dharma poems

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DHARMA POEMS

Dharma Poems

And Other Writings

by

Michael Erlewine


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Published by:

Heart Center Publications315 Marion Avenue

Big Rapids, Michigan

www.MichaelErlewine.com

(c) 2008 by Michael [email protected]

all rights reservedISBN 9781450522304


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Tis book is dedicated

with love

to

Margaret


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able o Contents

ForewordDharma Poems

Just PoemsMantra Poems

In and OutEarly PoemsShort StuSome ProseOther PublicationsNewer Additions

79

2949

5741677182

84


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Foreword

Poetry or me has been a way to record my innerchanges and experiences. I dont write poetrythat oten, but when I do it always is in responseto some realization or other, something I am go-ing through that nally becomes clear to me.

And I dont just try to write a poem. I usepoetry as a way o clariying my experiences, as

a way to lock my emerging realization into aorm that can serve to bring to mind again andagain the actual experience I am trying to un-derstand. I I can capture the experience in apoem, I know that I have realized something orother about mysel and my lie. And by careullyreciting the poem aloud to mysel, by articulat-

ing each word with understanding, the idea thepoem captures can live again and be present inthe mind.

Whether others can read my poetry this way,whether the captured vision will be present inthe minds o readers, I cant say. I only know itworks or me and I write these poems or my

own inner satisaction. Nothing in this worldis as satisying to me than realization and a newpoem. Tat being said, I hope those who readthe poems in this book may enjoy them too.

I dedicate any merit o these works to all othe Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, Saints, and sincerepractitioners o any aith that they may bringlight and realization to all sentient beings.

Michael Erlewine,

January 9th, 2010, Big Rapids, Michigan


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Dharma Poems


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Te Rest of the Mind

You cannot rest the mind,

But you can let the mind rest.Just let go,And dont mind the rest.


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Beyond My Expectations

Looking at the mind,

Its not what Id expect.

Expectations cant dene,And you cant expect to nd.

Tats the nature o the mind.


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Karma Mirror

According to the Dharma:

Te world just as I see it is my reection,A perect mirror o the mind,Reecting karma --My every thought and action.

Karma is pure result,Te outer reection,O an inner reality,Tat once ripened,

Cannot be altered,

No matter how careully I choose my words,No matter how right I get my mind,No matter how close I hold my tongue,

No matter how slyly I take a peek,I always only see mysel peeking.

Te world looks back whenever I look.

And clever as I am,Even I cant sneak up on a mirror.

Oct 11-12, 2009


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Last is Best

When everythings orgot,

Tat orgetting will allow,Tere is one thing,Ill always nd again,And thats the truth,For it will last till then.

And truth lasts long,Much longer than the rest.When all is gone,

ruths last is best.

November 20, 2009


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ime to Mind

Lost again in the swing o time,

I agree to orget,What I nd so hard to remember:Tis moment.

Always later,

Urged awake by impermanence,I am back again,But arther down the road.

ime takes my mind,In small and larger bites.

Te little ones,I reconnect and can remember,

But the larger gaps,I can only leap across,Guess at,

And hopeully learn,o say more in silence,Tan in words.

Nov. 20, 2009


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Where Do Toughts Go?

My thought does not go anywhere,

But away.

Where am I?


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rying o

I am too tired rom trying to try,

From practicing all that I know,I just have to let go or the moment,And sink back into the ow.


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When I Stop to Tink

I am always awakened,

I never wake up.What I am good at is thinking,I can do it without a thought.

Without even thinking,

I stop to think.Without thinking Im thinking,Im already thinking.

When I stop to think,I stop thinking Im not-thinking.

But even when I think Im not thinking,Im thinking.

Tinking nothing,Is not the same as not-thinking.And when I stop thinking,

Is not the same,As when I stop to think.

I may not be able to stop thinking,But I dont have to stop and think.


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Here or Tere

When it comes to awakening,

One thing is very clear:

Beore Ill ever get there,I have to start right here.


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Te Four Toughts Tat urn the Mind

Tis precious lie,

Impermanent and brie,I know.My actions keep on piling up,And I cant quite get my ducks into a row.

rungpa said to me,So many years ago,By grasping just one thought or two,Well never turn aside.

We must, he said, maintain all our,

And leave not one behind.Four precious thoughts that touch the heart,

Only they can turn the mind.

