RETREATING WITH TILOPA * ________________________ A MOSTLY SERIOUS, SOMETIMES WHIMSICAL COLLECTION OF 36 SHORT POEMS, WRITTEN BY A LONGTIME PAINTER, FIRST TIME “POET” ON A 3 WEEK SOLITARY CABIN RETREAT AT KARME CHOLING, TIBETAN BUDDHIST MEDITATION CENTER, IN BARNET, VERMONT FEBRUARY – MARCH 2018

“ why are Buddhists in retreat all the time; ………don’t we ever get to advance ? “ Larry Rosenberg

* 10th Century Buddhist Meditation Master

DEDICATIONS AND GRATITUDE _____________________________ TO LOUISE TO ALL BEINGS who made this retreat possible, which includes everyone everywhere in the truth and spirit of Inter-Being WITH SPECIAL THANKS TO MY TEACHERS THOSE IN ROBES Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche His Holiness the Dalai Lama Thich Nhat Hanh Mother Teresa THOSE NOT Dr. Frank L. Boyden Louis I. Kahn Neil Welliver Ram Dass Wolf Kahn Sharon Salzberg Larry Rosenberg Louise von Weise

RETREAT POEMS SECTION 1

THE SOUND OF 91 P. 7 _____________________________________________________ There’s a man who searches the globe, trying to record 15 minutes of complete silence and finds it hard to find. Jets whine overhead, diggers roar deep in the earth, chainsaws in forests, generators in jungles, and polar ice. We shatter blessed silence with our sounding throng. On retreat on a Vermont hillside, I hear birds, owls, insects scrittering squirrels, coydogs at moonrise, occasionally a moose. But baseline to it all, the unwavering hum of cars on Interstate 91, a mile away. Inside my cabin, windows closed to February’s chill…it’s quiet, day after day, breathe in, breathe out, to stem the tide of thought; while on the Interstate, at 65 miles per hour and more, they all have somewhere they seek to go, or to be …… As I seek goalless-ness going nowhere … slowly.

SAILOR TAKE WARNING P. 8 ______________________________________________________________ Electricity is up too late, T.V. radio, internet, books family, friends, and work, hold off natural dark. No electricity on retreat, outside light is stars and moon; inside light is propane, and fire behind the glass in the woodstove door (a sign says “please do not use candles”). This is how it was for ever, lives lived without electric power; it’s this way now on retreat, slowly according oneself to the sun. Red sky at morning meditation, we know the warning that brings; but maybe climate change has changed the sailor’s wisdom too? The sky stayed blue all day, the sun laughed at our presumption; shining it’s rays in timeless reminder, of true perspective, far greater than ours.

TIPS FROM TILOPA P.10 __________________________________________________________ “Let go of what has passed” “Let go of what may come” “Let go of what is happening right now” “Don’t try to figure anything out” “Don’t try to make anything happen” “Rest, Relax, Right Now, and rest ” But…what about ??? and…shouldn’t we ??? On retreat, watching late February sun melt snow … does it really matter? On nearby 91, I hear cars moving past… fast a mile a minute to appointments in Samara or just St. J. Either way St. Johnsbury or Samara, it’s still a drive towards death… so why the hurry ?? “Rest, Relax, Right Now! and rest. ”

LIMITED CHOICES P. 11 _____________________________________________________________ Meditate, chant, sleep, cook, eat, eliminate, walk, draw, write, meditate, think of Louise, meditate. No tasks, no plans, no dinner and a movie out, no music, TV, phone, no Trump, no travel, no bike, no painting. No conversation… save with saints and demons in my head. Could I live like this as “normal life” ? with Louise I could … And please, may I have painting too?

TILOPA AND THE 10 YEAR OLD P.15 _______________________________________________________ “Let go of what has passed” …Billy punched me at recess and took my ball. “Let go of what may be” …only 6 days to Christmas …then presents! “Let go of what’s happening right now” …the batteries on my GameBoy died …are we there yet? “ Don’t try to figure anything out “ … why am I so bored today ? “Don’t try to make anything happen” …why can’t I make things like I want them to be ? “Rest, Relax, Right Now, and rest” …aw c’mon lets play it again… On retreat I chant teachings of Tilopa; why weren’t they taught when I was 10 ?

