cleaning
there is no end.
This learning
there is no end.
This growing up
there is no end.
This letting go
there is no end.
This work
will it ever end?
This Journey
this adventure
this swimming against the tide
this falling down and getting up
this getting stuck and going past
this shining light on dark places
will continue
until I end
and maybe
even beyond that.