This is a commentary on the end of Zen! The collapse of a community, the retirement of a teacher and the impact thereof. About shame, storylines, justifications, the value and the enduring message of a teaching.
It’s a message, and a call again to raise your head and be counted. It’s a story, or a chance to remember there is recovery and there are wounds.
The second part I wrote, as I typed out these lines, a reflection after more years pass, the lives of people I’m still connected to (however abstractly). It’s also about looking back from where you stand- A chance to acknowledge the impact of the past on who we are in this moment.
And as I write this forward, I realise there are many verses yet to write! I have so much more to say and explore and I have only just started to look.
Why…exponential reactions.
There must have been a look, once…
Then the ripples spread from there.
And all the lives you wore, wore out,
Then this war broke out.
Then you broke out,
And the casualties still lie in the wake of your fine strides.
Pulled along behind in your absent vacuum, are all these lives.
Trying to find their place again in the shadow.
Trying to recapture something they shared with you once.
Not there heart in the stillness,
But the fragments you hold your noble head away from.
Not piously or harshly,
Or for lack of duty filled.
But moved away from nonetheless.
And I don’t believe the stories.
I know what your pain was payment for.
Do not be confused about who left.
And who left who, before you turn back and say well,
No one is here.
***
And a score of years later still,
I watch where roots had grown in cracks,
These once young trees,
Now grown, half grown, restricted at the root.
Have need to free those habituated bonds
Perhaps…
Winter ‘14-‘15
“In the end, only three things matter
How much you loved
How gently you lived
and How gracefully you let go of things not meant for you.”
Gautama Buddha.
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