SUNDAY POEM BODH GAYA So this is where you sat, having vowed not to move until you’d grasped what you were looking for– the root of human suffering. To see things as they are. Girders of life, architecture of light underlying all creation. You met demons,...
BUDDHIST CHRONICLES 9 9 Yasodhara Yesterday the magnolia’s perfect bowl brimmed with rain-water Now, a single petal, mottled cream and brown, droops outward The bowl is broken Rahula runs towards me his laughing face upturned Two raindrops tremble on the...
In this poem, we stand with Siddhartha at the boundary between the world we know and the one that awaits our unfolding. What threshold invites you to step into your future today? How do you feel about it? Will you say yes to the call of the river? BUDDHIST CHRONICLES...
BUDDHIST CHRONICLES 7 Siddhartha At The Boundary Of The Sakya Kingdom Moonless night; cloud silk across lowering sky. In my father’s palace Yasodhara sleeps, my son’s newborn body curled against her breast: a snail in its shell. I have turned my trembling...
BUDDHIST CHRONICLES 6 Suddhodana’s Dilemma The king sits in council with his ministers. His heir has vanished, choosing the ascetic’s empty bowl over the imperial crown. Seven sages had predicted this the day Siddhartha was born. His would be a destiny of...
