Slowing Down With The Dharma

 —Poetry and Photos by James Lee Jobe,
Davis, CA

 

 

I love the tule fog—it looks like magic
and in the deep grays of winter
I wish for it—a fog of loveliness
to hug this good earth
in this good valley

 

 

 

 

There are monkeys in your head. Through your eyes the world sees these monkeys dancing. Through your ears the world can hear the music they dance to. You may ask, “Why are there monkeys dancing in my head?” It’s a fair question at this point. The monkeys in your head are dancing because it’s fun in there. It’s a good head to be in, and the music has a nice beat. Why not look, listen, and dance? 

 

 

 

 

Crows were watching, they often do. 

The sun was white-hot and rippled with fine torso muscles. 

The world sprang upwards toward my sullen footsteps. 

My heart beat as it should, my lungs breathed in and out, in and out. 

We had hoed the weeds from the hard rows of tomatoes and beans 

and okra like men of the earth. 

I felt like a man of the earth, a man of the soil, even though I was still a boy. 

My father did not like physical displays of affection between us, 

and I often felt that he did not love me, 

but on that day I reached up and took his hand anyway. 

And that day, that rare day that I will always remember, he gave me his hand, 

and then finally, his most private smile. 

It was another ordinary day, over 60 years ago. 

Crows were watching, they often do. 

I was walking in my father's long shadow. 

 

 

 

 

Moonlight floods the valley like a forest fire  
a full moon and a lunar eclipse  
the shadow of the earth passes across 
the face of the moon  
but neither of them greets the other  
friend there is silence as the universe moves

 

 

 

I found the dharma late in life, so I learned to slow down just as I needed to slow down anyway. It is good to hang on to the moment that is happening now and to let go of all the foolishness of my past. Yes, I have been a fool many times, but right now a hummingbird is blessing the early blossoms on my peach tree and inside the house my wife is singing. Breathe in and out slowly. I am still alive.

_________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Peace: the stillness between two seconds.

—James Lee Jobe

_________________

Welcome back to James Lee Jobe with his fine poems and photos this morning! It’s been awhile since he visited the Kitchen, and it’s good to see his writings here again! He says: “I have turned off most social media. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, etc. Gone. If you need to reach me, email me at jamesleejobe@gmail.com. If you have my number, you can call me or text. I have kept one social media site, Bluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/jamesleejobe.bsky.social/.

“I have also dropped my blog, and instead post poems on my Substack: https://substack.com/@bookofjobe/.”

Thanks again, James, and we’ll hear from you the next time—soon, I hope!

_________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 A hummingbird blesses the flower . . .
—Public Domain Photo Courtesy of Medusa

 

 

 

 

A reminder that the
Sacramento Buddhist Meditation Group
will hold a workshop today,
"Writing Towards Awakening", with
Laura Rosenthal, starting at 10am;
Mosaic of Voices meets in Lodi
with Gary Thomas and
Salvatore Salerno, 2pm; and
Sacramento Poetry Alliance
presents Judie Rae, Judy Crowe, and
Ellen Reynard in Sacramento, 4pm.
For info about these and other
future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
 during the week.

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
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