Sunday, 28 June 2015

2 poems and a haiku


all signs
from within
nothing lost
everything found

______________________


beginning the practice

the first steps of practice will be of great pleasure
consciousness, forms, motion
every animal beating and running a course through your veins

senses, eyesight, love
the first steps awe and are woven in great pleasure
hardly gone a step or two and now you want to sing

______________________

dawn -
a snail scales
the hedgerow

Sunday, 21 June 2015

Anger


A lot of people partake in sports initially as a way to let anger out. Although they will receive the numerous obvious benefits of sports, nothing can cure anger and it is not something that can be let out like an infection. Nothing can cure anger because it is not a disease or malady, it is something we face as humans, part of our experience and existence. What we can do though is control our anger, or more accurately not let anger control us, by understanding the nature of anger. 

Anger is a karmic reaction of sorts. It is useful to forget concepts such as ’karma is a bitch’ and perhaps initially more so ‘cause and effect’ although this too is incorrect as it linguistically implies cause and effect are separate. It takes immense courage to acknowledge your behavioral patterns are inherited from the people around you. It is no coincidence that I am overcome with anger whilst driving and my father is the same (this is where I learned all my swear words from too). This is the karma he is continuing on to me - it’s not going to help anyone if I continue this tradition.


Let us not identify with our anger. I think the first step any one should take is to not identify with their anger - no one is an angry person, no matter how many times you lost your shit today. If we look at how many different states you were in during the day it becomes absurd to identify yourself as an angry-person. For instance most of us sleep for more than 6 hours a day, I’d be very surprised if you were angry for that amount of time during the day, so I think if we were to describe ourselves based on our experiences, or state, it’s probably more accurate to call yourself a sleepy person. 

_________

summer grasses -
all that remains
of the warriors’ dreams

Basho 

Sunday, 14 June 2015

URL Sangha update and schedule

So I’ve been hosting now for three-four weeks and I guess it is a good idea to organise a proper weekly schedule that we can all work towards. With this the official schedule has been decided and will be for four days a week, giving enough space to encourage any future hosts. So the day and times going forward: Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays at 8pm & Saturday 8am. When I started hosting I planned on doing four a week but I’ve rarely missed a day and I will continue to organise impromptu events as long as there is a need and I have the free time to do so. All these can accessed on the google hangouts page and keeping up-to-date with the redditation page is also advised. 

The group has been growing lately and we now have regular attendees. It is starting to feel like a regular sangha. I’ve the  noticed unique personalities and started to understand the individual needs of the people in the hangout sits. It’s a unique privilege to gain insight into the different needs of people on this similar yet different path. Highlighting my own way in knew and exciting ways it helps me assess my own progress and realign and focus on what I am learning. 

And it is learning. I tend to avoid calling the sits a class because it naturally reverts to a traditional understanding of a class dichotomy made up of teacher and student relationship. This is not the case as everyone naturally teaches and encourages each other, so in one sense it is like a class, but in another it is not. It’s not helpful to get bogged down in these semantics so it’s time to shut up and sit down again. 

______________

a starry night -
going back home 
through a longer path


Zohreh Zahedi

Sunday, 7 June 2015

Three haiku

Three Haiku from the Shamrock 31

father’s old house –
his voice both here
and gone

dusk –
swallows weave
through bails of hay

twilight –
waves breaking
with the fisherman’s casts