CONTAINED AND CATASTROPHIC P. 16 ________________________________________________________ It’s cold at 3:00 a.m. … last night’s bet: 4 blankets against an unlit stove… lost. Time changes on retreat, no concern for clock, day starts when the body’s had its rest. Thus, with no concern for losing sleep, at 3:00 a.m. I rise, flashlight in hand at the stove; open damper, open door, stir the ashes, look for an orange - red glow… to catch the kindling, without needing paper, add firewood, left in readiness before. And marvel at the pleasure sudden warmth, of fire, contained in a cast iron stove brings . Oh Californians! with hills and homes blazing , compassion fills the heart, contemplating your conflagration.

6 AND 70 P. 17 _____________________________________________________________ Sun rose in a blue sky, I rose and smiled to see it. An hour gone, blue was turning grey, my mood greying too. Sun and clouds releasing rain, Allow for life on our whirling ball in space; Of no import, my self-important preference for the sun. “Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day.” Apples of our mothers’ eyes we sang, that sun and rain perform as we command. The first 6 years we thought that that was true, then 70 more to try to learn it’s not….. , and not feel somehow cheated.

DAY 8 OF A 21 DAY RETREAT P. 24 ________________________________________________________ Go ahead, even when you don’t know why, and each day’s questions are too big. “Known can never know unknown”, and knowing isn’t all important, if even possible. Today is day 8, tomorrow is day 9, Monday day 10, just show up and sit. “don’t try to figure anything out” “don’t try to make anything happen” * And don’t forget to breathe. *Tilopa, 10th Century Buddhist Meditation Master

TIMEX WATCHES P. 25 ______________________________________________________________ We bought 6 identical Timex years ago “ is that my watch, or yours ?” no more. A packing error, has 3 on this retreat was I secretly hoping to capture time? $15.00 each, for our Timex $15,000 for the Rolex in Sunday’s New York Times. Does “Millisecond Accuracy, Satellite Linked to Greenwich Mean”, mean so much ? Not to me. Seated on a cushion, hours a day, measuring time by breathing in, and breathing out. Let it go, the question needs no answer, And oh “ by the way, your time is almost up “.

THE LUXURY OF RETREAT P. 26 _____________________________________________________________ 6 Star Hotels are hot news in hospitality ; simplicity and solitude ….at a (high) price no phone, internet, radio, TV, newspapers et al. Their clients have so much, they no longer need to worry what happens in the world. A retreat cabin in Vermont. simplicity and solitude…. is almost free no phone, internet, radio, TV, newspapers et al. Retreatants aspire to no longer need, to know what happens in the world, just notice, accept and serve. The cabin is $25.00 per day, woodstove, propane, lights and cookstove, sink and shrine. The 6 Star Hotel is $2500.00 per night. Meditators have the right idea.

TIMES UP P. 27 _________________________________________________________ No matter your wealth, when your “time is up” you die. You carefully guard your treasures, Against the corruption of moth and rust. And yet, you fortunate few, you newly labeled one percent, How do you guard against the thief who steals your most precious treasure ? Time on earth, ticking by on the costly watch worn so proudly on your wrist ? Your wrist, with it’s unstoppable pulse, no matter what you buy, or how you try to slow its beat.

SQUIRREL, BIRD AND SMILE P. 35 _____________________________________________________________ On retreat, my squirrel brain runs and runs it’s frenzied wheel . Lots of energy expended, for the tiniest of gains. Like me with meditation, over 50 years, always repeating the same questions. As if salvation was in the answers, not right here, right now - if only I would see. Then a small bird, puffed full against late February chill; grey and white feathers, black head and beak alights on the cabin porch rail. I smile, am here again, breathe again, and try again to accept what is.

