10.8.16

Santoka

October 1, 1930. Today as I was walking along, I kept thinking
to myself: when there are trains, when there are automobiles,
to walk, and moreover to walk in straw sandals—what an
outmoded, what an inefficient and burdensome way to trav-
el! As a matter of fact, on the road today there were autos
and bicycles passing from time to time, but I met almost no
one who was walking. Nevertheless, by venturing to do
something so ludicrous, I, who am not very clever, justify
my existence.

Santoka

(trad. Burton Watson)

1.8.16

Representando la Vida

La experiencia sensual de las palabras
y del relato de los viejos y viejas lobos y lobas
de mar , de tierra, de desierto.
No tiene nada que ver con los actos, acciones.
El placer viene de la hijaputez del lapiz
que hizo un gol, representando la vida.

16.6.16

domingo, 4 de enero de 2009

Ojo - separaciones


La totalidad es la realidad objetiva en cuyo movimiento la subjetividad sólo puede insertarse como realización. Todo lo que no es realización de la vida cotidiana se incorpora al espectáculo donde está congelada
la supervivencia (hibernación)
y para más, suministrada en rebanadas.
Sólo hay realización auténtica en la realidad objetiva, en la totalidad. El resto es caricatura.

La realización objetiva que se opera en el mecanismo del espectáculo no es más que el triunfo de objetos manipulados por el poder (es la "realización objetiva en la subjetividad" de los artistas conocidos, de las vedettes, de las celebridades del Quién es Quién).

A nivel de la organización de la apariencia, todo éxito, -y así mismo está inflado por la información como si se tratara del único triunfo o del único fracaso posibles.
Hasta el presente, el poder fue el único juez, aunque su sentencia está sometida a presiones.

Sus criterios son los únicos válidos para los que aceptan el espectáculo y se contentan con tener un papel en él. Sobre este escenario ya no hay artistas, sólo hay comparsas.


Vaneigem - Banalidad de Base

domingo, 5 de septiembre de 2010

Liliputienses " burgueses"

Mis vecinos se debaten las armas que tienen hasta
que el viento frio calma sus penas
quizas alguna brasa vuelve a encender

Sentido comun, hoy tengo ganas de juzgar
como el colibri que echa a pajaros enormes
y pesados que buscan su pequeña semilla
no se espantan, no se espantan con nada

Aletear sin lugar
quiero sacar la fetides poco elegante de cuerpos densos
tampoco soy una sutil pisca de azucar
que cae al amargo te


Si no hay alegria en ese cubo para que estamos
para seguirnos llenando de hiel
no hay a donde ir

Torcida la recta integral
Recta se ve la curvatura
Turbio pasa el tiempo

Cultivando paciencia en la leche
y derramando la miel en las piedras saladas
del acantilado


