• 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
    • Spring Warwick breezes / over Bacharach fieldwork and boroughs with / the occasional shift and chirp of David / in the pastel-long morning of the sixties
    • 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
    • William Carlos Williams
  • poemics
  • poeviews
  • teaching matters
  • wormholes

mlewisredford

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

mlewisredford

Tag Archives: Woodbrooke

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

09 Thursday Feb 2017

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

2013, 8*, being, Bodhichitta, breathing, circular poem, colour, difficulty, distraction, doing, eyes, identity, jewel, letting go, life, lost, meditation, prayer, putting out, seeing, self, singing, sitting, stone, talking to myself, tired, voices, Woodbrooke

                             difficulty comes
                        unfitting perfectly to
                          each situation

may the supreme and precious jewel bodhichitta …

                                                                                    t
                                                                                          i
                                                          a big fat ball                  r
                                         all I see is                       with odd       e
                                    or above it                              spicy bits       d
                                        round it                              fills up
                                        I can’t see                       my being
                                                        closes my eyes

… take birth where it has not yet done so …

                                 the fuzz and static
      drowned out by                                 and the tiny shiny
        before being                                      coloured stones
of determination                                          mixed in and
         sing a voice                                       mostly lost which
             surface and                                 sometimes
                                      work to the

                                                                        is not me
                                                                        is not the self
                                                                        standing sitting or sleeping
                                                            and always always breathing

… where it has taken birth may it not decrease …

                                                                        I can’t put out
                                                            I miss the point or miss the opportunity
                                                                        every time I venture
                                                or hold back

                                                                        I have loads to offer
                                                            but no receptacle
                                                            far better to sit
                                                improve my aim

… but may it increase infinitely

                                                                                    I get so much more
                                                                                    done by just being
                                                                                    without knowing it
                                                                                    without knowing –
                                                                                    even – about it

                                                                                    I think I’ll just
                                                                                    offer my being
                                                                                    from now on
                                                                                    and not try to
                                                                                    do anything to be

 

 

 

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

being & doing & life wormhole: ‘never look up’?
Bodhichitta & eyes & seeing wormhole: so pleased to see you again
breathing & sitting & talking to myself wormhole: breathing out
circular poem wormhole: everwhile
distraction & meditation wormhole: within
identity & stone wormhole: Open – All – Ours
letting go wormhole: comfy
voices wormhole: what wounds have you got?

Advertisement

Rate this:

… the discipline of shamatha / the waft of vipashyana

29 Tuesday Dec 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

'scape, 2013, Bournville, carillon, chimney, communication, constancy, direction, drops, glass, gutter, moss, rain, roof, seeing, shamatha-vipashyana, sky, sound, time, trees, wind, windows, Woodbrooke

 

staying at Woodbrooke again for a short break, I need to celebrate by posting one of my favourite poems, written here, again …

 

 

                the frame stays constant

                the trees tall and wave
                in constant negotiation
                with the drifting sky
                the Bournville Carillon
                strikes ten in all directions
                some faint some bong

                a telephone wire draped
                from a chimney to a ridge
                like a skipping rope and
                the constant run-off onto
                gutters despite the moss

                the frame has ghost-shifted
                double but remains constant
                the pane is not seen at all

                until I notice the drops run
                and then the frame snaps clear
                and c – o – n – s – t – a – n – t

                such useful things: windows …

                … the discipline of shamatha
                the waft of vipashyana

 

 

 

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

chimney wormhole: the breath of London
communication wormhole: currency: / assent for statement – / ‘smakin’alivvin’
glass & sky & sound & windows wormhole: the silent night of the Batman
rain wormhole: south horizon
roof wormhole: library: start where you are IV // all the distance I have travelled!
seeing wormhole: out!
shamatha-vipashyana wormhole: Do Nothing Usually / Take Everything Regularly / Consider It All Clearly / And Step Aside It Waltzingly
time wormhole: if left alone
trees wormhole: new garden
wind wormhole: Hotel Room, 1931

 

Rate this:

crumpled / notebooks / at the end of a gentle retreat

11 Sunday Jan 2015

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

2014, 5*, being, conservatory, floorboards, lemon, lime, listening, living, notebook, retreat, seeing, sitting, sound, sun, Woodbrooke, writing

 

 

 

                           crumpled
                           notebooks
                      at the end of a gentle retreat

                           room emptied
                      all the bits and pieces of living
                           packed away
                           paid up
                           loaded

                           sun
                      picks the sides of the swivel armchairs like
                           lemon curd and
                           lime marmalade
                      and tools are picked up and replaced on the wooden flooring
                           in the conservatory

                           with particular intricacy

 

 

 

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

being & sun wormhole: right to be
conservatory wormhole: in the middle of silence and heat:
lemon wormhole: hint
lime wormhole: introducing / the stranger
listening wormhole: new year’s eve 2014; train up to London to / walk the bridges across the Thames, and / listen to the voices say it is, and was, like, / but get back home before the fireworks / obliterate it all in the emptying twilight
living wormhole: lobby
seeing wormhole: Kirby’s landscapes
sitting wormhole: Buddha Amitabha
sound wormhole: silence
writing wormhole: tag cloud poem VIII – growth