WALKING THE PATH TO YESHE * P. 40 ________________________________________________________________ Walking to Yeshe this afternoon, Yaxtrax weren’t needed, and so stayed home. The sun had shone all day, the temperature rose The bobsled run that’s been the path, for days, melting. I wondered if the moon stayed home as well ? I photographed her yesterday as I walked, rising over tree tops, across the far field, silver disc against a darkening blue sky. But then I note, it’s only 4:00 p.m. and recall, her showtime is 5:30 at this time of year. Nevermind, my friends will see her picture in my “Photo Journal” of this 3 Week Retreat; I hope they’ll think “ 3 weeks what devotion !!…. he’s spiritual !!” And I hope they’ll be impressed !!……. And in my self-importance, I wonder, was the moon impressed, when she saw me walk by ? * Yeshe = Wisdom - Also the name of the Retreat Cabin

PARKING PRIVILEGE P.42 ________________________________________________________ All traditions, teach putting “others first”, does that apply to parking too? Walking past parked cars at the Retreat Center, bumper stickers signal tribes: Tantra, yantra, zen, om, yin (and yang) peace signs, Greenpeace eco-flags; and a bumper sticker that asks: “Have You Rinsed Your Tofu Today?” Nearer the house, painted wooden signs in decreasing distance to the door, read: “Reserved for Registrar” “Reserved for Finance Director” “Reserved for Program Teachers” “Reserved for Executive Director” What of “others first”? a paradox… not to judge… just ponder.

WAITING FOR THE RAIN P. 55 ________________________________________________________ In Northern Vermont, spring comes late, signs of last week’s snow still on the ground. A bit less ice on the uphill path to the outhouse, but Yaktrax and poles are still a good idea. At 6:00 a.m. I’m out among bare young trees, ( leaves won’t bud for another month or more ). But on this cloudy warmish March morning, To my surprise, I find I’m waiting for the rain. Waiting for the first rain since October ( not strictly true ), and the sound of water falling in pattering drops. Instead of only the silent flakes of snow we have for half the year . Then suddenly, I’m not waiting for sounding drops of Spring, But for the first rain that ever fell, as if the earth and I are new.

PURKHANG * P. 56 _____________________________________________________________ From the retreat cabin porch I see the Purkhang standing on the hill. 31 years ago, 5,000 mostly Buddhists, mostly Americans, and High Lamas from Buddhist countries around the world, Sat that afternoon, in the ancient Tibetan ceremony that marks the passing of a great teacher; As Chogyam Trungpa, Rinpoche, 11th of his lineage transformed his body into ash, smoke and light. On that same hill, 17 years before, Trungpa planted the seed of Tibetan Dharma, for the first time in the West. It grew and flowers now around the world. A tiny part of (t)his great fecundity, I sit a 3 week solitary retreat, Trying to learn and trying not to try, with the Purkhang on the hill, to share the way. * Tibetan Cremation Monument for a High Lama

PATIENCE AND TRUST P. 63 ______________________________________________________________ Teachings of patience and trust shine through the tempered glass in the woodstove door. The lesson starts with the New York Times (perhaps the Boston Globe), kindling and matches. Adjust 2 dampers, one on the pipe, the other in the door; that done, strike a match, and sacred transmission begins. Advanced students then do nothing, just let go. Stalwart in Right Patience, confident with Right Trust in the natural laws of combustion and thermal draft, they rest secure, serene, knowing heat will inevitably rise. Seeing the same lessons, shining through the same glass door, the less advanced, not yet firm in Patience and Trust; Fret and cannot let it be; they open the door “to make sure” draft diminishes, the new fire hides and quells. They’ve yet to learn door dampers direct the air where needed, to feed the fire, open doors do not. They close the door and while they worry, flame returns, the damper working as it should. Lacking Trust they open the door again, “just to check” by thermal law and stove design, results repeat, flames disappear. Disappointed, they take a break for tea, amazed on their return, to see a blazing fire and hear it roar.

FOR THE BIRDS P.71 ____________________________________________________________ Last year on retreat, same time of year, same cabin, meditating on the same cushion, facing the same woods (a year shorter), through the same window; in the same small tree, there were 6 - 8 small birds, ( they move from branch to branch so fast, they’re hard to count ) who aren’t there this year. If this cabin had power, wifi, and a laptop, the National Weather Service, or Vermont’s, would show the day by day statistics for last year’s retreat and the same for now, for a clue to the Mystery of the Missing Birds; But 10th century Tilopa wrote “don’t try to figure anything out” the birds aren’t here, accept that that is so; perhaps they’ll return, before Friday when I go.

