Bangladeshi Vision

Tags

Bangladesh, Television, vision

much woe

Bangladeshi Vision

[c. 1984, Cincinnati]

 

The boy whimpers through tiny teeth,

mewing noises from a brown body, a child’s,

a bare head with a few nicks

and short scars in the scalp,

the land behind him featureless and wet.

His little sounds bubble and drift

into the camera’s eye.

Nothing changes. He moves away.

The camera follows hims.

Looking over his brown shoulder,

still whimpering, mewing,

dragging the memory of drowned parents

onto the featureless landscape

away from the camera’s eye

that swallows the specks

of light, packages of sound,

paddles them to ordered waves

to pierce through miles of air.

Split-second carriage transfigures

the specks, the packages, to pieces

of light that push onto her bed,

a king-sized bed, with a brown quilt.

She lies on her right side, knees slightly bent,

propped on an elbow, TV light scattering through the bedroom,

into green eyes, pieces of light pelting,

plunging down her discerning middle,

caving her in, bending her knees deeply,

moving them closer to her head, feet pointing

long and tense, arching.

She cries out, flings an ancient arrow.

Daughter of the Night

Tags

cedar, Chenresig, cranial bowl, full moon, Moon, Pelvic floor

Chenresig Brain Tree

Daughter of the Night

I took a walk in the body of the night. The full moon blew black clouds—brooding organs—beneath the cranial bowl of sky. Clouds moved big, like changing thoughts, massed forward and away, blacking out then whitening the dark. I fit into the night. My arms, legs, shifted shades of gray one and the same with all of it—the whole hill and field and hay bales, frigid grass, leaves, stalks crisp and spindly like brittle bones that gave out chatter as I crushed them underfoot. A tufted cedar grew dark at the peak of the hill. Off a ways. Lone at the top.

And the wind. Full of the moon’s white leaking into me. Blanching me everywhere. I opened to it. Dropped my pelvic floor, softened my chest, let go my knees a little, to let it know I would take anything, anything it was or had to give. I was all of it. Kin to the moon, the sky, clouds, hill, cedar. Yes.

Alone—Without Sangha

Tags

Buddhism, Cincinnati, Dharma, India, Reiki, Sangha, Vermont

A Pure Vessel

Because of the blossoming of my current physical and mental frailties, I am wholesomely cared for by my mother. I am unable to do many things. Nearby friends and daily encounters are with non-Buddhist practitioners. And this will continue for at least a year as I recover.

So, I deeply miss any Sangha or sangha community life. They have all fallen away and/or taken away their presence in my life.

Starting with Dec. 1 surgery, will begin my year of ripening old heavy negative karma.

But I have to (and have done already for one year) remained bedridden, and thanks to SSDisability, I am grateful, so grateful for it.

My only core that has kept me from going insane, is the Dharma and my Root Guru in Vermont (while I am in Cincinnati). And I’m still persevering with mindfulness, meditation, mantras . . . all Dharma practices, yet finding it hard to study much because of pain medications.

As this ripens, I know how much stronger an aspiring bodhisattva I will be . . .”What doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.” I feel stronger in a very deep way with the time to meditate, do pranayama, and say mantras after preliminaries. I’m not yet up to what I want to be my Full Practice. I’m being forced to be more mindful in my movements because of the side effects of many medications which cause physical disorientation.

I know better not to look to the future or the past, and to be present to the moment 100%

I am grateful, so grateful for what I have here: shelter, Disability income, a grace-filled mother who lives just below me, and my greatest advocate, my greatest participation in his creation—my son. All of our extended families are slowly facing each other. Goodness is coming to us, so I spend my time on this blog as well as http://HarknessBallet.wordpress.com.

So, I’m in a cave, often going days without seeing anyone. And I think of this as training my extraordinarily monkey-on-crack mind. The lack of stimulus other than the computer, feels somewhat what a 3 years, 3 months, and, 3 days typical retreat might be. I can more understand the isolation, the deepening of practice without interruption. Someday I wan to be able to do the typical retreat. The physical and Reiki treatments would sustain me. That is my goal anyway, now.

One learns the discipline of daily routine, cleanliness, nutrition; and one persists with Daily Practice, Reiki and is better able to understand oneself, one’s limitations, one’s endless boundaries. I’m being taught how to be alone and not lonely. I feel like I am growing from each day of sickness. This leads me to almost feel capable of being alone for that length of time.

Whenever I die, I want you all to know that I sincerely want to be cared for by Tibetan Buddhist Geshela Lobsang Sopa in Vermont, or at Shar Gaden in India.

“May I ne’er turn back from just that excellent path praised by Buddha” (Sorry, this medicated mind and brain fog have made me extremely forgetful.)

I request prayers of you all, that I become a capable person who carries her own work (of living the Dharma) and others’ work with grace. Thank you for your virtue . . .