A short article Tricycle (The Buddhist Review) on photography and finding your zen, inner peace.

https://tricycle.org/trikedaily/zen-photography/

In the beginning we come into this space
as innocent beings fumbling around
the empty fields stretching forever.

We stare in wonder and with amazement
as to the endless possibilities
and the control we have of our life.

Then something changes and the field
begins to fill with objects and obstacles
and where there was no path, forks in the road.

How we navigate this field and
how far reaching our sphere of influence
determines the lanterns brightness when we return.

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Copyright (c) 2014-2016 Twisted Root Photography

In the end, when this life becomes the next,
we become the raw materials returned to earth
only to rise and become the flowers of tomorrow.

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Copyright (c) 2014-2016 Twisted Root Photography

In the end, when this life becomes the next,
we are left behind as one flower in the open fields
becoming 10-thousand blooming and radiant beings.

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Copyright (c) 2014-2016 Twisted Root Photography

We inhabit this space for reasons we still chase
through light and dark
through heaven and hell
through ancient texts and drawings.

The human spirit longs for place,
a concrete connection to surroundings,
a palpable definition of home.
How can we look out there when we do not how we got here?

To measure today against the backdrop
of the past and the future loses
our own meaning and purpose in
the ocean lapping the white sands.

I walked that path on the boundary
shadowed in golden light from the sun
that never set and felt streams of
silent noise and vibrations.

Scattered forever I lost myself
into the water to become one
mind floating in the sea
of dark matter and strings.

In the end we are here
to be caretakers of the
very things we are part of
the very soil we came from.

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Time and age conspire
with numbers setting expectations.

You are only as old as you feel
and that depends on the body’s voice.

These things are mostly out of our control
and in youth we ignore and push limits

looking to find something beyond life
looking over the edge at the mouth of death.

As maturity and wisdom settle like
white petals upon the empty field

the pace becomes slower and immersed
with purpose and awareness

of the mouth opening wider, moving
closer as the sun edges toward the horizon.

We stop each moment and turn them
in the lantern’s light.

We see each detail and imperfection,
we admire the craftsmanship.

In the evening following the storm’s
reach we watch the black clouds pass

and the purple light through the trees
as we smell the spring wind and think of nothing.

If I pull back the thick fog
they still consume my eyes.

If I run into the water and let go,
let the waves push and pull me as

I fall toward the floor, they
consume my conscious thoughts

and what was empty and calm
becomes clouded and my next

actions are in conflict to
what I was taught and I am

left with the ancient memories,
a stain of my former being.