Distant Pavilions
One of the prints from my show….
Raining like crazy here in Portland. The weather has turned and is it ever coming down. Off to work, I am ever running late.
Blessings,
Gwyllm
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On The Menu:
As If Translated By Babel Fish….
The Links
Koan: Life as a Pig
Dawn is Streaking Red: The poetry of Mike Hoffman
Koan: The Moon Cannot be Stolen
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As If Translated By Babel Fish….
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The Links:
Federal Approval To Travel WITHIN The US Soon???
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Koan: Life as a Pig
One day, a old master had a vision of his next life. He immediately called in his favorite disciple and begged a favor of him.
“Anything for you master.” the disciple replied.
“In my next life, I will come back as a pig. Soon after I die, our sow will give birth and I will be the fourth pig of the litter. You will recognize me by a mark on my brow. When that happens, please take a sharp knife and end my life quickly.
Within the year, the master passed away and the sow gave birth. The disciple sharpened his knife and found the small piglet. Suddenly the little pig screamed “Stop! Don’t kill me!”
The disciple dropped his knife in surprise and stared at the little pig. “When I was like you I didn’t know what a pig’s life would be like. It’s great. Just let me go.”
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Dawn is Streaking Red: The poetry of Mike Hoffman
I am pleased to share some poems from Mike Hoffman’s new book with you… ‘Dawn is Streaking Red’.
If you are interested in picking up a copy, they are $5.00 inclusive of shipping (US & Canada)..
You can contact Mike at: m_hoffman@fastmail.fm for your autographed copy!
Mike has worked on this book for awhile, and like him he kept it pretty quiet. I am pleased he has brought it forth and is sharing it with the world!
We Are Each Other (Meeting the Mother)
Gathering, in a safe cocoon
The little death, Mother of our Hearts
Weaves her way
Into every cell
Permeating and probing
It’s OK
To weep when you plant;
It’s your funeral.
Seeing to the molecular
Breathing beautifully, deeply
Trembling, minded sound
Wave upon waves
Magic melodies
Doing psychic surgery
Brimming, behind our eyes
Overflowing, into our Heart.
The source of knowledge
The magnificent elegance
Embodying principles
Of creativity and love
She is with you now,
And forever
As we carry, each other
Out into the world.
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Beltane
Overworked emotions
Overworked bodies
The gloom and stress
Of overworked society
It’s time for some merrymaking
In the bushes.
Let’s move what we can move
And shake what we can shake
Be kind to ourselves
The veil between the worlds
Is thin now.
Pay attention; tune to the Heart
Magic is afoot
In service to something
Hospice worker or midwife
Healing one is healing all
In a holographic universe.
Approach the unknown
Be unafraid to look
At the unseen worlds
Of myths and fairies.
Jump the fire
And dwell in the flame
Rumpled
By these sacred encounters.
Renegade perception
The power of open-hearted action
Gathering herbs, gathering power
Vernal sincerity
Because it’s absurd.
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Afterglow
Intelligence in the background
Nature is in control
Cool dampness, vibrating delight
Early morning tears.
Be careful what you ask for.
Not willing to play the game
Unconcerned in the daily world
Your skin fits just right
Going from strawman to spectral
Undifferentiated perception?
After all, what can we really see?
A crack in the membrane
Everything glows
Splitting with the inferior
With language, communication by gesture
A polarity reversal
The body doesn’t lie.
Marvels abound
In little things, under our noses
Step out sweetly
Let the bottom drop out
A peculiar affair
Worthy of its temporariness
‘Till we go home for good. 
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Koan: The Moon Cannot be Stolen
Ryokan, a Zen master, lived the simplest kind of life in a little hut at the foot of a mountain. One evening a thief visited the hut only to discover there was nothing to steal.
Kyokan returned and caught him. “You may have come a long way to visit me, ” he told the prowler, “and you should not return empty-handed. Please take my clothes as a gift.”
The thief was bewildered. He tool the clothes and slunk away.
Ryokan sat naked, watching the moon. “Poor fellow,” he mused, “I wish I could give him this beautiful moon.”
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