In My Garden

There grows foxglove, primrose, heather and yarrow, sage, dianthus, lavender and laurel. Each day I review, nurture and tend and wonder about that which is beneath the ground.

Some say that for strength the roots have to search, that amending the soil diminishes reach. I will offer myself to you someday and become a helix with feet of clay. The lack of amendments will not subdue my rise from decay to a skin of blue.

But now is the time to feel the August warmth and smell the dusk drifting in from the south, to watch the play of sun on the purples and greens and persuade the brief blossoms, linger their wings.

Emily Florence

Kismet

Her Hands

Pears and Dreams

We planted a pear tree near the back gate. Through the summer we watered it and dreamed of a life in Johnson Canyon, red rocks and sage trees to color our lives.

The nights are tinged with coolness now and the pear tree a golden brown. Our dream fades into that place where dreams winter because they are, after all, an illusion.

Next year pears will grace the branches, reminding me of the possibility of dreams, some to be forgotten and others becoming as real as the taste of cool fruit in my mouth.

Emily Florence

Possession

The lion king past his prime still commanded glory, ignored by those unable to see his scars from ancient battles. The lioness wandered from a different strata searching for familiar grounds.

They circled, smelled the scent of forgotten lives, then joined. She licked his amber coat and feared the salty taste. He sank his teeth into the softness of her neck, drank the warmth and took what he thought was his.

The jungle-gods screamed as they watched her body rise from the dust and lope into the red sky with a heart of thunder.

Emily Florence

On Emptiness

When emptiness is possible, everything is possible. Were emptiness impossible, nothing would be possible. Nagajuna

As I meditated late one night, I felt plates of armor like an armadillo’s begin to fall away. As they fell, I became more and more free, lighter, brighter. What were the plates made of? What was I shedding? The concept of emptiness is integral to the practice of Buddhism. This concept has been known intellectually to me for some time but I have struggled to attain the pure knowledge which comes through the direct experience of meditation. Thich Nhat Hahn speaks of a flower which is emptiness. The flower is color, form, petals, stem, sunshine, earth, nutrients and water which allow it to exist. The flower is full of the cosmos and empty of separateness, not existing without many other elements. Every experience is empty of self. Nothing exists without many other elements. Emptiness is a lack of self.

Both formerly and now, I teach only suffering and the cessation of suffering. This was the Buddha’s sole interest. The truth of impermanence is a cornerstone of Buddha’s teachings. We suffer because we hold onto things that are ever changing, ever disappearing, ever evolving. Craving leads to clinging to those things which leads to suffering. This craving is known as attachment. The end of desire, the end of grasping and clinging is the end of the sense of lack. Through study, reflection and meditation and by abiding in the present moment throughout each minute of each day, the plates of armor surely fall away. I return to my original empty nature and find pure awareness. I am the silence. I am the emptiness.

Emily Florence