I think that meditators these days have a reputation for being super-serious, even dour.  Portland Shambhala’s Poetry Pocket series (see our calendar, on the fourth Tuesday of the month) hints at the joy and playfulness that happens on the path of meditation.

The connection between poetry and Buddhadharma goes way back:

• Milarepa, one of our Kagyu ancestors (pictured right), is remembered for his 100,000 songs
• Jack Kerouac, who was both one of the Beat Poets (many of whom were Buddhists) and who had a local  connection to the Pacific Northwest. We watched a famous short video of him reading from On the Road, accompanied by some groovy/bluesy jazz played by Steve Allen.
• Robert Lovitt, who hosts our Poetry Pocket series, attended Naropa University’s Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, where he apprenticed with Allen Ginsberg.  Robert shared the poem Be not Defeated by the Rain by Kenji Miyazawa – which Robert annually leans on at the new year to kick start his own spiritual aspirations. (Text is below.)
• Chögyam Trungpa wrote and published many wonderful poems, both sacred and profane

So much for background a lineage.  Here are some of the poems that have been shared so far in our series:

• Four Dharmas of Gampopa
• Cutting the Cords by Gagi
• Color of the Sky by Tony Hoagland

If you have some time, enjoy these right now:

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Be not Defeated by the Rain, by Kenji Miyazawa

 

Be not defeated by the rain, Nor let the wind prove your better.

Succumb not to the snows of winter. Nor be bested by the heat of summer.

 

Be strong in body. Unfettered by desire. Not enticed to anger. Cultivate a quiet joy.

Count yourself last in everything. Put others before you.

Watch well and listen closely. Hold the learned lessons dear.

 

A thatch-roof house, in a meadow, nestled in a pine grove’s shade.

 

A handful of rice, some miso, and a few vegetables to suffice for the day.

 

If, to the East, a child lies sick: Go forth and nurse him to health.

If, to the West, an old lady stands exhausted: Go forth, and relieve her of burden.

If, to the South, a man lies dying: Go forth with words of courage to dispel his fear.

If, to the North, an argument or fight ensues:

Go forth and beg them stop such a waste of effort and of spirit.

 

In times of drought, shed tears of sympathy.

In summers cold, walk in concern and empathy.

 

Stand aloof of the unknowing masses:

Better dismissed as useless than flattered as a “Great Man”.

 

This is my goal, the person I strive to become.

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The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.

meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

— Jellaludin Rumi,

 

If that isn’t Dharmic, I don’t know what is.  (There’s more!)