SIMPLIFY P. 76 _____________________________________________________________ Monastics simplify their choices, thus their lives; rising early they never face “a 1000 things to do”… just a handful. Solitary retreats offer simplicity, the often quoted “less is more”; no constant conversation, only silence, healing the spirit and freeing the mind. “Retreats aren’t normal life” none the less; they augment it… “being away” offers the time one needs, to see how one “normally” spends it. Do I want “a 1000 things to do?” For 3 weeks I’ve only had 8, cook, eat, sleep, tend the stove, read, write, draw, and oh yes…. meditate.

ABSOLUTES P.77 _____________________________________________________________ Decades ago at Easter, a movie, on some Saint opened with words across the screen: “for those who believe, no words, are necessary” “for those who do not believe, no words are possible” At 30 those words seemed miraculous and clear, older now and wiser ( or that’s the plan ) absolutes such as “unnecessary” and” impossible” raise questions. Words may not be “necessary” where belief exists, but words of those of longer years of faith and practice may deepen even a believers knowledge of truth. For non-believers, faith is buried like a bulb in soil, which watered with words of compassion, generosity and love, may bring the bulb to blossom and the heart to know belief.

TILOPA REDUX P.78 ______________________________________________________________ Chogyam Trungpa brought Tibetan Buddhism To America In the early 70’s, in Northern Vermont. We learned the wisdom of his Kagyu lineage, Marpa, Milarepa, Tilopa, Naropa, Gampopa, on down; Studied their teachings, tried to meditate like them, trying too hard, to free ourselves of “ trying “. Not much thought about Tilopa since then until a piece on his “6 Nails” brought him back to mind : “Let go of what has passed” “Let go of what may come” “Let go of what’s happening now” “Don’t try to figure anything out” “Don’t try to make anything happen” “Rest, relax, Right Now, and rest” Editor’s Caption: “Powerful meditation advice from a 10th Century Master “ Powerful indeed….the nails drove into my brain and stayed. Then, Tilopa showed up at the cabin, to join me on retreat; I serve tea, he speaks, I listen, there’s so much to learn from him. When he arrived, we smiled; we both said “welcome back”…. but it wasn’t clear then, still not now, which of us has been away ? I’d thought of asking him; but now have a question that’s new; when I return home in 3 days…. is Tilopa coming too ?

INTER-BEING POEMS SECTION 2

TREAD LIGHTLY P.3 ______________________________________________________________ Vibram, herringbone, crisscross ridges, logos and more, stamped into fresh snow by boots walking Tiger Path, through the trees. Do the treads function differently, or simply advertise ?. Waiting for a flight, watch running shoes walking by, in the airport; so many brands; do their wearers feel the difference… if they run? Backpacks, duffels, suitcases, garment bags, hard or soft rolling bags, pulled behind or rolled by your side….how to decide ? Treads, running shoes, luggage, are these the choices of our lives?

WOODSTOVES SEEM SIMPLE P. 4 ____________________________________________________________ Put in wood, light it, get heat. But others cut the wood stacked by the cabin, others cut the kindling stacked in the box ; Others left matches and the New York Times since paper catches quickly , consigning old news to the fire. Stove tells a tale of others in Finland, (unknown to me, but not each other ) casting their lot together, casting iron. It shipped over the Baltic, with a crew of Finns, Laps, Russians and an Estonian or two; then by bigger ship, to America. A trucker who’s a grandson, son, and perhaps father of son’s himself, to keep his line alive; took it from the port, North to Vermont On Firestones, Goodyear’s or perhaps for symmetry Nokia’s, to this cabin, where stove, chimney flue and damper set to work; heating retreatants, past and yet to come, and me the current incarnation sitting alone learning of connections and interbeing.

CROWDED CABIN P. 5 ____________________________________________________________ Thank you to all who made this privileged isolation possible. Road builders, cabin builders, walls, roofs, floors, windows and doors, fashioners of nails, screws and staples; creators of cupboards, cups, dishes, pots, pans, propane stoves, and lights, sinks, sponges, shrines, All made elsewhere, by others, earning their daily dollar; who were raised, fed, clothed, taught and trained, and do the same for their children, who’ll grow up, go off, and start it all again. And all the while, I sit in solitary splendor, meditating in my self- sufficient ignorance, save for fortunate glimpses, of the crowd in the cabin.

