Friday, April 29, 2016

Bull’s Eye: An Arrow Piercing the Heart of Mara by Jampa Pawo

[Calligraphy by Chogyam Trungpa and Kanjuro Shibata Sensei reprinted from the Shambhala Times]

A poem by Jampa Pawo, dedicated to his dharma friend Grace

Bull’s Eye: An Arrow Piercing the Heart of Mara

Listen, brave warrior of Shambhala.
In your battle against the delusions,
Raise the longbow of unborn shunyata
In your left hand of primordial wisdom
And draw the arrow of bodhichitta
With your right hand of vajra-compassion.
Rest your mind in concentration and thusness
On the union of bliss and emptiness
Aim for the heart of great dharmakaya
And release from form into formlessness
The arrow of bodhisattva actions.

To continue, go here.

To Read about Jampa Pawo's Prison case, visit here.

Daniel Lucas aka Jampa Pawo was executed by lethal injection on April 27, 2016 in the State of Georgia. While in prison he began to practice meditation. The full article is here.

These articles are reprinted from the Shambhala Times, 

Saturday, April 09, 2016

Recap of our April 2 Meditation and Poetry Workshop

After our morning meditation at the Shelburne Falls Shambhala Center, we took turns reading poet Anne Waldman's list of writing prompts from the Naropa Institute-rich and deep like her poems. Increasingly,  I am inspired by Anne's erudition, compassionate actions, and dedication to the power of poetry that can penetrate the darkness of these times.

Here are a few 17 syllable Haiku by Barbara Paparazzo, a friend from our New England College MFA days and frequent participant in our writing group. GInsberg called these "American Sentences" as they are long line instead of the three line stanza found in traditional Haiku 


The soft rain like velvet on my face – when did you last touch me like that?


Even if the world is going mad, the tiny white snowdrops so sweet!


Planting seeds all day in starter trays– mustard greens, kale – your little babies.


Windy, sudden rain, dark skies, then sun – mind like the March weather today.


Rain, sun, the dead grass grows –

God, I wish these old bones could turn green again.

 A wonderful reading by Barbara on

Thursday, April 07, 2016

A Vajra Verse from Flight of the Garuda by Shabkar, Translated by Keith Dowman

On the parchment of diverse red and white phenomena
the bamboo quill of self-existent primal awareness 

and Knowledge inscribes baseless
unattached ciphers liberated from the beginning
creating images to be read in the space 
of co-emergent appearances and emptiness.

from Song 23
Flight of the Garuda