Healing Our World

From an email I got today...

The term "warrior" in the Shambhala tradition is a translation of the Tibetan word pawo. Pa means "brave," and wo makes it "a person who is brave." The warrior tradition we are discussing is a tradition of bravery. You might have the idea of a warrior as someone who wages war. But in this case, we are not talking about warriors as those who engage in warfare. Warriorship here refers to fundamental bravery and fearlessness. Warriorship is based on overcoming cowardice and our sense of being wounded.If we feel fundamentally wounded, we may be afraid that somebody is going to put stitches in us to heal our wound. Or maybe we have already had the stitches put in, but we dare not let anyone take them out. The approach of the warrior is to face all those situations of fear or cowardice. The general goal of warriorship is to have no fear. But the ground of warriorship is fear itself. In order to be fearless, first we have to find out what fear is.

From "Facing Yourself," in Smile at Fear: Awakening the True Heart of Bravery, coming in October from Shambhala Publications.

“This is powerful dharma encouragement to awaken our own fearless and wise heart - from one of the most remarkable and brilliant teachers of modern times.” — Jack Kornfield

Warrior Heart

She knows fear
she's touched it
and it's touched her
it is not that she is unafraid

Her fearful heart
is even familiar
a common experience
in her daily life

It's not just the big fear
it's almost never that
though she's been there as well
she's seen the face of terror

But right now it's not some mortal danger
it's more just getting through today
or even the next minute
it's just staying — again — and again

That subtle edge that presses her heart
the little threat that sinks her stomach
that makes her want to turn away
that makes it easy just to go

Yet she doesn't turn away
she opens up and lets it in
and it hurts but she stays
and shares the pain with tenderness

Though she may be afraid
because there is no end to fear
still - she walks into that uncertainty
she can't help it any longer

The fear of what’s to come
the fear of what has been
the fear of feeling anything
the fear of being alive

If you were to know her
"fearlessness" may never cross your mind
but you might just perceive
how she is touched by life

How she lingers in the flowers
How a bird’s song brings a tear
how she is there – for anyone
simple — ordinary — straightforward

The tender open heart
vulnerable to the depth
with nothing to defend
undaunted

— Mike Rubey

Subj: The Promise Land

i'm on a new (for me) list serv and the thread's headed towards the middle-east. i'm right, no i'm right, no i'm right, etc. lots of emotion. lots of opinion. and all i know is that it is very complicated and even though i semi-keep up with the news, i'm no scholar and i'm no expert. i just wish there was peace and some kindness. and that sounds trite, but i don't mean it that way.

the below poem was a response to the thread. i don't think the author meant it as a poem, but i liked it very much and he gave permission for it to appear here. and here you are.

(Subj: The Promise Land)

The promised land is everywhere, and nowhere.
It is in the heart of those who hold it.
It is not real estate.
It has never been real estate.
To hold the view that it is any certain place is an error.

There is a fundamental misunderstanding,
a confusion of the wisdom-
which issues from ethnic creation myths,
the world around.
The chosen people...and their promised land.

Here where I am, the promised land where sits this house.
Was once the Comanchera...
those beautiful human beings, and others
who lived on this land....(noone knows how long)
given them by their creator (in the beginning)
are gone.
They fought like noone ever fought
making fools of the pony soldiers
until they were so few (the blue soldiers came like winter snow)
so few that they quit
and said enough,
though they were never defeated.

Sometimes you just say enough.

— Mike Rubey

overheards

marya [with mouth full of candy]: i know, i know, i've been laggin'.
jaxon: who's that? the brother of bin ladin? bin laggin?

April is National Poetry Month

More from the Shambhala weekend... (with permission)

[Practice is so hard]

Practice is so hard
It's uncomfortable
And boring
I never get it right anyway
I want to watch T.V.
Or have a little chat
And then I remember
I'm not doing it for myself
I suppose I can sit
A while longer

— William O.


[They say death comes without warning]

They say death comes without warning
I'm not so sure
The color of the persian carpet flower in the sea
The sounds of the mockingbird at 3 AM
The smell of garlic and onions cooking in butter
The subtle flavors of a rich wine
The feel of a silk shirt

These must be warnings to a warrior for they cannot be distraction

They are the celebration I am longing for
They are the ache in my heart, the tear in my eye

— Pat L.