THE ILLUSION OF “I” P.6 ____________________________________________________________ Compassion teaches “benefit all beings”, “others first”, “be a refuge for those in need”, “a candle in the dark”. My darkness is a wind of fear, howling “me first ” It’s hard to keep a candle lit against the gale of self. Self- Pity, Self- Center, Self- Satisfaction and all other illusionary Selfs, blowing need and greed. How long to reverse the curse of seeing only Self ? Life patterns change at geologic speed. How long to see our helplessness at birth and death ? in need of others’ care…..but thankfully, they’re there. Parents, siblings, playmates, schoolmates, helpmates, teachers, guides, and gurus and the universe of unknown others; whose daily efforts, meet our daily needs: food and shelter and rest. Stop, see the truth and offer gratitude, dispel the illusion of “I”.

WHITE SUSHI RICE P. 9 ____________________________________________________________ Last week white sushi rice was purchased at Sterling Market in Johnson, Vermont. This week the rice was eaten, on retreat, 1 hour away in Barnet, Vermont. Retreats often evolve an unplanned focus last year…. Gratitude, “ Namu Amida Butsu “ This year “ interdependence” and “inter-being”; the underlying web of connections present, past and future of everything, everywhere. So I learn to thank the soil, sun and rain where rice is grown and all involved who grow and get it from there to here. In a cabin in Vermont, rice cooks on a propane stove And as it does, surrounding separateness dissolves.

SCANDINAVIANS P.13 _______________________________________________________ Another day. Thank you sun, snow, tree, logger, millhand, trucker, all alive within this sheet of paper. Gratitude for pen, ink, table, chair, windows, cabin and contents. And on this frigid day, especially to the Finns who made the stove. Or is the stove from Denmark ? …….and with that thought, have generations of stove making Finns, suddenly disappeared, replaced by neighboring Danes, doing the same cast iron dance? Finn or Dane, the wood the stove is burning, was cut by a chainsaw from Sweden. These Scandinavians certainly know their way around their wood.

GRANOLA P.18 _____________________________________________________________ Retreats concentrate the mind, and open the heart with each breath, in, out, long, short, hours and days on end. Awareness expands of what was, what is, what is yet to be, And of all the sentient beings there in. At breakfast with granola, once again the crowd arrives: farmer, with sires and sons (seeds of other sorts), tractor driver, harvester, trucker, millhand, wholesaler, merchant, “butcher, baker, candlestick maker” they strain the cabin walls…. but maybe today…. I’ll have an egg ?

LE ZIE P.19 _____________________________________________________________ Claudio owns Le Zie, the Venetian restaurant with the orange awning, on the corner of 20th and 7th in New York. Charming, he smiles in acknowledgment when I come alone, or with Louise; since he’s seen us dine with Emily and Wolf for years. I doubt he knows my name, but his “nice to see you again” is always friendly and his food is always good. How many restaurants are there in New York ? 10,000…? or is that Taxis? Each a savory star orbited by: owners, chefs (sometimes the same) servers, staff, cleaners, purveyors of food, wine, fresh baked bread, dishes, glasses, cutlery tables, chairs, linens bars, liquor, liquor licenses, health inspectors, accountants, insurance agents and service men for lights, heat, refrigeration plumbing, phones, computers the orange awning torn by last Thursdays heavy wind, printers, Trip Advisor ratings, Zagats too. All the players on these culinary stages, harbor hopes, for themselves and families some want a high school diploma, others one from Yale. At LeZie, I enjoy my time at the table, sometimes imagine Venice, and get a nod and a word from Claudio as he passes by.

