By Terrance Keenan
Embark on a poignant and occasionally comedian trip via Zen, poetry, and the transformative, own perform of writing.
In Zen Encounters with Loneliness Terrance Keenan weaves jointly poetry, memoir, and uncooked perception to offer voice to the lonely “nobody” in every body. From his stories of early youth to his struggles with dependancy, writer’s block, and human courting, Keenan offers a heart-rending portrayal of the human starvation for selfhood and connection. via his fantastically crafted literary reflections, he reveals that Zen doesn't convenience our dream of being someone, fairly, it unearths connection in simple terms once we face who we actually are—nobody. Zen Encounters intimately calls us to acknowledge that the good of vacancy is additionally a good of potential—to develop, study, and conquer adversity.
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It doesn't swap something. LULLABY OF THE RUINED ROOM OF blunders Yesterday’s undies sleeps through the foot of the mattress. The mattress digs its fats legs into the rug dreaming of rumpled weight. The curtains, the dirt in corners, the aches and phrases that lie in shadows, the knobs, latches, the cat within the socks lower than the mattress, the frozen flooring that holds the noisily snoring residence, mess ups and fears twitching like outdated canines dreaming, the mouse droppings and flies stuck in a lazy internet all sleep. not anything is sensible or conscious, each one at relaxation in itself at nighttime with no witness.
Rather than pleasure at ultimately listening to these longed-for phrases, i used to be sour at what appeared a daft deathbed conversion. whilst he did die, I wasn’t there. nobody used to be. on my own. In unimaginable discomfort, the lifetime of this fiercely mild, hard-working guy ended. on the funeral I learn from Thomas’s “Do no longer pass light into That sturdy evening. ” there have been many of us. His brothers, pals, all in tears. I had none, until eventually I got here to those traces: and also you, my father, there at the unhappy peak, Curse, bless me now together with your fierce tears I pray.
Who have been those humans? How may possibly I seek advice from them? Did they know the way badly I had fucked up? i needed to be on my own. i needed my relations again. i wished out. A black man in a protracted brown overcoat limped as much as me. “You new? ” “Yes. ” “My name’s Ahmed. the way you doin’? ” “I’m Terry. i believe like shit. ” “Yeah, good, so does every body else right here. the place you from? ” And so we begun speaking. This stranger spoke as if there has been not anything fallacious with me—I used to be simply one other man in trouble—but human. He restored my human dignity by means of his basic kindness.
In her final couple of years, I went over as soon as every week, ostensibly to paintings along with her on her relations historical past, yet truly to wash up the mess she had made as she’d fade out and in of insulin difficulties, and in addition to maintain her corporation within the lengthy chats over figures in her family’s previous. After her final stroke I went to work out her each day within the medical institution. I needed to feed her as the nurses in basic terms left the nutrition on a tray for her, yet her mouth had turn into so swollen from drying out and her grip on consuming utensils so tenuous she was once getting extra foodstuff on her chest than in her mouth.
Twigs crack within the wind. We fumble the instruments, our tongues stutter. gentle is a possibility. With it we see merely to the sting of it. Now the owl speaks out. Snow falls regardless and sluggish. Time and making in time are made. mendacity jointly within the morning, stuck through expectancies, stuck via snow flickering on glass with out edges, we see basically faceless gray mild. as soon as with out a identify ever so, the wild unmade stars alive in our upturned faces. behavior OF BEING whilst I took that first step among the wind I nonetheless felt your suggestions floating via mine.