The Dharma
This Dharma is utterly unattainable, and yet I vow to attain it. A butterfly landed on my arm. The contradiction dissolved.
This Dharma is utterly unknowable, and yet I vow to know it. I watched my pain and suffering. The contradiction dissolved.
This Dharma is utterly unspeakable, and yet I vow to speak it. I ordered a Venti Earl Grey tea with steamed milk. The contradiction dissolved.
This Dharma is utterly unlivable, and yet I vow to live it. I took the first of twelve steps. The contradiction dissolved.
This Dharma is painful, and yet I vow to feel it.
This Dharma is blissful, and yet I vow to let it go.
The Dharma is introverted, but I vow to extrovert it.
The Dharma is extroverted, but I vow to introvert it.
The Dharma is thinking, but I vow to feel it.
The Dharma is feeling, but I vow to think it.
What is this Dharma?
The Dharma is “think not thinking.” The Dharma is “feel not feeling.”
The Dharma is “know not knowing.” The Dharma is “perceive not perceiving.”
The Dharma is the dawning of consciousness upon the dark night of the unconscious.
The Dharma is the unconscious.
The Dharma is being. The Dharma is non-being.
The Dharma is that which is beyond being and non-being.
The Dharma is the God, incarnated, crucified, and resurrected from the dead.
The Dharma is the God who plays the flute and dances in the forest of Vrindavan.
What is this Dharma?
Chanting is Dharma.
Zazen is Dharma.
Prayer is Dharma.
Bliss and non-bliss are Dharma.
Self and non-self are Dharma.
The Dharma is life and the Dharma is death.
The Dharma is the heart in which sits
the unborn child that never was conceived.
The Dharma is the cat chasing mice, and the mice chasing cheese.
The Dharma is the man chasing dreams, and the dreamer chasing himself,
ghost upon the wind,
wind upon the face,
face upon the sky,
and sky upon the world.
The sand between my toes,
a kiss upon my lips,
the silence of the waves,
flickering flame blown out – nirvana,
the essential emptiness of lover and beloved,
ocean without water,
fire without heat,
mind without thought,
the no-thingness of “things.”
The Dharma is the butterfly that lands upon my arm,
the suffering that is born with the rising sun,
and which passes away by eventide,
reborn again in the words that pass between my lips,
and cast into the dirt upon the ground I walk,
where my softly moving feet take root.
The Dharma is the cat to which I bow.
The Dharma is the mountain to which I bow.
The Dharma is the suffering to which I bow.
The Dharma is Buddha.
The Buddha is You; the Buddha is Me.
Buddha is life as it is.
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