by Vijali Hamilton I Golden we are, sitting on our throne of bark and earth, bathed in sunlight, smoldering in the cauldron of life. Essence of sun and earth flows through our veins, radiant as the child taking her first look at the world— earth in her mouth, and mud...
Mother Moose Some days I feel as happy as a Mother Moose— with her face as long as the day, and her eyes as wide as the sky: on those days I feel free and untrammeled, footloose, like her when her baby has finally struck out on its own; because you just never know,...
by Russell Atkinson “All this is honey to all this,” the old man said, his honey-brown flesh shining from his outstretched arms. Up and over his head they went then down until his fluid fingers touched the leaves on the forest floor. His hands, still beautiful in...
Pain A barefooted man Walked in front of me With a bad limp Pulling his empty rickshaw, I caught up with him And asked what happened, In broken Bengali, He uttered, “Pain.” One Look In one look, You gave so much sweetness To an old, wounded beggar, That he felt like a...
1. A turtle withdraws Its legs, I withdraw My will Into the shell of Self I am witness 2. Peonies opening Infinitesimally burgeoning Like two moons full, glistening On the clear, cool windowpane Of consciousness EDITH DICKINSON TIPPLE lives in Santa Barbara, CA...
by William Page [Reprinted by permission of the author] Among my father’s papers when he died was an account of a picture he had bought in a Shanghai flea market. This was a framed painting of Kuan Yin Pusa, the Bodhisattva of Compassion, “She who heeds the cries of...
Tongue-tied, dumb, before the man of letters who plants seed words in dead tongues Anna Monday has been a member of the Vedanta Society of Southern California since 1970. She studied writing at Santa Monica College and the University of California at Los...
by Russell Atkinson The Word god To most, the word god is a mere sound in the air; an imagined being, existing nowhere. To many, the word god is a sound in the air, relating to a mystery, other where. To more, the word god is a sound in the ear, an awesome concept,...
by Steven F. Walker [A Christian legend probably dating back to the third century has it that Pontius Pilate, driven to suicidal desperation by the memories of his role in the crucifixion of Christ, drowned himself in the Rhone River somewhere near the modern city of...
by Richard Simonelli Good, bad, happy, sad, many flavors, a single taste. Realize the limitless through limitations, within limitations. Confusion dawns as wisdom without eliminating confusion; sorrow, negativity, anger, despair they flicker in and out. Single flavor,...
