Dharma Library

beyond words
sometimes too numerous
at other times not enough
beyond time
beyond its dynamics,
divisibility
into what was
into what is.
beyond forgetfulness
beyond the danger
of taking the past for the present
illusion for reality.
beyond the mind
feeding on words, concepts,
beyond imagination
pulsating with images, dreams,
beyond emotion, uncertain, fecund
beyond escape,
beyond departure
beyond everything
there is…

for Hughie

High in the hills of Wales
somewhere above Ceredigion
a fenceless gate swings in the wind.

Bold spirit are you?
A rugged glance, good boots or a 4 by 4
and you're away.

among sheep and ravens
cloudwise among crags
bogs and sudden mist

a falling white out
lost in the desert
chilly too.

Coming down a valley no one ever saw before
the dead still sing in the Inn.
Finding a way home not so easy…

Some years ago, when I was younger and cleverer than I am now, I would have known exactly what to write when invited to contribute an article on Chan.

As it is, I thought to write of counselling and psychotherapy, for there is no doubt that the Buddha dispensed a powerful medicine, strong enough to quench the fever in this world and the next; to examine the nature of what arises, moment by…

Among the glens, bogs and lochans of the western Highlands of Scotland the dividing line between the natural and the supernatural is thin indeed. Beside Loch Shiel

A dagger and a ram's skull
in the summer tanglewood
no birds sing.

That was the explanation why, several years previously, we had camped overnight on the trackless shore too weary to go further, yet each gripped by too much inner terror…

The opening words of the retreat "Where the path stops, you go on into the snow alone" have an enormously powerful effect on me and the combination of the clear Welsh air, the burning incense, the peace, and the clarity of the bell bring tears to my eyes and a lump in my throat so that I am unable to join in the words myself.

The retreat begins, the guest master cheerfully and conscientiously…

Copper whispers blowing in the wind,
beech leaves chase the rough grasses down the field.
At ninety two, I ask myself,
will she see another spring?
She rests there, quiet, her busy conversation gone,
anxieties softened now in forgetfulness of age.
Beside her in the garden, dozing off,
I see her smiling in a ray of autumn sun.
She set my character in grooves
so like her own, wakeful mornings worrying;
skille…

Up at the Maenllwyd -
funny how the days roll by.
I don't seem to be doing anything,
cleaning and writing and cooking
and sitting and walking
sleeping and waking.

Where does it all go?

The time so clear
nobody here
hours - hours
or merely minutes?
Today it is warm;
yesterday cold;
the wind changes,
clouds keep going -
in different directions.

Tonight a comet hangs over the yard
tail streaming in far off sunshine.
D…

"a man is always a teller of tales, he lives surrounded by his stories and the stories of others, he sees everything that happens to him through them; and he tries to live his life as if he were telling a story" Jean-Paul Sartre

I have always been fascinated by the art of story telling and this short book was my first "taste of Zen" through the medium of the story. It is a compilation of a series…

During our recent trip to India we spent one whole day in a rowing boat being taken down river to Banares.

We had an early morning start from a sandy beach clutching our picnic boxes and water bottles to sustain us through the day. Blazing sunshine mellowed and warmed the coolness of the morning as we embarked to the amusement of the village onlookers.

The river Ganga or Ganges is for Indians…

A particular attraction of this retreat was for me the possibility of examining the stages of meditation as it deepened. In order that the process of moving towards a reasonably quiet and spacious state could become rather less haphazard, I had been trying to identify progression in my own meditation. I found the Mahamudra immensely helpful in this respect, clarifying the exact point where it is…