 

Rate this:

the en-gentled / end of a wan / writing retreat

20 Sunday Apr 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

'scape, 2014, 6*, ambition, avoidance, awareness, being, birds, birdsong, branches, comfort, courage, ground, groundlessness, growth, honesty, identity, letting go, passing, reading, retreat, roots, sitting, trees, wind, Woodbrooke, writing

 

 

 

                                              the en-gentled
                                              end of a wan
                                              writing retreat

                                              OK
                                I didn’t write anything
I could write (because I think I’m clever with words and could wave and flurry about in leans and reaches quite beautifully
                but saying nothing
                really in the end)

                                              but
                                there is something I’m not facing
something that would root me deep in the ground that I reach from that all the movement would strengthen
                to grow and
                eventually flower

                                              it is
                                the plan to write (and read and sit)
because I have travelled miles to be and committed space to see which has blown the idea
                clean like a branch
                crooked to the landscape

                                              when I
                                become awkward with sitting
(wafted with reading, empty when writing) I know (if I am honest) I have lost the courage
                to own the mismatch of
                my comfort and growth

                                              I could
                                write amidst the wind and lurch
perched cross-toed and angled to the branch gloriously noting gusts of word and thought
                and singing oblivious
                for all to see     maybe

 

 

 

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

awareness wormhole: what to do
being wormhole: ‘til death do us part
birds wormhole: multifarious: the Dark Knight Returns (1986)
branches wormhole: the edges of my reach
groundlessness wormhole: 1966
identity & letting go & sitting 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
passing & trees wormhole: prologue
reading wormhole: “I think I’ll have a nice sandwich”
wind wormhole: … sshhh
writing wormhole: doing

 

Rate this:

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

18 Friday Apr 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

2013, 8*, being, Bodhichitta, breathing, circular poem, colour, difficulty, distraction, doing, eyes, identity, jewel, letting go, life, lost, meditation, prayer, putting out, seeing, self, singing, sitting, stone, talking to myself, tired, voices, Woodbrooke

                             difficulty comes
                        unfitting perfectly to
                          each situation

may the supreme and precious jewel bodhichitta …

                                                                                    t
                                                                                          i
                                                          a big fat ball                  r
                                         all I see is                       with odd       e
                                    or above it                              spicy bits       d
                                        round it                              fills up
                                        I can’t see                       my being
                                                        closes my eyes

… take birth where it has not yet done so …

                                 the fuzz and static
      drowned out by                                 and the tiny shiny
        before being                                      coloured stones
of determination                                          mixed in and
         sing a voice                                       mostly lost which
             surface and                                 sometimes
                                      work to the

                                                                        is not me
                                                                        is not the self
                                                                        standing sitting or sleeping
                                                            and always always breathing

… where it has taken birth may it not decrease …

                                                                        I can’t put out
                                                            I miss the point or miss the opportunity
                                                                        every time I venture
                                                or hold back

                                                                        I have loads to offer
                                                            but no receptacle
                                                            far better to sit
                                                improve my aim

… but may it increase infinitely

                                                                                    I get so much more
                                                                                    done by just being
                                                                                    without knowing it
                                                                                    without knowing –
                                                                                    even – about it

                                                                                    I think I’ll just
                                                                                    offer my being
                                                                                    from now on
                                                                                    and not try to
                                                                                    do anything to be

 

 

 

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

being & breathing & doing wormhole: doing
circular poem wormhole: the Avengers
distraction wormhole: open window
eyes & identity wormhole: vagued
letting go & talking to myself wormhole: multifarious: the Dark Knight Returns (1986)
life wormhole: my life is not your market
meditation wormhole: only
seeing wormhole: heavy load
sitting wormhole: gazing at the night / as my eyes passed the jagged hole / my head disappeared
stone wormhole: quest in brown
voices wormhole: still there // above the / Dallin Road / allotments / looking high over the river and the city

 

Rate this:

Woodbrooke labyrinth / affirmations

14 Tuesday Jan 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

2012, 7*, acceptance, affirmations, being, communication, doing, emergence, growth, identity, others, sitting, talking to myself, Woodbrooke, world

 

 

 

                                              maze at Woodbrooke*
                                                         affirmations

                I do know stuff even though no one else sees it
                I do know stuff even though no one else gets it
                I do know stuff even though I cannot explain it
                                              to others
                                              that they can hear

                I don’t have to put my stuff into the world
                I don’t have to make it work in the world
                I don’t have to make a change in the world
                                for it to be legitimate

                                in fact it’s better that I don’t even try

                                I should sit content and slightly shaking-head
                                              and even a little warmly
                                              in the centre
                                              for awhile
                                              every lifetime
                                              every day
                                              every second
                                and leave myself at the entrance
                                              awkward and anxious
                                              and see if he is still there
                                                              when I return

 

 

* Woodbrooke Quaker Study Centre, Birmingham; they have a maze there on the back lawn

 

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

acceptance wormhole: both
being wormhole: the ocean
communication wormhole: :just wondering …
doing & talking to myself wormhole: should // be // aware
emergence wormhole: “so …”
identity wormhole: the cheaper seats
others wormhole: my job
sitting wormhole: window open
world wormhole: where is there a Middle Way when you want one … / … / … oh!?

