• Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Introduction
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Chapter 10
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
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mlewisredford

~ may the Supreme and Precious Jewel Bodhichitta take birth where it has not yet done so …

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: spontaneity

the Bodhisattva set out / for the Seat of Awakening

18 Tuesday Jun 2019

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

2019, 7*, Arya Lalitavistara, Bodhisattva, Buddha, calm, dark, demon, earth, echo, elephant, food, ground, happiness, light, lion, lotus, mindfulness, mountain, omniscient, past life, path, plateau, power, river, samsara, spontaneity, stars, step, three poisons, Tree of Awakening, view, walking, wheel

                so he bathed in the Nairañjanā,
                he ate the food, his strength

                returned, and he began the walk
                toward the Great Tree; he walked

                with easy gait, grounded
                as a mountain, each step gained

                and graceful with no fight, dream
                or idea; the placement pad of a lion,

                the calliper-swing of an elephant,
                a stride that touched not the earth

                but left perfect wheels
                upon the ground, a step that echoed

                across the plateau, a step that
                levelled mountain paths, each step

                that lead to happy lands,
                each step sprung from past lotuses

                of love and stable intention,
                that rendered demons powerless

                that calmed all view, that evanesced
                the darkness and stopped the

                endless endless rounds; his
                walk outshone the distant stars,

                his walk becalmed the rulers;
                the walk spontaneous, the walk

                omniscient, the walk mindful
                of every ancient step, with such a gait

                the Bodhisattva set out
                for the Seat of Awakening

 

from the Arya Lalita Vistara Nama Mahayana Sutra – the life story of the Buddha – originally using the words from the translation by the Dharmachakra Translation 84000 Committee which is freely available online here (for which thank you, thank you) and then other words once my gaze had settled into the image; the ‘Nairañjanā’ is the river by which the Buddha practised his austerities, the ‘food’ was that given to him by Sujata

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

Buddha wormhole: Sujātā
echo wormhole: so, how long is, a piece of string?
light wormhole: The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford – Sky
path wormhole: alabaster balustrade
power wormhole: in turgid reflection
river wormhole: Great Bridge, Rouen, 1896
stars wormhole: 11/1 by William Carlos Williams
walking wormhole: Valentine’s Day 2019

 

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the turtle and the yoke

10 Tuesday Apr 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

2017, 8*, arrogance, benefit, blindness, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, breathing, facade, faith, glamour, honesty, kleshas, laziness, meditation, ocean, potential, practice, rebirth, self-indulgent, spontaneity, talking to myself, turtle, voices, windows

                the turtle and the yoke

                here is something cold-sweaty
                and uncomfortable to face –
                so much potential, so little use –

                seduced by the whispers of maybe
                I am arrogant, I am lazy, I am
                self-indulgent; they advance

                tempting as bright sweeties
                unchecked by doesn’t-really-
                matter and giddy spontaneity

                facing them will not be entertaining
                or glamourous or noble, it
                won’t even feel good

                but that it would magnify
                longer term benefits if I simply persisted;
                but I have such weak and

                feckless faith: the befuddled
                turtle disturbs the sea-bed slow-motion
                it is time to rise to take the breath

                when civic façade fades to window,
                but there is so much ocean,
                I cannot see which way is up

                but trust to hope and buoyancy
                that it could be
                that this time will place my neck

                in the life-yoke brightly adrift
                about the shoreless sea, to realise
                I could be a radiant being

 

Bodhisattvacharyavatara IV, 20

 

from … Human Life is Extremely Hard to Find, by Geshe Sonam Rinchen; full article found: HERE

A blind turtle lives on the ocean bed and surfaces just once every hundred years. A golden yoke floats on the vast ocean, blown here and there by the wind. What are the chances of the turtle surfacing at just the right time and in just the right place to be able to put its head through the yoke? Our chances of gaining a life of freedom and fortune are just as improbable. You may think it couldn’t possibly be so difficult, but cyclic existence is like a vast and stormy ocean and we are like the turtle that spends most of its time in the depths and only surfaces very occasionally. For most of our lives we have been in bad rebirths and it happens only very rarely that we emerge from these into a good rebirth.

