Buddha's Dogs, by Susan Browne

Buddha's Dogs

I'm at a day-long meditation retreat, eight hours of watching
my mind with my mind,
and I already fell asleep twice and nearly fell out of my chair,
and it's not even noon yet.

In the morning session, I learned to count my thoughts, ten in
on minute, and the longest
was to leave and go to San Anselmo and shop, then find an outdoor cafe and order a glass

of Sancerre, smoked trout with roasted potatoes and baby
carrots and a bowl of gazpacho.
But I stayed and learned to name my thoughts, so far they are:
wanting, wanting, wanting,

wanting, wanting, wanting, wanting, wanting, judgment,
sadness. Don't identify with your
thoughts, the teacher says, you are not your personality, not your
ego-identification,

then he bangs the gong for lunch. Whoever, whatever I am is
given instruction
in the walking meditation and the eating meditation and walks
outside with the other

meditators, and we wobble across the lake like The Night of the
Living Dead.
I meditate slowly, falling over a few times because I kept my
foot in the air too long,

towards a bench, sit slowly down, and slowly eat my sandwich,
noticing the bread,
(sourdough), noticing the taste, (tuna, sourdough), noticing
the smell, (sourdough, tuna),

thanking the sourdough, the tuna, the ocean, the boat, the
fisherman, the field, the grain,
the farmer, the Saran Wrap that kept this food fresh for this
body made of food and desire

and the hope of getting through the rest of this day without
dying of boredom.
Sun then cloud then sun. I notice a maple leaf on my sandwich.
It seems awfully large.

Slowly brushing it away, I feel so sad I can hardly stand it, so I
name my thoughts; they are:
sadness about my mother, judgment about my father, wanting
the child I never had.

I notice I've been chasing the same thoughts like dogs around
the same park most of my life,
notice the leaf tumbling gold to the grass. The gong sounds,
and back in the hall.

I decide to try lying down meditation, and let myself sleep. The
Buddha in my dream is me,
surrounded by dogs wagging their tails, licking my hands.
I wake up

for the forgiveness meditation, the teacher saying, never put
anyone out of your heart,
and the heart opens and knows it won't last and will have to
open again and again,

chasing those dogs around and around in the sun then cloud
then sun.

--Susan Browne

Comments

[Kathryn]

I appreciate this, Nacho, and am glad you posted it. Apt imagery. Aren't we all like the The Night of the Living Dead until we wake up?

[Karen]

I second that emotion.

[Nacho]

Kathryn, Karen, glad you liked that poem. I like it very much also. Especially because it is so simple, and straightforward, but most importantly because I can see my own experience reflected! It brings to mind a sesshin I attended many years ago now in the Blue Ridge mountains, and how my mind kept wanting to go out of there! Wanting, wanting, wanting, wanting! : ) I had to smile when I read that. So true.

Kathryn, you are right, we are all probably like that. : ) In so many ways. But we also wake up, and we re-direct our lives. Even if we fall asleep again from time to time. I remind my students that waking up and going back at it is much of mindfulness.

Karen, thanks for stopping by also! I'm honored that you stopped by this den of iniquity and mindlessness. : ) I'll be exploring your site and purchasing the book!

Best,

N

[Jen]

Thank you for posting the poem. I've been lurking on your site for a while and have enjoyed several of the poems you've posted in the past.
Jen

[Nacho]

Jen, thanks for the post, and for lurking! : ) Please excuse the crazyness of everything else. I'm glad you've enjoyed the poems.

Best,

N

[mazzie]

A friend pointed me to this it it reminded me of my week-long retreat not too long ago. Reminded me to tears.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.

[kitano0]

this poem meant so much. in fact, i think i experienced a kind of kensho experience from it. the "same dogs same park" quotation is something i have been using as a mindfulness mantra of sorts.this poem conveys the meditation experience better than anything i have read (and believe me, i have read a lot!)

thank you