Dharma Library

It's a dark night
The trees stretch their limbs in the breeze.
The air is cool and the nostrils flare.
Suddenly, the clouds part
And there stands the moon, bright and serene.

A poem in old Welsh style

I am chief doctor unto six thousand,
My country of origin was the Land of Angles.
Ruth and Hilda called me Roger.
I was the question set Sir Gwain;
I am the father of three doctors;
I am the husband of their mother;
I am the voter much misled;
I am a debtor, yet a householder;
I am little Gwion's hurt child;
I am a sleeket cowering timorous beasty;
I am a dense thicket of thorne;
I…

A Western Zen Retreat Poem

The Universe is as the Boundless Sky,
I should have had another piece of bread and jam
As lotus blossom above
I wonder if we'll have tea after this meal
unclean water,
Pure and beyond the World is the mind
Bloody Buddhist Ceremonials
of the trainee,
O Silence of Nature
Don't like him
We take refuge in Thee
Here we go again.

Calm and Clear

Cars converge on Swindon station,
Strained commuters clamber on,
Briefcase, mala, travel passes,
"Sorry, power unit problems."
I take refuge in the jewels,
Generating Boddicitta,
Through the virtues I, by giving,
"Train departing, Platform one."

Free from hatred and attachment,
"Passengers who've just got on,
Please, your tickets for inspection."
Offer objects of attachment,
Visualise, arrayed before me
All…

A haiku diary of a tour through Uttar Pradesh by bus, boat, plane and rickshaw in the winter of 1992.

The plane stops at Abu Dhabi.
White faces recede;
The Fast floods in.

Against a high-rise backdrop,
Two vultures on a pig's back.
Third World.

The fawning rickshaw wallah's
Smile
Frames my guilt.

A black bull
With a white egret on his back;
Time out of mind.

Muzzafarnagar -
Dust and Chaos
No, not chaos.
Everybo…

Physically, I did not find the retreat too difficult. Having regularly practised the one hour meditation sessions traditional in vipassana, sitting for half an hour at a time is not much of a problem for me. And the exercises offered during the breaks between sessions were enough to get the stiffness out of my limbs. Alternating between sitting cross legged and kneeling also helped me avoid any…

I have just returned home, and it seems sensible to write the report before the memories of the retreat begin to slip away. Yet even by writing about it, the events seem so strange and wonderful that words alone cannot express the sheer depth and vast space that has at times punctuated the practise; the clarity of perception, the long silences that can only be likened to the desert, not a silence…

The retreat was an opportunity to practice. But it was also a rare event, for when does a Chan Master such as Master Sheng Yen ever come to a remote Welsh cottage to lead a retreat? Those of us who were able to participate were indeed fortunate.

Last December in New York, Shifu advised me to rest before my next retreat. Having suffered greatly in New York, I made sure I took his advice. I told…

There is no beginning and no end to it, the Sesshin Soto Chan style began on my 49th birthday and ended on my 59th; ten years of ordinary living in one week. So much tension and pain has left my mind-body, and is still leaving me, falling away after another three days. There is much silent stillness now and longer periods of being without thinking, just not habitual and unnecessary stirring this…

I was fortunate to be able to collect Shifu, Guo Yen Hse and Paul Kennedy from the airport. We broke our journey to Wales in Bristol in order to see my family for lunch. As we were leaving and my wife was wishing us well for the retreat, Shifu said, in reference to the retreat, "It's a trick!"

"Yes," my wife replied, "But it's a very good one, and a very necessary one," looking pointedly in my…