At any time, practice with what you have There is no other practice, Anything else has been cooked in the kitchens of illusion. Get closer
Étiquette : poem
A bas bruit, la vie se gâche
Par nos bricolages et sous nos fixations A bas bruit, la vie se gâche. Être, sans ses schémas, Être en transition Être intransitif
Towards the Magma Heart
It is often said that, to each ‘external’ sense, corresponds an inner version. This can be verified by anyone devoting themselves long enough, or benefiting
Where Souls are Drowned and Bodies Seen as Real …
The Buddha’s Pure Earths, the underworlds, Paradise and all transitional places can be visited while sitting on the cushion. They correspond to the different ‘climates’
Softly Sad
On this very special eve A familiar, comfortable, remotely throbbing feeling Is letting myself melt into this place of Softly Sad. Like songs written in
What Keeps us Afloat
Grasping, which is the mother of all illusions, is the extraction from the flow of thoughts. This flow of thoughts is itself an extraction off the
A Flow of Light
The seamless move from materiality to ethereality, phenomena to vacuity ku to shiki, shiki to ku Non-doing enters emptiness, embraces a thousand forms, and comes
Night Meditation
This time, at the threshold of the night, heat was building up, Time was coming and everything was getting ready, Each piece had to find
Breaking the Glass of Mindfulness
The sharpness of presence has nothing to do With the syrupy vanilla cotton cloud of glazed paper mindfulness of smoky telephone screens of one-way mirrors.
Fields of Fear
Now you have grazed the grass of all those dried up pens : Sit outside all fences. Surprisingly appeased, as no attacker roams Harmoniously faithful
Compulsive Sign Readers
« Learn how to read the love letters sent by the wind and rain, the snow and moon. » Ikkyu and, doing so, beware of the risk
The Leap of Faith
Could we jump off our ill-being
To the pure heart of Being ?
Read-Write-Meditate
Reading, writing, no difference Reading is outer writing Writing is inner reading When I read other people’s words, those I lack, those I admire, or
Welcoming
Even when you get hit right in the heart by the stones of my words you keep embracing life In the puddle filled by a
unintended
beauty struckno warningknew it though icicle splitpipeline of lovethrough my chestbreath catchingvapors of tears words nakedfinallycontemplating simplicity endless nature harmony harmonydissonance vanishedliquid harmony smiling at hands clinging to
Notes & Silence 