The right to be corny
Monday, November 17th, 2008 
Self love is
dancing to old tunes
in my car
as I drive on 101 S through the night.

Self love is
dancing to old tunes
in my car
as I drive on 101 S through the night.

Just one moment of resting in the ground of my own being
Beats the taste of ten thousand girlfriends.
One hundred million of them.

My Zen teacher
is not a Zen teacher.
How pertinent!
Let me be ruined by love,
So that I may come back to you
without pride, or stupidity,
-Or pretense, or opinions-
or any sense of separation…
-Jeremy Taylor
(In gratitude to my dear friend Heidi for passing this on)

1. The first piece is gone, beyond gone.
2. I get in touch with my vast, deep sorrow
to find out there is no sorrow.
3. “To know the difference between what hurts and what doesn’t”
people call that by fancy names.
4. With it being all a lie, focus on what works, discard what doesn’t.
5. Free to be bound and free to be free
what a wonderful thing!
6. As I die in the love for my teacher
I live.
7. Everything shows me how to be of service.

All I have to offer
is my vulnerability

I just want to sit at the feet of the master
and weep.
I just want to sit at the feet of the master
and weep.
I just want to sit at the feet of the master
and weep.

Wanting to connect
I die to myself.
I can’t tell if that’s a bad thing
but it doesn’t matter.
And that’s a good thing.

The ultimate turnaround is to begin again, to forget what I’ve learned, to stand there, naked, hands to the side, and allow the fire to burn. I notice it burns anyways (sometimes). Resisting that only makes things worse (it seems).
But, wait. Why would that be a good idea? “I don’t ever want to suffer like I did before” turns around to “I’m willing to suffer like I did before” and “I look forward to suffering like I did before.” Isn’t it so that a sane mind doesn’t suffer, ever? Something doesn’t add up here, it seems.
Except for when it does. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life running away from my thoughts, and I notice that I still do that, sometimes. So practicing being willing and looking forward to the worst that can happen allows me to catch up with myself, to recognize the parts of me that I sometimes miss. Once seen, they can be met with understanding. It doesn’t matter what it is: if it’s part of me, I want to love it. And what would escape the world of what’s for me to love?
Besides, I’m not superstitious. Inviting dread doesn’t bring it to my life. It just means I’m open to it, and when this is so what appears to be dreadful is simply not so. The whole thing is pregnant with paradox:
Resisting dread is dreadful in the extreme
So I welcome it, open to it
Then I can’t find any
Even as it comes and swallows me alive pinching my every nerve
I look around and it’s all open space.
What is there to fear?
As I write this my computer interrupts me to inform me that “new processes have been scanned” and that my computer is hence free from adware and spyware.
For now ![]()

Fill your bowl to the brim
and it will spill.
Keep sharpening your knife
and it will blunt.
Chase after money and security
and your heart will never unclench.
Care about people’s approval
and you will be their prisoner.
Do your work, then step back.
The only path to serenity.
-Tao Te Ching, Ch. 9, translated by Stephen Mitchell