In the Buddhist tradition, the four thoughts are:

(1) Te preciousness of human birth

(2) Impermanence

(3) Te inevitability of karma(4) Te undependability of Samsara


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Second Toughts

A sudden whi o impermanence,

Makes me wince,And breaks my train o thought.

What was I thinking?

Eyes open, here now again,Contemplating the stream o my own karma.

Impermanence,

Te smelling salts o the dharma.


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Nothing is Something

Tank you, Rinpoche,

For pointing something out:Tat there is nothing to be pointed out,Tat nothing can be pointed out,Including Nothing.

Nothing also cannot be pointed out.

o me:Tat is really something.


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Rest Home

My thoughts,

Like birds aboard a ship,I let go ree,As they y away with me.

No need to ollow on,

And heres the perect test:

Tere is no place to go,All thoughts come back to rest.


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esting the Rest

Learning to rest the mind,

Really puts my practice to the test,So sometimes I just need to take a break,And simply get some rest.


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ime for Nothing

Excuse me or the moment,

No matter the reasons why,I just need more time to do nothing,But gaze into clear empty sky.


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From A Dream

I have gone to paint the sunrise in the sky,

o eel the cool o night warm into day,Te owers rom the ground call up to me,Te sel I think I am is hard to see.


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Never Known

I I know,

I dont know I know,And I know I dont know I know.

I dont know what I would know,I I did know.

Tats how I know I dont know.

So, I dont know,I know I dont know,

And I know I know I dont know.

I have never known.


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Seek and Not Find

I you nd yoursel, then you are not looking.

You will never not-nd-yoursel, unless you look.

In other words:I you dont look, you will nd yoursel,I you look, you will not nd yoursel.

Tat is the nature o having no nature.


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Looking At Looking At

Im looking at looking at.

Im not looking at what looking at is looking at.No, Im just looking at looking at.

Tat is: Im rying to.

You see:When Im looking at looking at,Its not looking at Im looking at,

Because:

What Im looking at is also doing the looking at.

So:

Am I looking at or the looking at?

.


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Just Poems


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My Poems

Poems,

A home or my thoughts,Dear thoughts,Te very best o me,All thats precious and kind,Now sealed in words,

Like insects in amber:

Prayer ags endlessly waving,In the gentle chalice o the mind.


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Where Can You Be?

A Poem for my daughter

Every sharp edge points out,Tat you are not in now.You have gone away in there,And you dont want to play.

You wont be out today.

I can tell,For the rowns and serious looks,

Are all that I can see.Tey keep me rom reaching you,

Keep you rom reaching me.


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Te Age of Impermanence

Lie is just too kind.

It leads us rom our prime,On down a set o gradual steps,Out toward the edge o time.

Each step is not a leap,

Not near enough to jar,Much less awaken me,From ages ated sleep.

And so I drit away,Forget the youth that I once knew,

Like yesterday,When you were watching me,oday Im watching you!

And lie is not quite perect,Its every step not smooth,

Sometimes I step too ar,And somehow lose the groove.

I wake back up,From ast asleep,I peer and look around,

And sense the loss,Whats drained away,How ar I have come down.


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But these clear gaps,

Te moments pause,A day or two at most,

Just time enough,o put things right,And patch up all the holes.

I cling to what I can.

With each misstep,Im let with less,With less I just make do.

You know me:

Where would I go?Ill never cut and run.

For less is more than any,And any more than none.

November 23, 2009


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Who You Are

I who you are,

Is who you will be,And who you will be,Will be,Who you were,

Ten:

Who you are,Is not who you are,

Or who you will be.

So, who are you?


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Imagine What I Dont Know

Imagining what I dont know,

And I dont know,I imagine what I dont know.

I know what I imagine,Is what I dont know,

And what I know,Is not what I imagined.Tat much I know.

I can only imagine what I dont know.


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Something For Nothing

Expect nothing,

Except nothing.

Accept something.


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Dreaming the Future

In the swim o time,

I push my dreams beore me,Like a swimmer pushes waves,Always just out o reach.

I am good at dreaming my uture,

At pushing things orward,And putting my lie o till then,As i rom time I could borrow.When:

Considering my age,

oday IS tomorrow.