19.5.16

Roshi Sama

Roshi Sama:
There is a stone here in the graveyard upon which these words are carved: “We were once just as you are now, you will become as we are now.” How is that? The fact is: everyone passes on. Impermanence is swift. No matter how blessed you may feel in your present circumstances, how easygoing, how secure and pleased you are: you cannot hang on to that world. It will be jerked out from under you. Impermanence is swift. The lining of your present life is death. The problem of life and death is no one else’s problem. It is yours to deal with.
And than there are the many desires. You can’t get what you what, it never seems quite right, never enough. Dissatisfaction and frustration seem to surface. There are so very many people who worry about what would seem to be no problem at all. Liberation from suffering. The more you know of this world, the more you see it to be a giant exhibition of suffering. Everywhere you look, you see plenty of examples of misery.
What about you? Have you no pain, no suffering, no worries, no fears? If you honestly think: “Hey, not me. I can meet it as it comes, go with the flow, I am not afraid, I can always be at peace,” than you are fooling yourself, giving yourself license, seeing yourself for what you are not. You are caught up in a self-notion, clinging to an ego-idea. And lost in that self you cannot hear the cry or see the tears of others. If you can overlook those tears, you are not a person of great peace of mind.
The depth of Truth is bottomless. Your interconnection is bottomless. A single grass in the field is perfect Buddha. How utterly one are all things. The grasses, the trees, the great earth, the great sky, all being is born in relation to all things. This is the true self, the perfect self. No matter what: all is goodness. However, because of deluded perception beings fail to realize their inherent Buddha-nature. Truth is universal and complete. Can you receive and embrace thoroughly this one truth?
(…)
There is something urging you to look deeper, something which seeks to be known: don’t you see it yet? Isn’t it clear yet? You are sitting here because you cannot help but seek truth. The genuine seeks to know itself. Truth is seeking truth. That is why you are here, putting heart and mind into meditation. Your time of awakening will come. No one is hopeless. Life is not mean. No one is left out. There is no one who is more or less Buddha than any other. True nature is never lost, never hidden from you. It only seems that you have to go looking for it.
But you have long lifetimes of fooling yourself, protecting your self-cherishing. When you have come to life again, to awakening, it will be so clear that there is no “self” and other.” There is no opposition, just this one reality. What appears as opposition is simply the result of the self-centered view, which is of course the incorrect view. This bad habit and wrong view causes untold suffering, for yourself and for others. And you will continue to create suffering as you go on living in falsehood. You will continue to experience suffering, fear, a sense of lacking, and you’re not helping anybody.
What you think you are, who you think yourself to be is so entirely mistaken. Grasping “self” you obviously fail to see who you really are. You try to hold what cannot possibly be held, for where is there anything fixed? Change is swift. Because you try to hold on you feel so much anxiety, it’s inevitable. How could you know true satisfaction? Dissatisfied you look restlessly out here, out there. Your base-camp is “I, me, mine.” You grasp it, you seek to rely on it. You are relying upon a phantom. You grasp this phantom-self and ceaselessly try to satisfy it. What lengths do we go through to gratify the self. We get what we want for a time and then we lose it, up, down, up and down. We try to rely on our clever thinking. How could there be any true peace of mind? How could you even begin to give to the great universe as you receive? Your compassion could only remain half-baked, locked as you are in “I, me, mine.” You are doing your practice because you have determined to receive life as it is, to come home to Life. You will meet with true self.
(…) We human beings rely on our discriminating intellect. How arrogant we are. “This is mine, this is what I deserve, credit should come here, this is the way it should be.” We compare in contrast and in so doing we shrink our world so small. We get so down on ourselves. We feel so very sorry for ourselves. And, by turn, we are so proud of ourselves. We wonder why the world doesn’t turn as we think it should. We become so dark and down and than we joke to cover our insecurities. Lost in self we can’t help wondering “where is the value of this, what am I doing this for?” We wonder if there is any meaning in what we are doing. What about you? Are you clear, crystal-clear, about what you are doing? What are you living for? Birth, aging, illness and death come quick. Your world as you know it is pulled out from under you in a flash.
It seems no time ago at all that I first met my teacher Daiun Roshi for the first time. I could only judge the world by my own hard held beliefs. We have to break through this, to see the beauty. And here, some fifty-five years have flashed by. Now, here. All the universe is embraced in the One. I can assure you that all is well. All eternity is now, here. Bold, clear, dignified. Now, here, so vivid, so alive, filled with joy, waiting for you to see it. “I will do whatever I can to benefit another.” This is just life as it is, naturally.
Please, please see it: everything is alive. Great, great Alive. This is the happiness of all happiness. And this “now here” can never be destroyed. The light of your eternal life is shining brightly, now. What joy there is in this radiance. Please, take care of yourself, your shining Buddha-self. Become ever more able to appreciate your Buddha-self. That is not to say be arrogant. There is nowhere anyone to feel small, no one to be made small, no one to feel superior, no one toward whom you could feel superior. So who are you to feel vain and proud when your very source is all being? You are supported, you are nurtured, you are guarded by all being. Thanks to all being, together, one, is all the universe. This breath is breathed, so close, always one, always together. Please never forsake the limitless treasure which is you yourself. Be in touch, simply do not look away. Grasp nothing, hold nothing. There is just now, here, fresh, new, alive. Now. Just do you practice with all good grace.

22.2.16

Es necesario cuidarse del inconciente colectivo en todas sus formas, algunas personas más sensibles todavía más. Historias, folklores, comentarios, chimentos, noticias diseñadas por el gobierno de turno o en su contra, entre otras. Hay personas y sustancias mortales (personas, venenos) pero hay una gama de grises que sólo afectan a diferentes personas y en diferentes momentos. Lo bueno y lo malo se cambian los roles tan rápidamente que no hay flexibilidad que aguante. A veces hay que poner el hombro y a veces dejar pasar, ésto se suele aprender cuando ya es muy tarde y reímos con gracia al caer en donde ya nos habían señalado los libros y creíamos que no ibamos a caer.

22.1.16

El árbol de Buda

Ese árbol era una higuera. 
Tiene un olor horrible (te acostumbras igual)
Se llena de aves que gritan para comer los frutos 
de insectos por el azúcar que contienen
y cuando se corta una rama chorrea una sustancia que arde. 

Se puso abajo del árbol más ruidoso del bosque.

1.1.16

El reir de las tragedias

Como el agua que recorrre las
hojas del alambre atravesada
por el Sol formando
un charco purificado
en la calle que doble

Algunos gritan, desbordan represas
de veneno, los que no tenían
nada, ahora, tienen menos

Canalizar a veces es bueno...
a veces no es suficiente

Tendríamos que dejar algunos arroyos
fluir tranquilos, no estamos solos
el oro, no es todo, ni el
hierro

Las represas tientan, el control de la
tierra, sublimada ingeniería

Un momento juntos alivio nuestra
tristeza, luego el viento, luego la
acacia en flor, luego respirar
y ahora continuar...