Dharma: the poem

I.J. Hall
January 14, 2004

Here I am at the top of these pages
Resting, willing to record whatever comes--
To listen serenely for the voice of my poetic muse
With whom I have consorted during this past year
In productive ways. She wants some prompting,
An idea, perhaps, to spark her imagination.
She may be still, tranquilly asleep beside me
While I lie, sleepless, yet it’s too early to rise.

The sound I hear is the sound of quiet.
There are no challenging dreams floating
In my half-sleep state. I must recognize
This as a victory of contentment, calmness.
A flaccid pulse brings tidings of internal peace;
There is no longing. This solitary vigil
Feels like a comfortable and happy place
Where anyone else might likewise be content,

So I am content as well, here, alone.
Here is where the center of my Soul is.
Here is where the center of my Universe is
Radiating from this vertex in all directions
With infinite, symmetrical dimensions of equally
Incomprehensible distance. In every direction,
Even through the Core of Earth, as through
My Core of Vision and creative spirit, it reaches.
I see this as a source of limitless possibilities.

Neither is there a limit to my happiness
For it needs no external cause celebre.
It can grow healthy and bloom quite nicely
On its own, thank you, and that is peace.
So in this very passive waiting for inspiration
I have received and transcribed a sublime truth
With the least possible effort. That must be
The way it comes, the erstwhile Messiah,

When you least expect the Second, the third
Or fourth Coming arrives to guide you.
This sense of ease, is a friendliness-
The same sense now in this prone posture
That I felt when touching Buddha’s feet
And hands of so many different, perfect images.

Before I left for tropical Bangkok I questioned:
What would be the one most important event
Or experience to perform on that tourist visit
To make it into a virtuous pilgrimage of sorts?
I thought darshan, letting Buddha’s eyes see me
And me seeing into the eyes of Buddha
As do the Hindu. I learned that is wrong twice:
First it is mixing clumsily religious metaphors,
Second, the Buddha’s eyes in meditation focus inwardly.
I determined to touch as many images as possible,
Whether icon or idol, it mattered little to me
Coming from the outside, there is no difference.
Touching became my neophyte spiritual practice.

I did this in several mundane and sublime ways.
Walking respectfully barefoot on temple floors
Was the most prosaic form of respectful ‘touching.’
Then touching feet and hands of handsome
And beautiful images, mock worship, but in privacy
I placed the gold foil, lit the pleasant incense,
Also candles, placed the lotus bud just so, and Sabbai,
Heard incomprehensible and redundant prayers,
Joined two water celebrations, twice splashed
With water by the Monk’s broom, and rubbed
The oil in my hair. I knelt until my feet hurt,
My knees and legs cramped, holding hands together
Just below my nose, Namaste’ in every greeting.

And all this time being receptive to my feelings
As I had experienced in Constellation settings,
Feeling from the depth of my Soul in sympathy.
It was in those moments of touching when I felt calm,
Friendliness, and acceptance as I share even here
Just lying. Resting, I can recall that contentment,
A pleasant feeling, not exciting but subtle.

I look around my room and am reminded
Of other touching -- bargaining and buying images
Inviting eight more Buddha to join my home.
I see these from every angle, two from here
One Theravada and one Mahayana, images,
Teachers of the same Dharma, one meditating,
One laughing in the rain under his umbrella.

So this special touching was a lesson for me;
Thus have I heard the ‘still, small voice.’
In the same way for others, meditation releases
As adherents progress into intense devotion,
A subjectivity removed from external reality.
I am for now content to be a Naga, “snake”
The Beginner, connected to life. I am before Novice
Still struggling to spell the new words correctly,
Let alone pronounce these or use Sanskrit;
I barely manage common English usages.

I am just stepping barefoot over the threshold
Of awareness, but already feeling the blessings,
Feeling befriended. This is the best description
Of how I felt as I touched so many Buddha feet.
I felt equal, peer, welcomed, honored, humbled,
Accepted – finally appreciating, sensitive to the simple smile
On those peaceful faces. In each Wat I visited,
The face of Buddha was different, meditating,
Showing absence of suffering, contentment.
So when I smile I am reminded of this inspiring goal
To feel and show my own peace, accepting happiness.
This may be the most sacred lesson of Dharma. I feel

It doesn’t need to be more complex than this.
Meditation sutras assist Samadhi overcome
The obstacles, to rise beyond worldly suffering
That interferes with peaceful contentment
And spiritual purity. It seems intuitively obvious
To take down the mental barriers and accept
The Friendship of Buddha. That feels right, and
A worthwhile state of mind with which to end.

Pace