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Te Point of No Return

A Poem for My Daughter Michael AnneFeb 14, 2006 2-4 PM, Grand Sextile Helio

Te point o the point o no return is that:When you have reached the point o no return,From which there is no return,Te point is to turn and return.

Tat is the turning point.

Every lie has a turning point,

Whether its in the echo o age,Or in the very midst o lies prime.

As we reach our point o no return,We pause,

Ten we turn.

And, in turning, we begin to reect.

In our reection,And rising into view,Perhaps or the very rst time,Te Sun.

Where beore it was we who were seen,And others seeing,Now we are the mirror in which they see themselves,And we can see our sel in them.


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What we once saw shining beore us, as youths,

Tat which we gladly embraced in our prime,And what we now see etched in the mirror o

reection,

Is our eternal Sel, the Sun,Ever burning in the darkness o our lie.

Tats it.I understand this.

What I nd harder to understand,

Yet still believe is:

We didnt know it then;We dont know it now.

We never knew it.In truth,It never was.

I NEVER WAS;It never will be.

It is not now,And still, it is.

It still is:Tis most brilliant illusion,Shining in the mirror o the mind.


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Short imer

I am older now.

I have less time,But more o it.

I nally have enough,O whatever I was saving or,

o make it to the end.

And as that end draws near,What I need to get there,

Grows less with every year.

So I can take a break,Even chance to look around,o see how you are doing,

o know where you are bound.

We could even walk together,

But here is what is tough,I am only going to the end,And that is close enough.


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Early Poems


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Open

I am so round and such so.A treading nally and letting go,

As spreading circles open so,An even inward outward ow.


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Parmenides

Each to each the sorrow tells:

Find another.Alone is borne the pain,Alone the sorrow,Alone the joy,

odays tomorrow.


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For Shakespeare

Look at yoursel,

First yet rst,No better,And yet not worse.

Now get yoursel together in a bunch,

And call what carriage as ye may your hearse.


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Poem to Robert Frost

It may be that there is as nothing to spare,

Tat what we hold is hardly there,Tat what we share will just sufce,Tat every heart will end in ice.

And then again,

It may not be.


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No Name

My sel surges down,

Still seeking sources not spoken o,Grasping too late grips now past,Still insistent on solid searches,When:

With moments meaning only may we merge.


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My Apology

Ah!

Who could let such a bargain pass,As this poor century will allow.On coming in,Im asked to leave,And when asked to leave,

I bow.


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Hard ruth

Te pain I carry,

Hidden but or its edge,Lies careully holding my old whale heart.

Te endless reach o being out,Vanishes in my coming to know you,

And you bloom careully in my heart,As I ower this world.

No more poetry,

Te truth is hard enough to take.

We are in an endless hell,I I am and i I am not.


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Mantra Poems

Poems, the careful reciting of

which cause the subject to appear

or vivify.


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Outsetting Song

Tat song is sung,

Tat singing,Sets inside itselOutsetting songTat sings,And singing

Sets itselIn song.

Song that sang,

Which sung,Is singing still.


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Inner Ear

What will eager issue out,

And into us would enter,So to stare, to stu itsel,o eat itsel the center,O what we wait to wither in on,Ater it is all.

It eats us out.It only is in every inward eaten,Te echo o an endless ache that arches

Hearts hard hearing,And opens up each inner enting,

And enters it as out.


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Force of Faith

Te orm o orce enorcing orm,

Finds reedom rom that orm in act.

And in act orced is reed,A orm o orce with aith in orm that nds in act:Faith itsel a orce.

Tus, orce nds itsel in orm on aith.

And orce enorcing aith in orm,

And orm inorming aith o orce,

Faith is that orce in orm.Faith is our orm o orce.


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Me, Myself, and I

I see mysel,

o see my sel,o be:Mysel,o see mysel,o be mysel,

o see.


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Te Beginning of the End

Te beginning o the end,

Which is the end o the beginning,Begins at the end o the beginning,And goes straight to the end.

In other words:

When beginning ends,Ending begins.

Te beginning is not close to the end,

But the beginning o the end,Is closer to the end,

Tan to the beginning.

At the beginning o the end,

Te beginning o the beginning ends.

Since the beginning o the beginning ends,

Will the end o the end, begin?

Is ending also a beginning?

