COMPASSION
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Poetry
DRINK YOUR TEA
Drink your tea slowly and reverently,
as if it is the axis
on which the world earth revolves
– slowly, evenly, without
rushing toward the future;
Live the actual moment.
Only this moment is life.
Thich Nhat Hahn
Elsewhere
Japan
Shinbazu Pond –
even these withered lotuses
can lift my heart
heated toilet seat –
memories of growing up
in a large family
deep-fried pork:
I await instructions
on how to eat it
we look through the dark
to the place where Mount Fuji
is supposed to be
arrival in Kyoto…
I buy flowers for myself
flowers for the Buddha
the clunk of wooden sandals
on stone paving –
Mount Otowa
thatched with water reeds
topped with acer leaves –
Basho-an the poet’s hut
further uphill
autumn birdsong leads the way –
Buson’s grave
wandering poet’s well its stone collar lotus
dusk over the city two small girls in flowery kimono
Japan has been extracted from Maeve O’Sullivan’s latest publication Elsewhere
available from Alba Publishing.
Dubliner Mave O’Sullivan’s poetry and haiku have been widely published, anthologised and translated.
Her four collections are Elsewhere (2017); Initial Response, An A-Z of haiku moments (2011); Vocal Chords (2014); and Double Rainbow (2005) all available at Alba Publishing
Maeve is a winner of the Listowel Writers’ Week poetry competition for a single poem, and conducts haiku workshops with adults and children.
A lecturer in Media Studies, she lives in Dublin
Maeve’s new collection of poetry, Elsewhere is available from Alba Publishing.
ODE TO MANCHESTER
The blood of Irish, Catholic immigrants
And Russian, Jewish refugees
Flows through the veins of this Buddhist nun,
A seeker of wisdom, compassion and peace,
Whose path has encircled the world and alights
Now in Edinburgh, where it has stayed.
But my heart cries out for Manchester,
For Manchester where I was made.
And I weep to see your suffering,
Caused by minds deluded by hate,
Yet tears of sadness are mixed with pride,
Seeing what makes my hometown so great.
Strength and kindness in adversity,
That brave, indomitable spirit,
Bred by love that welcomes diversity,
All embellished with pithy, street wit.
Mancunia, Mancunia!
That fortress of northern souls,
Your red brick streets and fields of dreams,
Bear witness to impossible goals.
In grief we stand united,
United we’ll rise from the ruins,
Like so many who’ve gone before us,
For in Manchester, that’s how we do things.
by Ani Rinchen Khandro, AKA Jackie Glass, Mancunian.
A Muslim comforts an elderly Jewish woman (Independent News)
TO A POET A THOUSAND YEARS HENCE
I who am dead a thousand years,
And wrote this sweet archaic song,
Send you my words for messengers
The way I shall not pass along.
I care not if you bridge the seas,
Or ride secure the cruel sky,
Or build consummate palaces
Of metal or of masonry.
But have you wine and music still,
And statues and a bright-eyed love,
And foolish thoughts of good and ill,
And prayers to them who sit above?
How shall we conquer? Like a wind
That falls at eve our fancies blow,
And old Moeonides the blind
Said it three thousand years ago.
O friend unseen, unborn, unknown,
Student of our sweet English tongue,
Read out my words at night, alone:
I was a poet, I was young.
Since I can never see your face,
And never shake you by the hand,
I send my soul through time and space
To greet you. You will understand.
James Elroy Flecker was educated at Dean Close School, Cheltenham, where his father was headmaster, and at Uppingham and Trinity College, Oxford.
After university he joined the Diplomatic Service, spending time in Constantinople and Beirut. In 1913 he went to Switzerland to seek a cure for his tuberculosis but died there two years later at the age of 31.
Remember
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you planned:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Rossetti, 1830 – 1894
Maeve O’Sullivan.
Morning Silence, haiku from Dónal Creedon’s Tullow Retreat, August 2018
discarded crisp bag:
a faded Mr. Tayto
still smiling
***
talk about listening I zone out for a bit
***
walking meditation:
you are moving slowly too
little ladybird
***
morning silence the brewing coffee gurgles
***
early drizzle
creating a round stain
in this concrete pantheon
***
August afternoon
a sunburst spotlights
the weeping willow
***
disturbed picture frame:
the window & horse-chestnut
nodding yes, yes, yes
***
last morning more distance between sitters
White Heat
(for Lama Tsering)
Just like the moon which shines upon us all,
enlightened beings’ blessings are on tap;
says our dear teacher who has us in thrall
this week in Braga, resting hands on lap.