 

Rate this:

… the discipline of shamatha / and the waft of vipashyana

02 Thursday Jan 2014

Posted by m lewis redford in poems

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

'scape, 2013, 6*, attention, awareness, Bournville, chimney, drops, glass, gutter, rain, roof, shamatha-vipashyana, sky, sound, telephone lines, time, trees, wind, windows, Woodbrooke

 

 

 

                                the frame stays constant

                                the trees tall and wave
                                in constant negotiation
                                with the drifting sky
                                the Bournville Carillon
                                strikes ten in all directions
                                some faint some bong
                                a telephone wire draped
                                from a chimney to a ridge
                                like a skipping rope and
                                the constant run-off
                                into gutters despite the moss

                                the frame has ghost-shifted
                                double but still remains constant
                                the pane is not seen at all
                                until I notice the drops run
                                and then the frame snaps clear
                                and c – o – n – s – t – a – n – t

                                such useful things: windows …

                                … the discipline of shamatha
                                and the waft of vipashyana

 

 

 

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

attention wormhole: snow
awareness wormhole: tapestry
chimney & rain & sound & wind wormhole: early bed tonight
glass wormhole: Batman 168
roof wormhole: new life
shamatha-vipashyana wormhole: the fall of the curtains / folded on the desktop / and the constant / wondering of airliners
sky wormhole: 1996 dream
time wormhole: :just wondering …
trees wormhole: dream 040198 / Eglinton Hill
windows wormhole: open window

 

Rate this:

… 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

pages coagulating like yogurt

  • 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

recent leaks …

  • “…and may the great elements…”
  • paisley // implicitly
  • this pocketed being
  • the inevitable tock // when we close our eyes
  • time
  • the simple prayer // the tattered poem // the bitter lament
  • taking birth
  • mirror
  • long / road
  • ‘in my car I pass…’

Uncanny Tops

  • me
  • Moebius strip
  • YOUNG WOMAN AT A WINDOW by William Carlos Williams
  • 'in my car I pass...'
  • 'the practice ...'
  • 'I can write ...'
  • like butterflies on / buddleia
  • meanwhile
  • 'hello old friend ...'
  • under the blue and blue sky

category sky

announcements awards embroidery poems poeviews reflectionary teaching

tag skyline

'scape 2* 3* 4* 5* 6* 7* 8* 20th century 1967 1979 1980 2008 2009 2010 2011 2012 2013 2014 2015 2016 2017 2018 2019 acceptance afternoon air Allen Ginsberg anxiety architecture arm in arm attention awareness Batman beach beauty bedroom being birds birdsong black blue Bodhisattvacharyavatara books Bowie branches breakdown breathing breeze brown Buddha buildings career Carol cars change child childhood children city clouds coffee shop colour combe end comics communication compassion compromise crane creativity curtains dancing dark death distraction divorce doing doors dream Dr Strange earth echo Edward Hopper Eglinton Hill emergence emptiness evening eyes faces family father feet field floorboards garden Genesta Road girl giving glass gold grass green grey growth haiku hair hands Have hedge hill hills history holiday hope horizon house houses identity kitchen leaf leaves lemon letting go life lifetimes light lime listening living London looking lost love management managerialism mauve meaning mind mist moon morning mother mouth movement Mum muse music night notice open openness orange others park passing pavement people performance management pink Plumstead poetry pointlessness politics portrait posture power practice professionalism purple purpose quiet rain reaching reading realisation reality red requires chewing river roads roof rooftops samsara sea searching seeing settling shadow shops silence silhouette silver sitting sky skyline sleep smell smile snow society sound space speech step stone streetlight streets sun sunlight superhero table talking talking to myself teaching teaching craft Thames thinking thought time train travelling trees true nature university voices walking walls water waves white William Carlos Williams wind windows wood Woolwich words work world writing years yellow zazen

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,847 other subscribers

... just browsing

  • 49,951 what th'-s

I wander around after this lot a lot …

m’peeps who notice I exist

these things I liked …

A WordPress.com Website.

SoundEagle 🦅ೋღஜஇ

Where The Eagles Fly . . . . Art Science Poetry Music & Ideas

Classic Rock Review

The home of forgotten music...finding old reviews before they're lost....

A Reading Writer

I write because I read. I read because I write.

Buddhism in Daily Life

Buddhist meditation applied to our everyday lives...

Laughter Over Tears

Where books, movies, anger, confusion and musing live together in sin.

Sunra Rainz

Poetry. Art. Photography. Musings.

A girl seeking joy and serenity

Silver Birch Press

Poetry & Prose...from Prompts

whimsy~mimsy

a few words spewing from my soul...

naïve haircuts

The daily addict

The daily life of an addict in recovery

The Sixpence at Her Feet

Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy
  • Follow Following
    • mlewisredford
    • Join 1,847 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • mlewisredford
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar