The Perfection of Giving

He, who sees things – wisdom saw,
How living beings remain so poor,
Holding onto grains of sand,
No bird in bush, no bird in hand.

Saving for that rainy day,
The miser never gives away,
And in the clutching never has,
In giving’s cause; the act whereas.

To go against our fear of loss,
The sharing of the coins we toss.
And letting go is coming back,
Relinquishing will never lack.

The secret to our wealth is give,
To go beyond the life we live.
We cannot take it when we die,
This karmic gift in truth provides.

Reliance Upon a Spiritual Guide

Prostrate in supplication
Eyes like waterfalls
My mind, my mind is breaking!
Help me, whoever you are.

Tiny, little man
Dressed in saffron
Eyes like jewels
With just a hint of

I had crossed over
To the realm of demons
Haunted and broken
Alone and lost
I called to him

A moment
Just a moment
And he took me
And led me to safety
Under the shelter of

He opened the book
and began to read
and filled my mind
with wisdom’s seed
Gave me his breath
so I could breathe

And then,
Healed and restored,
He said, “Now, breathe into them”.

This body of mine and your body, O Father,
This speech of mine and your speech, O Father,
This mind of mine and your mind, O Father,
Through your blessings may they become
Inseparably one.

Superior Seeing

Into the world screaming, the baby cries, feeling fear, pain, myriad sensations and a solid sense of I.

Child of seven, rides, carefree, wind blowing in her hair, still she feels the same sense of self, even though not one thought, not one feeling, not one molecule of the baby she was is any more.

Teenager now, flirting with the boys, dancing into her bloom, flushed and thrilled with life, she still feels her I, as solid as the day she was born.

Young woman, pensive and searching, questioning the thread of life, remembering back to her youth when that feeling of “Oh, no, I’m back on the wheel” came to her. I, still there, that continuous self superimposed upon the ever-changing, impermanence of body and mind.

In the balance of midlife, she comes to view the I through wisdom’s scope. Through anger, in fear, when making love, in sorrow, it’s there, always there, the thread of “me”.

The cause and basis of experiential existence: A mother leaves, the pain of I. A man invades, the shame of I. A father’s madness, the fear of I. The changing of one mother to another, and another, the I’s uncertainty. The birthing of a child, the pride of I. The marrying of a man, the epochs of I. The finding of religions and paths, the searchings of I. The breakdown, the madness of I. The finding of him, the saving of I. The finding of wisdoms, the finding of I. The I looking at I, the I looking at I.

Training in Meditation

Choose an object to focus on,
Let virtue be its purposed nub.
Gathering thoughts to sit upon,
Singular in central-aimed hub.

Lose your grip, so tighten your hold,
The wand’ring mind like thunder clouds.
A gentle entreat to unfold,
The softness of point, yet unbowed.

Persistence is key to conquer,
Bringing it back, and back again.
Aiming to wait in it longer,
Seeking, finding, holding – then stay.

Mind becomes strong with this training,
Like eagles in flight, a gliding.
Delicate pause in remaining,
A perfect tranquil abiding.


Another tree, this one bears eternal fruit,

If I give to one I receive the effects of giving to one,

If I give to countless, the effects are immeasurable.

Giving, as with all other perfections, is a mental intention, not always an outward action.

This is the tree I plant for harvest in future lives,

The fruit I will enjoy with all other living beings.

The inner light of wisdom, ignited by the Able Ones inside me, for the illumination of all.

A lamp for the path.

Water in a drought.

Food in the famine.

Medicine in sickness (physical and spiritual).

Whatever is needed. I will serve.

To drink tea, a teacup is needed. Living beings’ eternal joy is the tea – enlightenment is the cup.

Since there is no separation of self and other, I will strive for the names:

Awakened One
Able One
Dakini (Skydancer)




Basis for mounting compassion.

Becoming Clear and bright;

Inhale black smoke,
Destroy all suffering.
Exhale pure light,
Giving four gifts:

Material needs,

Exhale love…
Inhale compassion…
Exhale love…
Inhale compassion…

Cooling hot hells,
Thawing cold realms,
Feeding hungry ghosts,
Protecting animals,
Guiding humans,
Pacifying demi gods,
Immortalising gods of,
Desire realm, form and formlessness.

Clear the ground,
Fill the sky,
Radiate love,
Throughout the ten directions,
And three times.

Like the dawning sun,
Fill existence with love –
and light


hallowed breath.

Wishing Love

There’s a restlessness in this fickle place,
A need for constant circumstantial change,
“Variety is, still, the spice of life”,
A longing for perpetual exchange.

There’s no happiness here in this quagmire,
No lasting contentment is to be found.
As soon as we taste it, the moment fleets,
Our feet never fall onto solid ground.

We’re chasing reflections cast by our mind,
Thirsting for water in the desert sand.
Fooled by the temporal shift of our lot,
Hoodwinked by the magician’s sleight of hand.

My heart yearns for a permanent answer,
For all my Dearest Ones to find their peace.
To abide in unending contentment,
And from dissatisfaction, sweet release.


This is the magical practice of taking the suffering of all living beings mounted upon the breath:

I sit, surrounded by all sentient beings,
From the highest formless realms,
to the lowest rivers of Hell.

At my heart, lies a black seed,
The root of my self cherishing,
The cause of all the suffering,
There is in this world.

I see them, stretched out, boundless,
And allow my compassion to manifest,
Seeing their suffering, with my heart of love,
I cannot bear it for a moment longer.

In the form thick black smoke,
All of their suffering takes form,
Endless suffering, since beginningless time,
Gathers into universal storm clouds.

With a compassionate heart,
I inhale the suffering of all living beings,
Drawing it down into my heart,
Their suffering destroys my black seed.

I keep breathing in all their pain
Until thin wisps become nothing,
And my black seed is destroyed.
Until they are free of torment,
And I am free of holding myself paramount.

And then I hold a joy,
“Finally, we are free”.

Great Compassion

“How wonderful it would be,
if all these living beings,
were permanently free from suffering”.

I cannot bear the suffering of all these living beings,
so precious to me,
in so much agony.

Even the happiness they seek,
longingly for,
is snatched away by circumstance,
or death.

Their birth gives rise to ageing,
sickness and death
and all their lives they ache and cry and scream and weep,
losing and never having, or having to endure.

Clutching onto dreams,
hallucinations, appearances to mind,
heartbroken by apprehensions,
which pull and push all over.

No freedom,
without choice,
helplessly at the mercy of karma,
from life to life,
their agony and disappointment.

These beautiful beings,
who have treated me with such kindness,
are prisoners in this swamp of samsara.

“How wonderful it would be,
if all these living beings,
were permanently free from suffering.”

Exchanging Self With Others

If what we seek lays not upon our part,
But in the cherished acts we give to others,
Let guiding light of altruism’s heart,
Forget ourselves, immerse in all our mothers.

This mountain of our self, we stand aloft,
Is but a concept brought about by mind,
And in the valley ice peaks become soft,
A melting of our love for all mankind.

The fear of loss, or being left without,
Prevents the magic coming from release,
The cherishing of self we must renounce,
And therein find in “other” our heart’s peace.

This goes against the grain of all we’re told,
And few have braved relinquishing self love,
This holy transmutation into gold,
Cast out the “I”, hold “other” high above!