In forty-two degrees we soon will melt
into our mats and cushions, from the heat;
though we imagine that we’re not in hell
but in the realm with Amitaba’s seat.
White Tara deity we will invoke
as long as many mantras are said;
Chenrezig figure’s also white light soaked
compassion dominating both their heads.
With wisdom and a twinkle in his eye
our Rinpoche instructs us how to die.
Maeve O’Sullivan
August 2018
Bodhicharya Summercamp, Braga, Portugal
Dubliner Mave O’Sullivan’s poetry and haiku have been widely published, anthologised and translated.
Her four collections are Elsewhere (2017); Initial Response, An A-Z of haiku moments (2011); Vocal Chords (2014); and Double Rainbow (2005) all available at Alba Publishing
She is a winner of the Listowel Writers’ Week poetry competition for a single poem, and conducts haiku workshops with adults and children.
A lecturer in Media Studies, she lives in Dublin
Maeve’s new collection of poetry, Elsewhere is available from Alba Publishing. A review will follow in the next edition of Many Roads
Existence
It is night.
Rain pelts the roof.
The soul awakens
to a flooded Earth –
a sea of storm
roaring,
then passing.
In that short moment,
shirting lines and shapes,
fleetingl
barely seen.
Before the passing moment tilts
and falls to melancholy,
laughter sojnds
in quiet raindrops.
Thich Nhat Hanh
Reasons to Meditate
to practice noticing
to understand simple things
to give myself clarity
to face inevitable difficulties
to make a conscious choice
to welcome my feelings
to know pain
to experience the bliss of effort
to take gentle possession of my mind
to free my mind
to be aware of my sinsitivity
to dip below superficiality
to brighten my eyes
to forget how i look
to stop moving
to let myself be how i am
to love deeply
to risk being myself
to sit upright like a pyramid
to stay still
to breathe in the air
to encourage a positive habit
t o behave in the manner of one who woke up
to pursue freedom
to touch the ground
to learn without words
to unlock my heart
to go beyond
Lisa Cullen
Lisa Cullen writes: Two women are waiting on a packed train platform in Calcutta. One of the moment is hunched over reading The Spiral Dance. The other is absorbed in biting her fingernails. A cow ambles by. A rickshaw driver is arguing with a naked sadhu. A Tibetan woman is selling bone malas.
“Which character am I?”
Zen Poetry
Summer grasses:
all that remains of great soldiers’
imperial dreams
– Basho
O Snail,
Climb Mount Fuji
But slowly, slowly!
K.Isha
” I have not heard of a single Buddha, past or present,
who has been enlightened by sacred prayers
and scriptures.”
– Bassui
The wind has settled, the blossoms have fallen;
Birds sing, the mountains grow dark –
This is the wondrous power of Buddhism.
– Ryokan
The nature of the Mind when understood,
No human speech can compass or disclose.
Enlightenment is naught to be attained,
And he that gains it does not say he knows.
– Huang Po
Poem
Sitting cross legged on a wooden floor
above the tiny desk, pine branches hang in rain
before my eyes thru glass – a drop falls from the roof edge
broken earth here, pebbles brought from afar scattered
by white treestump, green grass Crowds the path –
Grey streaks my beard, I began sitting quiet
lately, but it’s too late to read Lankavatara,
Surangama, Diamond and ten thousand sutras –
bald head holds no Chinese, Sanskrit, Japanese,
and now Rheumatism twinges my Knees ehn I walk –
Well, with such pines hung in grey sky
I still must be Buddha here – If not
who am I?
