logo Sitting still, time to time. Thanks for checking out my blog. I primarily talk about Zen and art, whether that's me intermittently posting poe...
A man was executed in Minneapolis today. Ji Jang Bosal. There’s the hurt of seeing the event, the needless loss of life. But then there’s a secondary hurt - suffering - that I inflict on myself. “Who do I have to comfort?” “Will I be called to act?” “How will the President respond?” “What’s going to happen?” My infinite quiver of arrows. What’s the difference between sheltering in the practice and…
changes to their Bear Blog website, comment feature, navigation bar, email subscriber list. 2026 art goals, Art History (Ancient Medieval) Drawing Fundamentals. Zen practice.
DHARMA SPEECH OF THE THIRD SEAT Master Ang Sahn had a dream in which he went to the place where Maitreya was teaching and was given the third seat. A venerable monk struck the table with a gavel and said, “Today the talk will be given by the monk of the third seat.” Ang Sah then struck the table with the gavel and said, “The Dharma of Mahayana goes beyond the Four Propositions and transcends the…
Each month, I spend at least one of my weekends away from home at a Zen center. I wake up to the sound of a bell, shuffle into a room with about 15 other people and complete 108 full body prostrations before spending the majority of the next 18 hours sitting completely motionless on a cushion facing the wall. Everything is conducted in silence. Meals are communal. Distractions, from phones to…
I adore the process of creating art but struggle to keep it as a consistent practice. This year, I would like to change that. Normally, I’m very opposed to any sort of New Year’s resolution. Resolutions should, in my mind, come from an internal place and not a calendar mandate, which is why, perhaps, this posts feels so awkward to write. I’ve begun to recognize that I cycle through hobbies.…
Perhaps Once I’ve got all the Facts I can draft from it Spin wiry yarn and Wear myself a cloak of misery
Language is A footprint in the snow Campfire smoke and The slit of a bleeding wound A man casts his finger and says, “Look!” Into a sea of stars Take your pick Which do you like?
You, a sword of hot steel Could wait, tempered cool Or skewer wet flesh And destroy yourself
cat’s roving outline in dawn’s dim dusk pick a form you like smile at what you’ve created
When the center is strong, Even tall, Dutch men with silly names Like Grink or something Cannot diminish you You do not guess or fret You are And how can you apologize for that? Or 400 eyes and A cube microphone (?) How can a bag of skin make itself feel THAT bad? And perhaps it just is And so are they