Monday, June 22, 2015



In a restaurant
I hear a mother going over grades
With her daughter
A high schooler
wearing a black fedora
trimmed with a multi-colored band above the rim,
Wire rimmed glasses perched on her nose
And a stuffed animal necklace around her neck.
One ear bud in her ear.
Questions about points and averages
She needs to get that A
She nods and only begins to speak
But the conversation is so fast
No one is listening
It changes
She turns and gets lost in her phone
Moving away from a conversation
She was never having.


At another table
A man tells his eight year old daughter
That she has to set up at the table
He is lost in his paper and
She is laying on the bench
Did he notice her because
She has kicked him
With her foot
She gets up and walks away
Then returns to grab his phone
Trying so hard to engage
A father who is so far away from her 
But right next to her.

Not together
But at a distance
Far apart
What a wonderful day
It would be

If they could laugh together. 
Dipa Ma taught that the mind is all stories, one after another like nesting dolls.  You open one, and another is inside.  Open that one, and there is another story emerging.  When you get to the last nesting doll, the smallest one, and open it, inside of it is – what? It’s empty, nothing there and all around you are the empty shells of the stories of your life. 

Because Dipa Ma was able literally to see through the stories of the mind, she did not acknowledge personal dramas of any kind.  She wanted her students to live from a deeper truth than their interpretations of, and identification with, the external events of their lives.  Dipa Ma knew all about life’s dramas.  She had personally suffered chronic illness; grief at the deaths of her parents, husband, and two children; and crushing despair.  Only when she had gone beyond identification with the stories and dramas in her life did she begin to live as a free person. 


From:  Dipa Ma The Life and Legacy of a Buddist Master by Amy Schmidt.  

Thursday, June 18, 2015

It's raining.
I'm going 
out
to
dance.
I am already
wrinkled.
I can get
as
wet
as
I want!

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

For Lily

Before you left
I snuck a tiny book
into your purse,
Lawrence Ferlinghetti.
So you would
read
and know
that your life
is a
poem
too!

August 2014