May 3, 1971
Praise to Tara
Praise to Tara
Homage to The Three Jewels
Homage to Guru, Deva and Dakini
Homage to you Tara, who bloom with love and compassion
Homage to you Tara, who dwell in wisdom and certainty
Look how you tend to pain and ease the afflictions of all
Look how you protect from dangers and lift the downtrodden
Look how you subdue all negativities and place beings in happiness and joy
Your enlightened form is shining with beauty
Like a 16 year old maiden in her bloom
Draped in silks, adorned with precious jewels
You appear in glittering rainbow colours
Your mind and heart is the union of ancient wisdom and eternal love
Manifesting here and now for the benefit of all
With Amitaba’s light sparkling in the topknot of your hair
You are sure to lead us to the pure lands
Tara, I take refuge in you, please protect and uplift me
Help me to be useful in my life, to really benefit myself and others
Help me to transform every negativity
And bring forth every good quality
Just like you have done
Your tiara shines in splendour
The five poisons having blossomed into their full potential
Let me become a wisdom holder just like that
Your left hand holds three precious Upala flowers, blue like the sky
In honour of the enlightened ones of the three times
Praise to all who have realized the unsurpassable Bodhicitta
Your right hand is in the mudra of giving
Whatever beings need and long for
Always pure, joyful, natural and relaxed in your nature
You rest on a beautiful lotus and moon disc
Your measureless intelligence and compassion shining out in all directions
Tara, compassionate guide of beings
Take me by the hand, help me avoid the lesser paths
Lead me to the higher realms of peace and love
Include me in your mandala of ambrosia so freely given
Let it flow through me and – as if by magic – on to all beings
Who are of the same nature, inseparable from love and light
And let them too become fearless and free like you
Tara, great protector
By the power of vows, interdependence and all our merit
Protect us from being imprisoned by negative circumstances
Protect us from losing our way, protect us from outer calamities
And the inner misfortune of being overwhelmed by negative emotions
By our devotion, remove the veils that hinder clear seeing
Remove the obstacle of ill will and negative actions
Remove the obstacle of clinging to ego and transient things that cannot be relied upon
Remove the obstacle of getting caught in the snares of the world
Remove the obstacle of denigrating others
Remove the obstacle of not understanding how precious we are
Help us to realize the empty nature of phenomena and rest in
The blissful Bodhicitta that is the source of every useful thing
Noble Tara, compassionate mother of beings
Inspire us to be like you
Fearless in suppressing poisonous negativity
Inexhaustible in positive actions for others
Always victorious, joyful and immeasurably kind
By our devotion, please send your blessings
In your white aspect, you grant prosperity, comfort, long life and peace
In your green aspect, you remove obstacles on the path
and show the way of enlightened activity
With your left foot extended, you are always ready to act for beings in need
In all your aspects you are master of skills and medicine
Endowed with power to cure the ills of the living
Tara, compassionate and nurturing one
As long as our devotion remains
Mature us in your nectar of boundless compassion, wisdom and love
Let us understand it to be our own nature
Help us gain confidence in the view
Help us rest assured that it is so
Help us to be inseparable from you
Om Tare Tuttare Ture Svaha
From Heidi Trondsen KTL sangha in Norway, working for Shenpen Tibet Aid in India and Nepal.
The Buddha’s Master Plan
Beneath the sea of glistening stars,
Between the ethereal evening air,
Lies a forest of glowing dreams,
But as diverse and rich as they are,
None escape the same Moonbeam.
Under the lucent morning glow,
Roll waves of raving emotions,
Turbid fortunes and cruel woes,
The burning craving of billions,
Yet the same Sun illumes them all.
Princes, beggars and pretenders,
All dance their own tango with
Fortune’s jeering taunts and tantrums,
Each gambles to grapple with fate,
But upon the same soil they all tread.
The crown of a grand old oak
Casts a wide and mighty shadow,
Ruffling with a myriad of leaves,
Adorned by blooming blossoms
That sprout in spring and wither in winter,
With branches amber in autumn,
Green in summer, and lean and bare
In Saturn’s season of barren frost.
Yet for all its lush richness, it still rests
Upon one abiding unchanging trunk.
So even as human affairs steer here and there,
And wander and meander like wetland streams,
The timeless source remains the same,
For all ripe fruits return to Buddha’s root.
It is often asked why it is said that there are 84,000 different Dharma-doors (i.e. innumerable forms of Dharma). The answer is simple: Sentient beings are complex and have innumerable biases, different spiritual levels and varying aspirations. Thus, it is not possible for one fixed form of teaching to suffice by itself.