CLIMATE CHANGE p.25 _____________________________________________________________ Sunshine brings a smile. So do happy dogs, happy babies, happy children. Is it that way around the globe ? or is appreciation altered by geography? Clouds bring smiles in other climes, a cloudburst joy, a rainstorm, jubilation. T.V. weather persons “ mail it in ““sunny and dry today, low 79, high 97” what will be done when low is 101? When overloaded grids give up the ghost, in cold climates, we’ll burn trees for heat; but will the air conditioners still hum ? without power to the plug, they don’t run. Future climate questions vex the West, while in India, Asia and Africa, today, 4 billion don’t have the power even now to make the manmade climate changers go. They don’t have the power, but do have their phones, to call up their desires. They seek the cities with their light and noise, in hopeful quest of pots of gold. While in smiling paradox, I choose a cabin, in the woods, and meditate, to free myself from my desires in the simplicity and silence they shun.

SELF-ABSORPTION, FAMILY, FORGIVENESS SECTION 3

MILAREPA AND TILOPA OFFER ADVICE P. 21 ________________________________________________________ In the 7th Century Milarepa said: “if demons enter your cave, don’t fight, offer them a cup of tea” In the 10th Century Tilopa said: “ Don’t try to figure anything out ” “ Rest, Relax, right now, and rest ” In 1945 when I was born, my mother killed herself. War had raged for 6 preceding years, children by tens of thousands lost parents. Since 1945 I’ve sorrowed for myself, but still haven’t won the prize for “ Saddest Childhood Ever ” … a cup of tea, perhaps?

ONCE MORE AROUND THE PARK P.22 ________________________________________________________ Laugh it off, but the fearful question remains is this real or a play, I write anew each day ? Figure it out, but have I authored my trying to understand, as part of the play ? On retreat mantras are chanted Have I written my chanting in the script ? “a man went to sleep and and dreamed he was a butterfly; when he awoke he wondered was he a butterfly dreaming he was a man? ” Chicken or egg…who’s on first ? “sit” on it for another lifetime, then look at it again.

“OTHERS FIRST “ P. 23 _________________________________________________________ “Others First” is not news, it’s been around for years. Sometimes banner headlines, sometimes midway down an inner page. All teachings put “others first” we all are urged to “ inter-be “; serve in gratitude, give thanks, for all the blessings we’ve been given. Self-absorption, didn’t calm the fears, nor bring light and warmth to dark hiding places. Putting love first brings a gift of grace; open the heart’s iron door invite “others” in, put them “ first “.

ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT MY MOTHER AT 100 P.40 ________________________________________________________ Jeanette, my mother, killed herself at 28 I was 6 months old. Now I’m 72, so she’s 100. Probably frail, a little stooped, hard of hearing, failing eyesight and if she walks, its probably with a walker. This is the superwoman, sought all these years, who’ll swoop in, gather me in her arms; smother me with kisses and endearments, calming all confusion, pain and fear in an instant, and of course, forever more. Pretty Good Trick eh? A week into retreat, Forgiveness came by the cabin; I made tea, listened and learned. Now I’m talking with Jeanette, 28 year old unhappy, slightly crazy, guilt ridden mother of 3. “ Unhappy “ ? Happy people aren’t suicides. “ Slightly crazy ” ? Her mother in a “funny farm” for 40 years. “ Guilt ridden “ ? She probably felt guilty abandoning newborn me perhaps she’s felt that guilt for the past 72 years ? I ask her, she concurs and cries, I forgive. Forgiving her has joined my daily dharma chants and mantras…could I add my father too?

INTER-BEING WITH MY FATHER’S FEET P.45 _____________________________________________________________ One day, you look down and see you have your father’s feet. You’ve passed the secret balance point between how old you were, when you noticed your father had “old man’s feet” and how old you are, when you notice you’re wearing them. So now, on retreat, with my fathers feet, I practice walking meditation, mindfully, slowly I go on the path, to which the guru’s teaching points the way… and as I start to walk, I hear my heart ask my father to walk with me.

MY FATHER P.62 _____________________________________________________________ Louise and I have lived together almost 50 years and hope for many more. My life with love so different than my father’s, without. Occasionally we pass in dreams, but never talk or touch, our troubled history makes us wary. Retreat is solitary, but suddenly I find him here; sharing my body, hands, feet, lips pursed in thought sharing my eyes for us both to see the world. Has he been waiting to get me without Louise? or maybe my mother’s told him I’m learning to forgive and he thought, if I’m forgiving her ….why not him?