Insight into Self and Non-self

Total acceptance
of the Dark Night
is the entrance
into Equanimity.

Its the "Self"
which becomes
the acceptance
and its the "Self"
which becomes
Equinimous.

Dark Night
is actualy
teaching the "Self"
that all type
of resistance is futile.

The "Self" accepting
this very fact
is propeling
the "Self"
towards Equanimity.

The "Self"
is de-selfing
into Wisdom.
The "Non-self"
is seen
through looking
at the "Self"
looking for
the "Non-self".

Together as One

I hate you
And you hate me
I hate your father
And you hate mine
I hate your brother
And you hate mine
I hate your children
And you hate mine
I aim the gun at you
And you at me
Aiming between your eyes
And you between mine
We pull the trigger
Together as One

Rhythmic Dharma

Scrubbing floor
Dirt releasing its grip
Water spreading
Music sheets

Hands grasping
Cloth against skin
Warmth exhaling
Rhythmic dance

Drops of energy
Running down the forehead
Eyes like cotton soft
Pointing into spaceness

Just a moment

Trapped under ice
The paradise is
Wisdom displaced
Often in sky evaporating

People are talking
Minds closing in
Just for a moment
Truth sliding away

Step behind step
Before eyes who
Become asleep
Poison arrow flying

Black birds of sorrow
All over the roof
Covering the inner
Most precious heart

Cities are empty
No one to be seen
Winds filling the houses
All windows are open

Smoke in thin air
Shadows creeping clockwise
Slow is the flow
Bones turn to dust

Roads of open space
Travelers long gone
Two meters deep
Buried in black soil

People are talking
Under this skull
Theatre of desire
The curtain is falling

Breathing without
Air as a wind
Grey into lungs
Life stands still

Asleep

Sailing throught
Rough sea
Huricane ripping
White sails

Waves like walls
Closing in
Vessle thrown
Into mass

Tunder striking
Bright and sharp
Sound is cracking
Night into light

Air is trembling
All are awake
Men nor fish
Are asleep

Amongst White Clouds - Movie

Zen Master Dogen - Movie

It was interesting for me to discover that Dogen was born on the same date as I was, on the January 19th (Wikipedia)

Zazen

The teaching is this;
One two three four five
Each inbreath and outbreath
Mindfuly in stillness counting.

Transparent wheel of change
Giving birth to all feelings
Causing the thoughts
Of anger and fear.

Awareness embracing gently
With warmth all arisings
Born to become sorrow
Suffering of the Self.

Counting never stops
Like diligent soldiers walk
Trooping throught the dark night
Spreading the light of Mindfulness.

Again and again in silence
The breath in and out flows
One two three four five
Melting the illusion of self.

Mind-field

No matter what i think, say or feel
No matter what i believe, want or know
Is questionable, Not to be taken seriously
Its origin is unclear and creator unknown.

It all springs from the mind always so justifying
It all is the becoming mind always so proliferating.
When talking to others or about others,
This mind actualy talks to itself, about itself.

Nothing this mind sais
Can be taken seriously.
Each thought, word or feeling
Is like placing a new land-mine under the skull.

All the intent, good or bad
Is like building a mine-field.
The mind ever so ready thinks and talks
Seeding horror over the lands of wisdom.

Growing ever so still and silent
Growing ever so mindful so aware
Of each step one takes in this gloomy Mind-field
Is the only Way to avoid stepping on the mind-mines
Created to blow up the Wisdom to pieces.

The wounded

Teeth against teeth
Sqeeling sound tearing
The fleshy wounds are open
White bones sticking out.

Metal falling hot
Howling down to earth
Welcoming with screems
The creeping death is near.

Hands dragging hands
Covered in smoking blood
Still warm in the cold day
The smoke turns into red dew.

Sweath pouring down
The throat drowning within
The last breath fighting
Open mouth to breath once more.

The making of coffee

Each move is so clear
In awareness of the moment
Right hand through the air
Approaching the can of coffee
Grabbing it with fingers tight
The left hand joining in
Oppening the can
Feet moving hands finding
The cup for coffee and a teaspoon too
One fast move and the water joins
The coffee in the cup fingers spinning
The spoon mixing all into strong scent
The coffee on the lips saturating
The tong down the throat hot.

The art of falling apart

There are things to be thought
There are things to be fought
There are things to be seen
There are things to percieve
There are things to unpeel
There are those to uncover
And many more to become
Before all can be undone
Before it all can start
The art of falling apart