This poem is written by the contemporary Tibetan poet Sangdor and is part of a forthcoming book of his poetry in English translation. Sangdor was born in the Lake Regions of Amdo and recognized as a highly revered reincarnated master. However, in his 20’s announced that he was not actually this master nor was he a monk any longer and thereby returned his robes.
FORGOTTEN OCEANView Post
THE THREE YANASView Post
SYLVAN DROPSView Post
As my meditations and contemplations deepened, I noticed a shift in my writing. I began to experience what felt like direct transmissions from the Source. Wisdom, uncluttered and unfiltered by my ego, began pouring out of me and onto the page. I imagine that all Gnostics or mystics throughout time have written from these deep meditative states.
Better to buy a book than to buy weed! Sit, and do your meditation. Go, go, to the cemetery, practice there!’ So I did, for many, many years, night and day. Even though I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder aged twenty-five after many hospital admissions, only my practice kept me well. My faith grew exponentially as a result of this. Even though people mocked me, laughed at me and called me a madman, I continued practicing.
I am facing the loss of an old friend and she is, by turns, weak and failing and then blooming with renewed energy. The spark in her eyes returned as bright as ever. The ebb and flow so remarkable and yet so sudden as to question my role in this play. Who am I to decide when pain and suffering is too much to bear?
TEN THOUSAND ROBESView Post
Just as the divine longs to communicate through and as appearance, so land longs to communicate her sacredness through beauty. She seduces us into deeper communion, into a more attentive listening, with her sensuous invitations. Her beauty is so outrageous that it might even confuse our senses. Befuddled by her, one day I decided to buy a camera so I could listen more carefully.