Father’s Day.

A wandering father shares a poem on fatherhood. 


You ever caught your own eye in the mirror
and had that moment of strangeness
where you feel lost
somewhere between your eyes and the mirror
and the infinite bounce between mind to mirror to mind to mirror?

It keeps bouncing.

The center of perception jumps back and forth
between what is seen (the face, the eyes, in the mirror)
and where you’re seeing it from (“you”, from “your brain”).

All assertions about me and mine,
and they and theirs,
are empty and meaningless.

The mirror does this for me.
Maybe you know what I mean..
Maybe not.
Doesn’t matter.

when I see,
I remember my life as a shark tooth.
I remember all of the infinite lives I’ve lived.
I see that I am a dinosaur.
And then,
out of the deep deep guts,
a belly laugh, and a twisted smile–

I recognize that funny bastard in there, peeking out and poking me.

This is what happens in the mirror.
I see a self that is beyond this self.
And, then,
looking deeper,
I see another self,
an older and bigger self,
but then, looking even deeper,
I see no self,
I see a thing that cannot be spoken of.

I see endless nodes and networks and information flows and a bright bright mind light that permeates all of the created and uncreated as it snakes through all of the story.

The eyes of my sons are mirrors into Sunyata.

They are Infinite Buddhas congealed into single personalities for the sake of compassion for all of the infinite sentient beings.

I see them sleeping over there,
I see myself sleeping over there,
I see my nonself sleeping over there.

There is vision,
I am,
I am not,
We are together beyond materialists and eternalists and annihilationists and idealists and priests and scholars of all sorts.

Holy Mother Sophia!
please watch over my sons
as my sons watch over
and come to gno

Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha.



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