poem: the hermit of bird heaven thinks of Siddhartha Gautama

 

poem: the hermit of bird heaven
thinks of Siddhartha Gautamawhen the hermit
of bird heaven
leaves his modest abode
on the high hill

he thinks of
Siddhartha Gautama
leaving his father’s palace
for the first time

witnessing the human
suffering and injustice
just outside the king’s
huge estate gate

Prince Siddhartha upon seeing
an old person, an ill person,
a corpse, and an ascetic,
is shocked by the suffering

as is the hermit upon seeing
the homeless couple
seated in folding lawn chairs
at the interstate off ramp

it is obviously their home
in the bare dirt on the road side
littered with plastic for protection
and their few belongings

Siddhartha never returns home,
continuing on the archetypal
journey we must all take someday,
he becomes a spiritual devote, then teacher

we, propelled by our own human curiosity,
wanting to know the full story and full truth,
for ourSelf, must also leave the privilege
and comfort of our protective ego and home

thus journeying into the shadows
in a pathless land finding our own way,
solitary pilgrims doing the hard work
finding our story and truth for ourSelves

awakening

Herb Stone
here&now working poetry
April 24, 2021

image ‘Buddha Under the Bodhi Tree’
from Self Help Robot

Author’s note: Siddhartha Gautmama
is the name of the human who became the
Buddha. In Sanskrit, the name means
“one who has found the meaning of existence.”

Reflection: Aftermath of the flooding

Reflection: Aftermath of the flooding
Walking at Radnor Lake Natural Area yesterday, witnessing the aftermath and power of the flood waters these last few days after heavy rain over the weekend (and it rained heavy again last night).
The waterways are running swift and deep, carving new branches here and there.
Herons and turtles survive on a log, a large salamander meanders by, and a fish and crawdad perished by the way.
Wildflowers and trees are all abloom. The smell of wet loamy earth fills the air. The warm sun helps us forget the raging storms we have just experienced.
I mumble a little prayer for those who suffered injuries, damage, and death from the storms with a word of gratitude for the sunny calm this day 🙏💓

poem: the Spirituality of imperfection (presence in the suffering world)

Reflection: doing the dark inner work of facing our shadows an fears and moving back to life again

Reflection: doing the dark inner work of facing our shadows and fears and moving back to life again as a rite of passage

Today is All Souls Day of the Fall Triduum

Cynthia Bourgeault on the Fall Triduum of Halloween, All Saints, Day, and All Souls Day:

“the movement is more inward…. The days are shortening, the leaves are fallen, and the earth draws once again into itself. Everything in the natural world confronts us with reminders of our own mortality…. And yet in the midst of this broody season of dark and inwardness, the days do offer themselves as a journey, a progression we can take…. In the quiet, brown time of the year, these fall Triduum days are an invitation to do the profound inner work: to face our shadows and deep fears (death being for most people the scariest of all)…then to move back into our lives again…. I encourage all of you who have the inclination to keep these days as best you can for this quiet but extraordinary rite of passage.”

‘All Souls Day’ by Jakub Schikaneder 1888