The yoke is made of gold and is therefore heavy, so it often sinks and is invisible. The yoke symbolizes the teachings of an enlightened one. An age of illumination is a period dur­ing which an enlightened one has taught in the world and those teachings are still extant, but there are much longer dark periods of time when the world is without such teachings.

The yoke does not remain in one place but is blown here and there by the wind. Similarly the teachings first flourish in one country and then in another. They thrive where people take an interest in practicing them and die out when they cease to be alive in people’s hearts. Sometimes the turtle comes up to the surface but in a place where there is no golden yoke. This is like taking a good rebirth but having no access to the teachings.

The turtle must actually put its head into the yoke, which signifies that the only way into the teachings is by taking refuge in the Three Jewels. Our lack of interest in the teachings and our reluctance to engage with them is due to our lack of intelligence, which is like the turtle’s blindness. No matter what good circumstances we enjoy, our life is not truly fortunate and free from obstacles if we have no interest in the Buddha’s teachings.

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

breathing wormhole: where did the silence go
meditation wormhole: may the supreme and precious jewel bodhichitta … // … take birth where it has not yet done so … // … where it has taken birth may it not decrease … // … but may it increase infinitely
practice wormhole: ‘still …’
talking to myself wormhole: next unexpected step
voices wormhole: Sheffield Park Gardens
windows wormhole: quiet river

 

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stuck in lower realm

08 Sunday Apr 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2017, 6*, anatta, Bodhisattva Vow, Bodhisattvacharyavatara, buffalo, choice, identity, karma, lifetimes, morality, perfect human rebirth, perspective, rebirth, self, self-containment, snake, spontaneity, thought

                stuck in lower realm

                … OK

                when in woeful state
                I grunt like a buffalo
                and sting like a snake

                but when human
                I have the choice
                to exercise: I – won’t –

                do – that; except the
                swarm ‘oh, it doesn’t
                matter’ or the won’t-

                think-but-lunge-in-
                thrill-of-spontaneity;
                every time I acquiesce

                I create propensity to
                tip to wrong perspective,
                which predisposition

                magnifies as a whole
                realm of being after
                this human is done;

                but for a silent vow
                I made despite my-
                selves and which I

                keep despite myself
                to hold myself to check,
                is my only identity

 

Bodhisattvacharyavatara VII, 19

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

identity wormhole: growth
lifetimes wormhole: looking ahead
thought wormhole: turned backs of saddened victory

 

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sharpened apex

22 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

2016, 6*, Alhambra, apex, belief, colour, dimension, emptiness, faces, gap, Granada, hierarchy, hope, line, seeing, simultaneity, space, spontaneity, sublime, water, white

                I am sorry Alhambra
                I just didn’t like you much

                I wanted to, I always have the
                soft spot for the yawning gap

                and I wanted to hope that
                there was sublimity in your

                finest white line that
                proceeds in simultaneity,

                its exponential spaces
                spontaneous to behold: colour

                dimension, the faces of beings
                the trickle of water between;

                I saw it all but it was
                too demonstrable to see

                a monument to yet another
                hideous hierarchy and

                yet another shaved and
                sharpened apex

 

part of the pyramidical melange of: Granada & Other Poems

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

emptiness & space wormhole: lack of center
faces & white wormhole: ‘when travelling astrally …’
seeing wormhole: frame
water wormhole: next unexpected step

 

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enough

10 Saturday Oct 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

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Tags

2013, being, emptiness, identity, letting go, non-doing, spontaneity, trust, writing

 

 

 

                                     trusting
                                     enough
                           to the space between the ruled lines
                           to let them fill with what they will
                           through my not getting in their way with
                                     syntax and
                                     revision

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

being wormhole: Office in a Small City, 1953
emptiness wormhole: practice
identity wormhole: disappear
letting go & writing wormhole: “write, let’s break outta here!”

