I simply dip the quill in the zafuAnd words drill at the tipThen I harvest them on a notebook.That is all there is to it.
I simply dip the quill in the zafuAnd words drill at the tipThen I harvest them on a notebook.That is all there is to it.
If Buddhism speaks to me, it is because, when I read the texts or when I listen to the talks, they reflect practical experiences I’ve
The shutter that keeps quickly slamming against the window is suddenly smashed by the night wind.This does not bother me at all. The car humming
Sister M., in one of the audio podcast I use while jogging, very quietly, says thatDuring our prayers, our moments of silent sitting, we should
The four lines recited through Buddhist sects in general and in Zen Soto in particular are generally understood are a ritual passages addressed to others
« Master, I feel so helpless, the onslaught of my thoughts seems to have doubled in vigor lately.Even if I sit zazen, they totally draw me
Have you ever met what awaitsAt the very end of an exhalationDid you let the breath in unfurl its arabesquesTo the end of the ends
It had been a long time since the ticklingBehind the center of the foreheadHad not sprung up in the course of Just Sitting. Small gravel
A few nights followedNow, in front of your feet,the chasm begins to open. A few faults, a scree, and here, it presents itself to you.
30 minutes of sitting, Matthew gets up slowly and his legs are numb. Only two candles illuminate the practitioners who, one by one, stand up
A detour by Sister M., a Christian nun who, on one of my jog-along podcasts claimed that we need to see the world with the
Compelled by the oppressive context of our collective daily life, the one to which, as a people, a part of humanity, we are tied, I
The experience of silence is actually the practice of death.It is possible for everyone to soak in silence – if only briefly. We then stop
There is nothing silence will not eventually overcome.There is no phenomenon language cannot lock up and wither. FJ July 2021 – All Rights ReservedArticles are
Pieces of meMyself, in pieces,To save the ship from sinkingWhile crossing the layers of darknessI have no idea how it finally reached the shoreOf the