Saturday, 20 of September of 2014

Gary Lawless – Caribouddhism

FlorianSchultz-SierraClub

In early June of 1995 Beth Leonard, Nanao Sakaki and I traveled to Newfoundland to see icebergs, caribou and moose. As we traveled we talked of how every place has its own messages, visions, teachers, practices. I suggested that we become caribouddhists, wandering with the great herds, listening to their stories, tasting the ice… CARIBOUDDHISM chronicles this journey into inner and outer landscapes with a delicate hand.

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1
The iceberg has come
to speak with Nanao.
She is just beyond the window,
waiting beyond the light.
She has come a long way.
She has a message for us.
She is very shy.
If we look directly at her
she begins to melt away,
all that she
has to say, lost
to the light of
day, the wind, the
rocks, our eyes—
She begins to speak.
ice-face-memeWe must listen
very carefully.

2
Tonight she comes as
moose, no longer iceberg,
tiptoeing carefully
between the tents.
She is happy in darkness.
She is looking for Nanao.
She wants to enter
his dreams.

3
Today she is standing
beside the road
in a patch of bog and
dirty snow.
She is the color of glacier,
iceberg, snow and
light.
She turns and
disappears,
into the woods.
She is caribou,
she is iceberg
she is message,
and dream.
 


Gary Lawless – Terra Nova

Salmon_Chruch
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Every stump is sacred.
Every stump a saint
Every silted river a church to which
the pilgrim salmon return.
Every breath of wind a love song.
We worship in wetlands,
bow to the fern, the rock,
the holy salamander,
the blood of sweet water,
the body of moss.

The soil is dreaming of trees.
The trees are dreaming of wind.
The wind is dreaming of clouds.
The clouds are dreaming of water.
The water returns to the earth.
8Without trees, the soil washes away.
The wind blows over barren ground,
and the dreams of the world are broken.

Somewhere within the shell mound
a dog is barking.
seals turn their ears
to the sound.
sand through our hands
drifts, plants
move along the ground –
to wear copper and bone,
left alone
for two thousand years.
it is where we come to
on this sunny day,
stick our hands
deep into shell and
sand, strike bone,
touch land again,
make the wind,
make the rain.
 


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