I so,Te beginning o the end,

Is closer to the beginning,Tan is the end o the beginning.

Im counting on that.


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Everlasting Life

What will in words not wake,

Clear sleeps,And clear, sleeps on.

What wakes stands watch to see that sleep as sound.What wakes will serve to set asleep,

Inset a sleep with standing words,Tat wake, i ever, last.And on that last, in overlay, our lie.

Yes, to lay at the last a lie that ever lives,o ever last that last o lie,

And in ever lasting lie, everlasting,

We have a lie that lives at last.


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In and Out Poems


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Here I Am

I am in it all the end,

And thats all,And the ever its coming to be,And in me is out,Te shadow o doubt,And the in that is out,

Well,Tats me!


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ime Out

What i at every out I set an in.

I said:What i at each out I set on in.

And in on in on in on in ...And i on in,

Im lost within?

ime is sure to see me out.


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In or Out

In is not within the out,

And out without the in.

No,In is without the out,And out within the in.

Sept. 29, 1970


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Nov. 5, 1969

Whether,

Tat which is within will out.And when out, with all within,Will out without, within.

And then within,

With all without,Will out as in.

And In,

When out,Without an in,

Is out when out,And in when In.


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Sense

All eyes invite entrance,

All ears hear.All lips lie parted.


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Who Cares

He went rst,

With a willingness,And only last learned,o let his longings linger.

He cared,

And his care cut past the points o his person,And peered searching at us all.


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Father and Son

The son,

The ebb tide of the father,

Breaks on in the present,

Breaks out of the past,

Breaks, breaks,

And is broken forever.

Forever less,

And yet no more than the same is certain.

The sons service,

Is to stand certain of the fathers sin.


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Easter Sunday 1968

Ive had enough o others cheek!

And every edge aches over again,Other rudeness,Ear ridden.


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My wide eyes wear their worry.

Waves of shame worried the will,

And were winners.

The throb of uid,

Forcing the issue to certainty.

Worse were the ones,

Who hardly felt fates air for forgetting.

This stars struggle stains,

And is stained,

And in every sadness,

Sees itself sold.

He built his house of Please,

In the palace of Pain.

He sold his loneliness very dearly.


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We are happy when we remember,

Te oolishness o being sad.

The hours heartbreak conceals,

The whole of what we have not hated.

Endless birth rom nature,Nurtured by knowing,

Nameless his nature.

Finely wrought or overwrought.

I ght for the light to see the necessity of the night.

Every each only is in ending out.

His tale was told in telling,And in telling it was tolled.


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Old age moulds its youth,

o play in single streams,Te source o lie,

In single beams

What with wit,

Will wear and last,Is lost later,Letting ast.

Wind without with all within,Letting loves long labor in.

He could but afrm it all,

That was the extent of his power.

All difference is disgured same.

Hard monster that drives a hunger so.


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Some Prose


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Awakening

All I remember is haze red shiting to or-ange as I strained under the innite pressureo my past, like a baby being born, and then,through the strain o this labor (so intense that

time slowed) in which somehow I was involved,

and through that slowness like the head o achild in birth, I crowned, and or the rst timecame I, me, a glimpse o my eternal sel real

awareness. I saw mysel. I ound mysel.

Emerging right up through the top o myhead, I was born as through a veil and vale o

tears, surrounded on all sides by people livingin eternal slowness. ears stood in all our eyes,or I was them huge catlike creatures, wink-ing and blinking in the slowness o expandedtime. We moved together in this, the rhythm

o our birth, rising and alling like the cry o

some great beast. Living was so slow that it tookorever.

We were all, together, one, born out o suer-ing, born out o and beyond time itsel, bornthrough a veil o tears, itsel an endless rain.


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And I remember one white-hot-ash-like-elec-

tric blast that went dead in my mind. I couldnever have it happen twice. I was absolutely

not (as i all stopped), and then it started again.And ater, I wavered, awash like a ower on thesea a lotus. And as I ound aith in my newawareness, I rose above time in knowledge omysel, in this new awareness. And as I lost that

aith, accidents o a deathly kind became verypossible. It was not subtle.

Tere was I, born again and living, alive in a

world that I never really knew and that knewme not at all. I was still in the world, but I was

no longer o that world. Like a newborn child,I searched everywhere or those who would rec-ognize me and welcome me alive. Mine was a

back-room birth, enacted in a century thatcould no longer aord to act out a drama as oldas time itsel.

