Sunday, October 15, 2017

Implicit Permission Not to Speak

Mum Is The Word
The League of Quiet Persons meets
monthly. Its quarters are a cavernous
warehouse away from traffic. Its
business is not to discuss business.
Minutes are read silently and tacitly approved.
Members listen to rain argue with corrugated
iron, a furnace with itself. Glances
are learnéd. It is not so much refuge
from noise the members seek in such company
as implicit permission not to speak,
not to answer or to answer for,
not to pose, chat, persuade, or expound.
Podium and gavel have been banned,
indeed are viewed as weaponry.
A microphone? The horror.
Several Quiet Persons interviewed
had no comment. A recorded voice
at the main office murmured only, "You
have reached the League of Quiet
Persons. After the tone, listen."
~ Hans Ostrom ~

Saturday, October 14, 2017

Sad Pretty Girl

Pretty sad girl


Mr Robot Understands


"Who wouldn’t be scared? Mr. Robot understands, and underscores, that we’re all deeply vulnerable all the time. Hackers from all around the world can easily steal as much of your personal information as they desire. Mass shootings are so inescapable that they’re starting to feel routine. We’re all victim to the whims of massive powerful corporations staffed by obscenely wealthy people, and the government is too dependent on those corporations and people to protect us from them. And at a time when there are literally dozens of things American citizens should be outraged about, the biggest controversy of the day is whether McDonald’s should have stocked more of that fucking Rick & Morty sauce." 
~ Mr Robot Knew in 2016 What America Would be Like in 2017 ~


Thursday, October 12, 2017

Original Teacher

 MunSuSa Temple 

Shakyamuni Buddha 

Mun Su Sa Temple

Wakefield, MA


(Lensbaby double glass optic f4 ring)

Wednesday, October 11, 2017

PSA From Our Insect Friends

Check out more stuff from Paul Bibeau at Goblinbooks.



A couple weeks ago I picked up a book called "Why Buddhism is True." I got a free trial membership to and listened to the book during my daily two hours of soul-crushing commuting. The book made the commute a lot less soul-crushing.  

The first three quarters of WBIT focuses on basic Buddhist themes mixed with evolutionary biology and neuroscience. The first three quarters of the book actually got me to start up a sitting practice again. For that fact alone I owe the book and the person who recommended it to me a debt of gratitude.

The last quarter of the book talked about things like Nirvana and Enlightenment. That was when I had to put it down, because such chatter for me is simply an obstacle for so many reasons that I won't bore you with here.

As for the title of the book  - "Why Buddhism is True", I refer the author to the Kalama sutta



Well of Souls

Well of souls


Tuesday, October 10, 2017

They say...

Cairn shouldn't build your foundation on sand.
What they don't (ever) say is that even
if you build upon a great rock,
sooner or later the
tide comes



Monday, October 9, 2017

It looks different close up

The road ahead

Oh look - that darkness just ahead.
The future is almost here.
So many of us knew it was coming.
We tried to tell you. 
All of you.
You laughed at us.
You thought we were fools.
But now, it's almost upon us.
It looks different up close doesn't it?
Who's laughing now?


Sunday, October 8, 2017

beyond blessed


Survivors of natural disasters, survivors of our great second amendment ceremony - the mass shooting, survivors of disease, survivors of roadway calamities, and survivors of medical blunders often hork up the same words that the parasitic rich spew on social media, or the old fashioned way - in person - when they are simply undone by all their good fortune:

"I am so blessed."

People mouth this treacle without a second's thought to the "less blessed" or their poorer cousins, the "un-blessed." The *blessed* humble-brag in this manner without being clear on who or what is doing the blessing and why (for fuck's sake) they think that they are worthy recipients of such bounty.

And those "less-blessed" and their poor cousins the "un-blessed"....what of them?  Why weren't they blessed? Why did they die on the operating table? Why did the back of their head explode from a 9mm round at a country music concert? Why did they drown in a flood?

What didn't the un-blessed do to earn a soft spot in this razor blade existence? What did less-blessed do to disqualify them from a life of ease, a successful husband, a luxury vehicle,  a yearly and month-long vacation somewhere exotic?

Why do the blessed never mention the abject suffering that exists beyond the margins of the soft golden glow the *blessed* live in?

Fuck the golden glow.

Fuck the "blessedness."

Fuck the implied specialness.

It's all samsara.

Being *blessed* is just another thing to drop.


There's no upside

 You never  came



Sunday, October 1, 2017


The next step

Pondering the next step



Wednesday, September 27, 2017

Saturday, September 23, 2017

partly truth and partly fiction

Reed path

"The Pilgrim, Chapter 33"

See him wasted on the sidewalk, in his jacket and his jeans
Wearin' yesterday's misfortunes like a smile
Once he had a future, full of money love and dreams
Which he spent like they was goin' out o' style

And he keeps right on a'changin', for the better or the worse
Searchin' for a shrine he's never found
Never knowin' if believin', is a blessin' or a curse
Or if the goin' up was worth, the comin' down

He's a poet, an' he's a picker, he's a prophet, an' he's a pusher
He's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's stoned
He's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home

He has tasted good and evil, in your bedrooms and your bars
And he's traded in tomorrow for today
Runnin' from his devils Lord, and reachin' for the stars
And losin' all he loved, along the way

But if this world keeps right on turnin', for the better or the worse
And all he ever gets is older and around
From the rockin' of the cradle, to the rollin' of the hearse
The goin' up was worth, the comin' down

He's a poet, an' he's a picker, he's a prophet, an' he's a pusher
He's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's stoned
He's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home

There's a lot of wrong directions, on that lonely way back home

~ Kris Kristofferson ~


Friday, September 22, 2017

don't think it won't happen just because it hasn't happened yet..

 Hold on Steady 

I have faith in nights

Stickwork - Salem MA

You darkness, that I come from,
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
for the fire makes
a circle of light for everyone,
and then no one outside learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything:
shapes and fires, animals and myself,
how easily it gathers them! —
powers and people —
and it is possible a great energy
is moving near me.
I have faith in nights.

 ~ Rainier Maria Rilke ~

(via Love is a Place - which I've leaned on a lot lately...)


Thursday, September 21, 2017

Gonna be a preacher so I don't have to work..

Larkin Poe

Preachin' Blues - Son House


And isn't this good?

 Living the dream 

Too Late
Already it is too late
to start over. So many people
I'll never be, things I won't do.
Why list them? Soon the years ahead
will be too few to maneuver among
and I won't be able to lie, even to myself.
As in a cave at low tide, echoes resound,
not in the spaciousness of possibility,
but in limitation. And isn't this good?
To say, "Yes, I haven't. That's right, I never did."
~ Carole Glasser Langille ~
via Whiskey River