Whenever the taste of life rises to my mouth,Without a reason why, without anything extraordinary going on,One stick of incense in a hand, one candle
Whenever the taste of life rises to my mouth,Without a reason why, without anything extraordinary going on,One stick of incense in a hand, one candle
-Christ’s version : Truth will set you free.-The Buddha’s version Lies will lock you up. Franck Joseph – ©FJ Dec 2021Recueils / ParticipationsTelegram (Publications et
Can you perceive your strong attachment to thoughts ?It is difficult to observe, for it is hard to confess, actually. You come here, to this place
As long as dust flies in front of their eyes,Humans will keep trying to join the dots so as to draw a landscape, a setting
On a certain level of silence, there is nothing which can still remainbeside faith and the call from Being.Nothing as powerful, no knowledge as certain
The incense of love gently swirling from the bottom of my soul :I can’t find it in your explanations, justifications nor in the chants and
In Christianity, I do regret those stagnation within intellectual spheres as well as their teleological rationalization.On the other end, I’m as puzzled by the other
Why do ‘believers” have to be fully obsessed with trying to obstruct Life,To strangle Life between their nervous fingers ? How can we not end
I feel gratitude for these concerns, compulsions and circular thoughts that keep arising again and again in my mind,Those mental energies which agitate this mind
Swarms of thoughts,Those who clouded our sights and made us turn in circles in the same psychological neighborhood when we were convinced we could cross
Stories teach me that anger,Anger that holds sleep hostage,Is also my master.A cruel, radical, uncompromising master,But a master whose teaching is unfathomable. Anger shows me
Among the unexpected side effects of meditation practice, we can observe an inexplicable and radical loss of interest for all scenarios and staging delivered via
Pelvis opening,From the back, above the cushion,Like a spreading pair of wingsLike an origami sheet coming back to its fold. Knees anchoring, at last.Femur turning
Sitting Zazen is dyingTruly. Sit down and die. And when masters know their last hour has arrived,They sit zazen before passing away,There is nothing surprising,They
He’s moving about slowly – He needs to be looked at.By hanging a mysterious smile to the corner of his lips, he hopes to summon,