Exerpt from the book:

Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism


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Relieved

o be relieved, nished, the one thing I hadnever expected. Maybe at lies long end o eightyor ninety years, sure; it might make sense. Butnow, in the prime o my powers, in the middleo my lie? o be relieved o duty? Are you kid-

ding me?

No one ever told me about it. I heard no talko it. I didnt read about it anywhere. Am I the

only one? Am I to remain silent? Who is eveninterested? No one seems to notice.

Relieved o duty in the middle o the war, Imust be a traitor. I must have made some ter-

rible mistake, to be relieved. I mean, I lookedorward to a lie long-lled with searching andsuering. And now this, this terrible guilt onon-involvement, o really not caring like I

used to care, and I would rather die than notcare. Caring did not mean love to me; it meant

worry and suering continued. o be careree,this I never thought to ask or. I had lost myedge, my suering.

It is like someone turned o the engine, as aras we personally are concerned. All at once, thisgreat silence and sense o peace, and when you

rst begin to hear the silence, it terries. We cannow see younger persons still driving and push-ing their birth, yet we dont eel that old drive aswe once did.


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Tere is the eeling that we are somehow

washed up, nished. We have lost that old driveor thing which made us, ourselves. And all

o this unspoken about, unmentioned in pub-lic conversation, simply ignored. As I can see,many just cannot accept this change, and wan-der stunned in a stupor and state o shock oryears, or ll their lives with noise and activity

anything to drown the sense o silence and restthat they eel.

Lited out o our lies sorrow, we reuse to ac-

knowledge the incredible and obvious lightnesso being we now eel. Unburdened, enlightened,

we eel no gravity or weight. Up until now, liebeckoned and lured me running ast throughtimes meanings. What does it mean? What does

it all mean? Where is it all leading to? What ex-actly is the point? And then, this: Silence.

Exerpt from the book:Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism


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Nothing to go back to, no place to hide, no

cover.I am born ree, held awake by all that lives.Where beore I could not keep my eyes open,so now I cannot shut or close them. No closure.From my subconscious pours my past. Cloudi-ness clearing, it is my present. My placenta is

being born, turning out all o that which nour-ished me.

I can clearly see all that clouds this stream o

consciousness is but a searching, is itsel but arowning, a looking to see, a pause, a hesitationthat, caught and unurled in the eddies o time,

nding nothing, becomes clear and, laughing, Ileave it go clear and turn rom a darkening or

dimming o my mind to light. And it came topass, and I let it pass.

Exerpt from the book:

Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism


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A Clear Sleep is Soft

Te mornings brightness lights the day. Andwhen that day is gone, the quietness o eveninghere approaching settles to sleep this restlessworld. Hard can I hear the rantic rush, as I turnaway rom the edge out into oating rest am I.It is not my conscious direction doing this, but

as a head down-turned all lie now turns up ablossom to the night, the night o time urgesme open, at last a ower too, open to lie. Al-ready the dawn.

Still, around me, urging caution, a retinue opersons set my spirit, like a jewel is set, in time.

But where beore my worry, now my rest. Tetide rolls on beyond me. Ever changing, it rocks

me now asleep. And in my sleep, awake am I, soclear a bell is ringing.

Te smart o persons lash and crack to drive

me at times edge. My personal ties are slipped,

as oating out, Im gently tugged. oo long haveought to orce my thought, and not, at ease,arising like some cloud to pass. My work un-

done, yet done, I rise. Driting through strains,I sieve, and pass mysel, open out to nothingthoughts to touch back not once more.


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A clear sleep is sot, its ever blooming sound is

silence. Now to nd my way among the slips otime. And slip I will, now lost to striving, and

lounge in this room o emptiness. o lie back intime, behind its edge, and ever look eternally.No way to pass this on. Tis is: passing on. Slam-ming against the walls o time, I shove o intoeternity, and spread open a ower, so wide.

Exerpt from the book:Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism


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Other Publications


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Books by Michael Erlewine

Available in paperback through online sales.

