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#2169 - Thursday, June 9, 2005 - Editor: Jerry Katz


 

 

This issue is a Goddess Sandwich. Mmmmmm. Thin slices of Ireland 'tween thicks of fruity, nutty, grainy heart-iness.

 

Thanks to Martha, Gabriel, and Vicki for these contributions.

 

 

 


 

 

Zen Judaism (contributed by Martha Ramsey)

                    * If there is no self,
                    whose arthritis is this?

                    * Be here now.
                    Be someplace else later.
                    Is that so complicated?

                    * Drink tea and nourish life.
                    With the first sip... joy.
                    With the second... satisfaction.
                    With the third, peace.
                    With the fourth, a danish.

                    * Wherever you go, there you are.
                    Your luggage is another story.

                    * Accept misfortune as a blessing.
                    Do not wish for perfect health
                    or a life without problems.
                    What would you talk about?

                    * The journey of a thousand miles
                    begins with a single "oy".

                    * There is no escaping karma.
                    In a previous life, you never called,
                    you never wrote, you never visited.
                    And whose fault was that?

                    * Zen is not easy.
                    It takes effort to attain nothingness.
                    And then what do you have?
                    Bupkes.

                    * The Tao does not speak.
                    The Tao does not blame.
                    The Tao does not take sides.
                    The Tao has no expectations.
                    The Tao demands nothing of others.
                    The Tao is not Jewish.

                    * Breathe in. Breathe out.
                    Breathe in. Breathe out.
                    Forget this, and attaining Enlightenment
                    will be the least of your problems.

                    * Be patient and achieve all things.
                    Be impatient and achieve all things faster.

                    * To Find the Buddha, look within.
                    Deep inside you are ten thousand flowers.
                    Each flower blossoms ten thousand times.
                    Each blossom has ten thousand petals.
                    You might want to see a specialist.

                    * To practice Zen and the art of Jewish
                    motorcycle maintenance, do the following:
                    get rid of the motorcycle.
                    What were you thinking?

                    * Be aware of your body.
                    Be aware of your perceptions.
                    Keep in mind that not every physical
                    sensation is a symptom of terminal illness.

                    * The Torah says,"Love thy neighbor as thyself.
                    The Buddha says there is no "self."
                    So maybe you are off the hook.

                  * The Buddha taught that one should practice loving
kindness to all sentient beings.
Still, would it kill you to find a nice sentient being
who happens to be Jewish?

 


 

 

 

Gabriel Rosenstock
(Selection from a work in progress)

 

BLIAIN AN BHANDÉ

                             Year of the Goddess

 

 

 

                                    ~

 

One does not often think of the tripartite goddess who gave her name to Ireland -  Éire, Banba, Fódla - not to mention other goddesses who have left their trace on the landscape, Danu of the Paps of Danu for instance.

 

Devotional poetry in India goes by the name of bhakti. In the heel of the hunt, a bhakta does not really adore or pine for any god or  goddess; as with Mirabai’s love affair with Krishna, what is sought is the brightness of eternal brightness, our shared Self.

 

Some words are ‘shaded’ in the text to allow for another reading of a line, or a faint echo, a game much cherished by the Celtic poets of of yore.

 

 

 

Suan

 

Ní thagann orm suan

Nuair nach gcodlaíonn Tusa riamh

Cé eile d’fhairfeadh do dhúiseacht

Ach an té a dhúisigh mé?

 

 

Sleep

 

Sleep does not come to me

You never slumber

Who else to keep watch over Your wakefulness

But the one You awakened?

 

 


 

Mouna – tostdán

 

Tostdán amháin a dhéanfaidh cúis

A raghadh go broinn Do thosta

Sularbh ann do na siollaí

Don mheadaracht

Is don rím

 

Tostdán Do bheith ionam an chéad lá

 

An mhaidin úd nuair nárbh ann ach D’fholt

Sular fhéachas isteach i Do dhá shúil ghorma

 

Sular tháinig D’osnasa chun mo bhéil

 

Mouna – poem of silence

 

Only a poem of silence will suffice

To penetrate the womb of Your silence

Before syllables were created

Metre

Or rhyme

 

The silent poem of my first being in You

 

That morning when there was nothing but Your hair

Before I looked into Your blue eyes

 

Before Your sigh came to my lips

 





 

Iomann

 

Is Tú an neantóg

Is Tú an chopóg

Is Tú an phian

Is tú an balsam

Is Tú an scáth

Is Tú an ghrian

Is Tú an oíche a chlúdaíonn iad go léir

Is eol Duitse go cruinn

Cathain a stopfaidh na héin dá n-iomann

Is nuair a thosnóidh arís

Mar i gciúnas do chroí

Is Tú a chéadchum na nótaí

 

Hymn

 

You are the nettle

You the dock leaf

You the pain

You the balm

You the shade

You the sun

Night that cloaks all

You know precisely

When birds must cease their hymn

And when it will start all over again:

In the silence of Your heart

The notes were first composed

 

 

 

 

Bandia buí

 

Bonsai.

Craptha.

Istigh.

 

Ní chuirfidh sé eolas ar Do bhliain

Ná ar mhí seo na gcaisearbhán

Atá chomh buí sin

Gur buí ar feadh na maidine é

Éamh na bhfaoileán


 

 

 

Goddess in yellow

 

Bonsai.

Stunted.

Within.

 

It will never know Your year

Or this month of dandelions

So yellow

That all morning

Even the cry of seagulls is yellow

 

 


 

 

Vicki Woodyard

 

The Void

Are you allowed more than one leap into the void?  Because I am thinking
that one will never be enough.  Sometimes I stand right on the very edge
of personal eclipse and take a giant leap.  It doesn't take me long to
discover that apparently I am unable to distinguish the void from the
voice in my head. Yadda, yadda, yadda says the would-be jumper.

The void is a terrible place to be, apparently.  No one ever returns to
describe it to us.  Unless they make a movie about it with Drew
Barrymore, no one will ever know.  Some days I am strongly drawn to
jump,  hoping to avoid more of me, myself and I--the eternal triangle.
All we do is fight.

The void cannot be reached nor plumbed.  Bennifer can't go
there....ever.  There are no reruns of the void.  No hand-stamping or
thumb-wrestling can ever get you back in.  Ooh, I'm scared.  What if the
void sneaks up on me while I am asleep or watching Oprah.  Will it wait
while I go tinkle?  I dare it to do its worst.

I usually blame things on my mother or on the related fact that she did
not send me to kindergarten.  All excuses are rejected by the void.  It
is kin to her in that respect.  I should have done more, Mr.
Void....Mrs. Void,  Ms. Void.

Okay, I am running on.  But so does the void.  I must have the last
word......make that....an...echo.....

Vicki Woodyard
http://www.bobwoodyard.com

 

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