Nights go like this.
Eyes in the darkness, my late son.
His heartbeat in my night is as strong as iron,
as strong as faith,
not weak like it was at the end,
when it failed him.
I wonder, did my faith fail him?
This world spins,
and so night does not last forever.
It's just long, hard, and empty.
-
It is a heart used to eating large meals,
a heart with its own mouth, its own belly.
In times of poverty this heart suffers,
unused to meals that are slim and seldom.
In starvation the heart hides in shadow,
in nooks and crevices in the rock wall.
The heart, suffering, remembers the feast
where it raised its glass high.
-
California is cold tonight, and it feels like my friends are all a thousand miles away. The clouds are full, it will rain before bedtime. From the stove, the aroma of the chicken I am baking fills the room, forcing the loneliness outside. Good riddance. From the window I can watch the loneliness move down the dark street, walking with head down, hood up, and hands in pockets.
-
james lee jobe
“You won’t understand life and death until you’re ready to set aside any hope of understanding life and death and just live your life until you die.”
― Brad Warner, Zen Wrapped in Karma Dipped in Chocolate: A Trip Through Death, Sex, Divorce, and Spiritual Celebrity in Search of the True Dharma
"At the heart of radical presence is simply the act of love. Loving ourselves, loving others, and allowing that love to be deeply manifested in the world in a real clear way."
Lama Rod Owens, Teachings for Uncertain Times: Recognizing Our Intersectionality
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jlj
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