home

Whether drifting through life on a boat or 

climbing toward old age leading a horse, 

each day is a journey and the journey itself is home. 

Basho

Photo:  Peter Bowers

home

Treading along in this dreamlike, illusory realm,

Without looking for the traces I may have left;

A cuckoo's song beckons me to return home,

Hearing this, I tilt my head to see

Who has told me to turn back;

But do not ask me where I am going,

As I travel in this limitless world,

Where every step I take is my home.

Dogen

Photo:  Peter Bowers

practice

Let silence be the art 

you practice.

 Rumi

Photo:  Peter Bowers

unfurling

“I don’t believe in an outside agent that creates the world, then walks away. But I feel very strongly there is an intelligence at work in every flower, in every blade of grass, in every cell of my body. And it is that intelligence that, I wouldn’t say created the universe. It is creating the universe. It’s an ongoing process.”




Eckhart Tolle
Photo:  Peter Bowers

nothing other than this

So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.




 Hermann Hesse
from Trees, Reflections and Poems

one breath

When my mother was dying

We made a agreement that when she passed

I would have to find her in new ways

She said,

You can find me in the wind

Or in the scent of a rose..

You will find me in the decisions you make…

Help each other

We are all children of the Gods

And we all share one language

And we all share one breath

Lisa Kristine
Photo:  Peter Bowers

the greatest of these

Though I speak with the tongues of angels,

If I have not love...

My words would resound with but a tinkling cymbal.

And though I have the gift of prophesy...

And understand all mysteries...

and all knowledge...

And though I have all faith

So that I could remove mountains,

If I have not love...

I am nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind;

Love tolerates all things,

Aspires to all things.

Love never dies.

While the prophecies shall be done away,

tongues shall be silenced,

knowledge shall fade...

thus then shall linger only

faith, hope, and love...

but the greatest of these...

is love.

1 Corinthians 13
Photo:  Peter Bowers

The Swan

This clumsy living that moves lumbering

as if in ropes through what is not done,

reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.

And to die, which is the letting go

of the ground we stand on and cling to every day,

is like the swan, when he nervously lets himself down

into the water, which receives him gaily

and which flows joyfully under

and after him, wave after wave,

while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm,

is pleased to be carried, each moment more fully grown,

more like a king, further and further on.

Rainer Maria Rilke 

Translated by Robert Bly

Photo:   Peter Bowers

home

Be ordinary. 

Every place is a place of arrival,

every place is a true home for the practitioner.

There is nothing that is not deep and wonderful,

there is nothing that is not liberated.

The most noble person is the person who has nothing to do. 

The only thing you should avoid is thinking about what

you are going to do.

All you need to do is be an ordinary person,

be sovereign wherever you are and use 

that place as your seat of awakening.

You should live your lives in a very natural way. 

Do not put on airs. 

When it is necessary to walk, walk. 

When it is necessary to sit, sit.

Ramana Maharshi

Photo:  Peter Bowers

with thanks:  Love is Place

home

The act of trying to find the way home is what convinces us we are lost.

We’re not lost, we’re not alone, and we’ve never even left home.

Rumi