Therefore, the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas have not only spoken a rich collection of different Sutras, but have also manifested as the Sages and founders of different religions in order to teach those who could not yet accept the Buddha-dharma.
According to the Ven. Master Hsuan Hua:
“In Buddhism, he (Guanyin Bodhisattva) appears as a Bodhisattva; in other religions he often appears clad in white robes. In Christianity, he is the Holy Mother; he appears as the Holy Mother to teach and transform a certain category of beings. He appears in white robes and Christians call her Mother Mary, but actually she is Guanshiyin Bodhisattva manifesting in that form to inspire beings to bring forth a resolve that will lead them sooner or later to understand the Buddhadharma. Once they understand the Buddhadharma, they will bring forth the resolve for Bodhi. These are the endless miraculous functions and inconceivable states of Guanshiyin Bodhisattva.”
-Ven Master Hsuan Hua’s 1996 Lecture “Guanyin, Guanyin, Guanshiyin” (Translated by the BTTS).
Remember by Christina Rossetti
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann’d:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
♥
Haiku, Chögyam Trungpa
The beginner in meditation
Resembles a hunting dog
having a bad dream
۞
His parents are having tea
With his new girlfriend –
Like a general inspecting his troops.
۞
Skiing in a red and blue outfit,
Drinking cold beer with a lovely smile –
I wonder if I’m one of them?
۞
Coming home from work,
Still he hears the phone
Ringing in his office.
۞
Gentle day’s flower –
The hummingbird competes
with the stillness of the air.
Chögyam Trungpa
FLAGS
Flags are separate symbols
that blow and wave, unfurl,
express our pretensions that
we, too, are separate,
country from country
body from body, mind from mind.
Our bars of belief and superstition
have bound us and in thrall to habit
we are ready to kill in the name of a priest,
an imam, a language, a symbol that flutters in the wind.
We must belong, see ourselves as having kinship
with others to protect from the draw of the jungle,
the real division from our true selves
that lies deep down in our true nature.
World Peace Flag
Why is there, one must ask, this division—the Russian, the American, the British, the French, the German, and so on—why is there this division between man and man, between race and race, culture against culture, one series of ideologies against another? Why?
Where is there this separation? Man has divided the earth as yours and mine—why? Is it that we try to find security, self-protection, in a particular group, or in a particular belief, faith? For religions also have divided man, put man against man—the Hindus, the Muslims, the Christians, the Jews and so on.
Nationalism, with its unfortunate patriotism, is really a glorified form, an ennobled form, of tribalism. In a small tribe or in a very large tribe there is a sense of being together, having the same language, the same superstitions, the same kind of political, religious system. And one feels safe, protected, happy, comforted. And for that safety, comfort, we are willing to kill others who have the same kind of desire to be safe, to feel protected, to belong to something.
This terrible desire to identify oneself with a group, with a flag, with a religious ritual and so on gives us the feeling that we have roots, that we are not homeless wanderers. – Krishnamurti, Krishnamurti to Himself, pp 59-60
FROM: WHEN SNOW MOUNTAINS WEAR BLACK HATS
May the blessings of the exalted sources of refuge,
The Buddha, Dharma and Sangha, the Three Jewels
And the Lama Yidam and Protectors, the three Roots,
Pacify the terrors of illness, famine, war
And chaos in the elements: the temperatures
Unbalanced, grand snow mountains – hard firm glaciers –
Will melt and disappear. Rivers and lakes
Will become parched, so the primeval forests
And trees of beauty too, will near their deaths.
There is the terrifying danger the world’s reaches
Will become a great wasteland. May these imminent
Dangers be fully extinguished, and sublime
Good fortune and happiness spread all around.
May all beings nurture one another lovingly
And kindly, so their joy may fully blossom.
May all their aims be fulfilled, in accordance with the dharma.
Requested by John Stanley
Composed by Kanchen Thrangu Rinpoche
Translated by David Karma Chopel.
At Thrangu Monastery Kathmandu, Nepal 2006
From ‘When Snow Mountains Wear Black Hats – A Buddhist Response to Global Warming’. J. Stanley D. R. Loy, G.Dorje Prajna Press , Ireland 2008.
love Annie