 

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NOW!!!

10 Thursday Oct 2013

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

2012, 7*, age, awareness, being, creativity, doing, identity, letting go, life, play, pointlessness, sitting, spontaneity, superhero, talking to myself, teaching, the Atom, waves, writing, zazen

 

 

 

                                   I don’t play
                           enough now I’m fifty two
                                   spent forty four years
                           being super-heroic in a hundred
                                   secret ways to prove my
                                   authenticity

                                   way too serious
                           leaves me vulnerable – aghh
                                   someone caught a glimpse of me
                                   without my costume
                           weakening … me … can’t … uhh
                                   stand up
                                   must get … away
                           grit teeth r-treet
                                   mst bebyemslf

                                   and I don’t play
                                              spon
                                   I am not eous
           tan
                                                  c       r       e
                                                e    I am not   a
                                                  v       i       t

                 anywhere

 

 

                                                                                                            near
                                   as much
                                   or as often
                                   as I should
                                              be

                                                      when I sit I get all Ray Palmer-ish
                                   or hypnagogic
                           when I write I get all sizeist or structuralist
                                   or intimidated into block
                           when I teach I am locked down in the tragedy
                                   EVEN WHILE I SLEEP

                           I should sit
                           I should write
                           I should teach but

                                   nowhere near
                                   asuptightlyasIdo

                                              … so
                                   what do we want?

                           spontaneity creativity happiness relaxed alert sharp skipping smiley persistent retiring accommodating attention

                                              in what I am doing

                                   when do we want it?

                   NOW!!!

                                              all the time
                                   as it waves and troughs
                                              throughout the day

                                   not thrilled by bits
                                              not resentful of pieces
                                   holding all with attention

                                   holding all with attention
                                   and write something fucking
                                              happy for a change

                                                              start
                                   taking notice of everything
                                              you aware

                                                              start
                                   luxuriating and moving on
                                              simultaneously

                                              look at wood
                                              smell the air
                                              and always
                                              always move on

                                              don’t dwell
                                              anywhere
                                              making it
                                              superheroic

                                              and even when you do
                                   don’t make it a biggie
                                   give yourself
                                              a slightly exaggerated ‘tut’
                                   and look at the thing
                                              you are looking at and …

                                              drop

 

 

 

————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–

awareness & identity & teaching wormhole: dream / career
being & doing & writing wormhole: grey sky
creativity wormhole: Apologia
letting go wormhole: it is knowing what to drop once / everything has been collected together / that makes everything fit
life wormhole: the Schmuck and the Facilitators
play wormhole: at hand
pointlessness wormhole: snow
sitting wormhole: every time ambition / breathes
superhero wormhole: anatta
talking to myself & zazen wormhole: my job
waves wormhole: in the gem shop / on the pier

 

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… Mark; remember …

"... the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful; it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe to find ashes." ~ Annie Dillard

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  • Bodhisattvacharyavatara
    • Chapter 1
    • Chapter 10
    • Chapter 2
    • Chapter 3
    • Chapter 4
    • Chapter 5
    • Chapter 6
    • Chapter 7
    • Chapter 8
    • Chapter 9
    • Introduction
  • collected works
    • 25th August 1981 – count Up
    • askance From Hell
    • Batman
    • Bob 1995-2012
    • David Bowie Movements in Suite Major
    • Edward Hopper: Poems at an Exhibition
    • Eglinton Hill
    • FLOORBOARDS
    • Granada
    • in and out / the Avebury stones / can’t seem to get / a signal …
    • Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters]
    • Miller’s Batman
    • mum
    • nan
    • Portsmouth – Southsea
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • The Boats of Vallisneria by Michael J. Redford
    • through the crash
  • index
    • #A-E see!
    • F–K, wha’ th’
    • L-P 33 1/3 rpm
    • Q-T pie
    • U-Z together forever
  • me
  • others
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • William Carlos Williams
  • wormholes

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