Interface: Planetary Nodes288 pages, 233 illustrations

Local space: Relocation Astrology|207 pages, 140 illustrations

ibetan Earth Lords:ibetan Astrology and Geomancy223 pages, 156 illustrations

Astrologys Mirror: Full-Phase Aspects191 pages, 145 illustrations

Our Pilgrimage to ibet

260 pages, 112 photos

Burn Rate: Retrogrades in Astrology1000 pages, 153 illustrations

Mother Moon: Astrology of Te Lights447 pages, 304 illustrations

Interpret Astrology:Te 360 3-Way Combinations415 pages, 360 illustrations

Interpret Astrology:Te House Combinations332 pages, 276 illustrations


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Interpret Astrology:

Te Planetary Combinations850 pages, 765 illustrations

Astrology of the Heart: Astro-Shamanism532 pages, 450 illustrations

Te Astrology of Space512 pages, 162 illustrations

Starypes: Life-Path Partners753 pages, 230 illustrations

How to Learn Astrology1100 pages, 950 illustrations

Te Art of Feng Shui

563 pages, 500 illustrationsibetan Astrology827 pages, 579 illustrations

In addition, Michael Erlewine has authored/ed-ited many books on music and lm, not listed

here. Te author can be reached at [email protected].

Also see:

ACAstrology.comAstrologySotware.com,

MichaelErlewine.com


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Mind Practice

Not an option,But a reuge,Less painul than:Anywhere else.

Feb. 14, 2010ibetan new Year of the Iron iger


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Post Meditation

I I am practicing all the time,When will I have time to practice?


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Rinpoche

Just as in that dream o sleep you came,Urging me awake,So too, in this dream o lie,You awaken me rom the nightmares o ignorance.

On rst meeting,At rst glance,You showed me compassion,Introducing me to mysel.

I wandered or days wrapped in your blessing.Yet, due to my weak practice,I could not hold that state or long.

Still,Having known such kindness,I no longer chase ater imitations.You are the bright star in the night o my obscuration,

Always showing me the way to the precious Dharma,Guiding me back to mysel.You are indeed a precious one.

Rinpoche.


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MEANING O KNOW

Feb. 7, 2010Your words (or mine),Depend on what they mean.

Meaning is only a reerence,

A simple reerral,

Like pointing toward:Somewhere else.

In other words,

Meaning is only as good,As the sense it makes,As in:

Does it make sense?

Meaning itsel,Is not meaningul.It makes no sense.

It is not like being.

Only we can make sense.

Meaning points to:Experience,

But only i we go.

It is the only way to know.


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Toughts Make Sense

Toughts come.

I the thought is nonsense,I cant keep it in mind.Forget it.

However,I a thought makes,Any kind o sense,Has any kind o meaning,

I usually ollow it.

Its my train o thought.

Yet meaning in itsel is,

Nothing,A reerence,Pointing toward or at,

Te sense a thought makes.

Toughts can only make sense.


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And sense,

Is an experience,Tat every thought will take me to,

A journey I am always on,Mini-incarnations,Te sum o which,Add up to a lie,

O endless just not-knowing.

Te Dharma says:

Realize the nature,

O the thought,Not the content.

Seeing the true nature,O any thought,

Ends the thought right there,Breaks its link to the senses,Causes no karma to arise,

And brings about awareness.

Tis is why I meditate.

April 21, 2010


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Water and the Well

Te rare times,When nothing moves me,And I dont eel,Like doing anything.

Perhaps this is some kind o,Natural meditation,An eortless detachment,From my day-to-day world.

All that is missing,From just being lazy,Is this awareness,

O my own condition.

I dont waste time,Pretending to be busy,But just sit there,

And or a long time.

Nothing is missing.


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Watch a movie,

Read a book,Sit, or not,It makes no dierence.

I am right here.

Te mind is at rest,Te water back in the well.

- Michael Erlewine,

February 15, 2010,New Moon,New Year o the Iron iger


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IME OU

February 17, 2010In the middle o time,

Without a thought,It comes,(Not at lies end),Like the tide coming in.

I had planned,o get away rom it all.

oo late,Now,

For retreat;Distance is close,Far is now near.

Motions are going,

Every which way,Striking me dumb.

Ill speak while I can.

Te rest I am seeking,Overtook me;

Its already here!


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And its:

Precious,Precious:

Stillness in chaos,Silence in sound.


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dharma poems

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