The partner of a longtime sangha friend died today in Amsterdam after a year of illness with cancer. A ceremony for him tonight joins all of us, each individual participant, as one. We chant, bow, burn incense, realizing here and now together what is "beyond" words and understanding. This is where we are not different [...]
This morning I cleaned the bathroom. The mirror had become smudged. I also fed the cat. In a letter written to a friend in the 1930s, Samuel Beckett expressed dismay that a poem he had written was facultatif, or optional. I am struck by the resonance this has for me, how I feel exactly that [...]
The Métro is packed with returning. The babies and small children seem particularly weary and agitated. Everyone, though, looks like they want and need something. I wonder what that might be. I wonder where they have all been, where they are all going. And me? I like this verse from Layman Pang: ''What I do [...]
Go to work early this morning, and deal with the daily news, meeting each task as it comes to me. Hours later, return home to care for my sick child, do laundry, answer mail, cook food. Am quite disappointed not to be able to attend a reading by the marvelous French poet Yves Bonnefoy tonight. [...]
I put aside the newspaper and its endless accounts of economic failure and accusations of fraud and deception, of war and oppression, of hunger and despair, kidnapping, trafficking, loss and gain, plans to save and plans to punish, refusals and denials, rejection and division, glory and infamy, victory and defeat, getting and spending, falling and [...]
It's a brilliant afternoon, spring oozing in every direction as the cat pursues a fat fly buzzing around and around the room. When the insect stops, the cat stops. She waits. The fly crawls along the wall, then zips away, with the cat in fast pursuit. When the fly dips, the cat leaps, nearly catching [...]
In the morning paper, a headline on an article about the tenor Plácido Domingo: Singing every day as if it were the last Every day IS the last, every song the last and best. Domingo said he would end his fabulous career by simply one evening after a performance saying, That's it! And so it [...]
All these days without words now end. Having been sick, there were other things to do. Of course, there is always someone who is sick and always someone who is not. There is always something to do and always nothing to do. And from a friend comes a link to this brief encounter with Robert [...]
Tonight, with words, I construct a diagram of what I experience: the quiet of night deepening, a full stomach, voices in sharp discussion in the street. Language is the form, words the shape, the signs and symbols we have all agreed indicate one thing. In fact, I am only an image, a drawing, as Yves [...]
I read today that Hemingway said writing is not difficult; you just have to sit down at the typewriter and bleed. Like the Third Patriarch of Zen said of the "perfect" way: It, too, is not difficult; it just dislikes picking and choosing. Looking around all day and into night, imperfection abounds, limitless: Sunlight fades, [...]
Le Web carnet de Amy Hollowell Sensei, fondatrice de la Wild Flower Zen Sangha et successeur de Catherine Genno Pagès Roshi dans le lignage Zen Soto de Taizan Maezumi Roshi, fondateur du Centre Zen de Los Angeles.
The Web notebook of Amy Hollowell Sensei, founder of the Wild Flower Zen Sangha and dharma successor of Catherine Genno Pagès Roshi in the Soto Zen lineage of Taizan Maezumi Roshi, founder of the Los Angeles Zen Center.
Alexis says:
Alexis says:
Alexis says: