Bill Fell 11/24/20

Big-ass Chinese Pistache tree
  Aflame over rooftops
    Sunrise delight

Bill Fell 10/27/20 and 11/9,11/20

For Elizabeth, Patti and Lyle

                                     1.

Silver halos radiate from each footstep
Fade away at a stroller’s pace
Time to consider modern hominin imprints

Driftwood finds haven in a cliff face crack
A friend spots a flying alligator sculpture
Once seen, there it is, until whenever

Sand dollars, small crabs, heads or tails
All strewn along a tidal line
Far less fleeting than blankets of foam

Pelican squadron approaches from 9:00
Eyeing our camera, they line up, waving up and down
Out of sight, no fishing, they’ve somewhere else to be

A free-range black lab gallops across 
Sands, dry-warm, wet-cool, totally unscripted
Huge grins, gaiety all around
 

                                        2.


Driving through familiar landscapes, 
and ultimately to a place I’ve never been 

Seventy years on and just now getting to Bolinas
Causes and auspicious conditions line up

Tiny-town, hippie, artsy, maritime dankness
Fitting it all in to my storylines

Conga drums set up for some tunes later-on?
Perhaps.  But we’re just passing through

The one-room museum honors an elderly local bookmaker
Her old printing press, typefaces, graphics, poesy, thread  

Tide rushes out as seals head-bob in the current
When and where they’ll be next, being the question 

Pelicans roost on their for--now feeding ground
Co-existing with other species

Surfers dress up to catch a pre-dusk wave
For once this weekend, I’m not overdressed

Bill Fell 10/10/20

“To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts”

Henry David Thoreau

So, finally I break down and get a smart phone.  And I am actually carrying it with me when I remember.  So why the change of heart?  I was finally persuaded that to NOT carry a phone is not exactly in step with the bodhisattva vow given that others occasionally might count on me for help.

Where was Walt Whitman’s phone?
  What am I aspiring for?
    Why did I phonelessly hunt golf balls
      When I was needed at home?
Abandon old ways, Bill

Where’s the open-heart in that? 
  What’s the openness called for in our vows?
    Why do I resist another imagined tether
      When I have caller ID, just
Learn which buttons to push

Bill Fell 9/3, 12/20

Aileen always used to say; “Bill, you are Boogie’s human.”  I had to agree.  Boogie passed away on my 70th birthday which is interesting – a serious hit of sickness, old age and death.  We are guessing she was about 15 as we had her for a dozen years since the Vet guessed she was three.  It is helpful to have a set of poetry-inclined friends and community of like-minded, like-hearted friends so that I’m not writing these things for just myself.  

“Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.”  Ani Pema in Awakening Loving Kindness p. 48

Hours alone in the den sitting sphinx-like
Then, bride-assisted
Another last leap to my supine lap
You know it’s OK to walk all over me

Your faded forever pink collar, so loose
Diva | Boogie (530) 753-2846
Worn away jet-black thinning hair 
From a very visible gray skin

Another quality-time petting, 
No purr, we stare
Greenish-gold eye to my bluish-grays
A familiar evening nose-to-nose

My stroke down your bony spine
Slowly . . .  approaching your behind
You reflexively stand at attention
Before settling back down

Bless you, dear friend, for joining US
Warming US 
Sharing that silent meow look, as if
“We’re in this together . . . , right?”

Bill Fell 6/26/20 and 7/3/20

Teaching a class on Zoom is different as we eventually learn from trying things out.  For example, you can invoke a weird sense of “NOW” by trying to get everyone (unmuted) to chant in unison.  

Visiting daily a morning wall of sangha
	Boxes of images of thoughts; labels
		The occasional judgement, imputation

Subtle . . . enabling eye shifts allow for
	Honing in on me, or whomever;
		We’ve permissions to pin, or not to stare?

But then now, who’s looking at me?
	Is this, an OK-time to sneak a web search?
		Ahh yes, fresh multitasking possibilities 

Seemingly synchronous speech, volume set to “11”
Just don’t try group chanting or knee slapping
	A cacophonous stream of non-split-second now  

Dicing up the world
	In new low-energy exchanges;
		It’s all part of the program

Bill Fell 6/25/20 and 7/3/20

There is a Buddhist practice called “Aimless Wandering.”  But for the undisciplined practitioner, the discursive thought process is seldomly interrupted.  No problem; write a poem.

Shiny burnt-orange rivulets of resin,
Of ooze, they steal my eye
A sap sickle breaks off with a helping hand  
So what now? . . . Is it the same tree?

Where I grew up, these guys all
Dropped their layers of thin tan skin
Tons of long pink pointy leaves, messy, aromatic
Seasons of shed.  Here instead,

We’ve got rough thick canyons of dark bark
Parallel ridges of deep death, 
Bluffs shade gorges hugging their host
Having settled in for a long haul; and

Leaves, fair-er-hued, more bulbous than I recall
Soaking up this ambient heat, and no
I’m not smelling IT.   But aren’t those old aromas
Merely illusions of my past?

No roots sticking up, neither then nor now
Both eucalyptus situations barren of undergrowth
Little question who rules these clusters of earth . . .
But for how long?  For any of us?

Stop, stare, notice the discrete moments of me
Of all we non-native species.  And
For this afternoon, I still have a bike path to walk
Amongst the blessed patches of shade.
 


 

Bill Fell 3/25/20 and 4/11, 26/20 and 7/3/20

This poem in multiple parts began March 25, 2020 and part 7 was written on February 25, 2021. It’s been a long year.

1.

First TP run up to Woodland
  Sudden signs of a new time
    Symptoms appearing

2.

A shear burnt-orange linen tube stretched overhead
This “collar” then pulled back up; masks in-breath, out-breath
Reaffix glasses and ready, to mix minds and hearts; a
Mild itch upper cheek, below lower lip 

Fetching Ibuprophen for Marian at CVS,
Scarved to the hilt; my fellows similarly clad
Albeit in stylized masks of shapes and colors
Just like me, and not 

Forgetting to check the TP -- paper towels shelf,
Just another thread I choose to study from my perch
Mild itch at the nose bridge, cheeks; no fog
Just as it is 

What’s changed in this cashier’s life, I ask?  Besides
Plexy-glass separators, the “stay-back” stripes on the carpet
Grabbing the receipt, out the door to perfect Spring
. . .  but for the lack of rain and snow this Winter

Calm abiding and paths of non-rejecting; possible
Studies and practices during this lockdown
Blessed be the teachers, students and hosts, and
The servers of essential services 

Sincere appreciations amongst all the stresses
These bourgeois sufferings being my lot
A shifting scene of storylines, insubstantial, but
Only when I will allow this inspiration

3.

Washing hands?  Sure, and I’ll have my own towel
    Thanks for the nudge
Wearing a mask?  Sure, but I’m a slow adopter
    I dress for the middle  
Staying put?  Sure, another habit to suspend
    I don’t lack for ways to connect  

4.

So enters the clown-in-chief
    Where will he take us today?
        We’re living in a meme-fest

5.

Getting up to leave 
Bending down to drop a kiss
Atop a dear mom’s head.
Caught in my own drama
I let distancing lapse, unilaterally
Redefining our germ circle

Driving off . . . .  OUCH
Second thoughts, best thoughts?

6.

—–Forwarded Message—–

On Feb 14, 2021, at 6:17 PM, Bill Fell <bill….@*****> wrote:

Hi Alex,
Any update on your dad?  Also, I’m in contact with Darleen T….. and will let her know the status in case Harvey asks.  The three of us all worked at PERS together in the 70’s.
Bill

—– Forwarded Message —–

On Feb 14, 2021, at 6:20 PM, Alexander <****@…..> wrote:

Bill,

I do have sad news to report. As of 5:30 PST today Harvey passed away due to COVID complications. 

-Alex

—– Forwarded Message —–

 On Feb 14, 2021, at 8:59 PM, Bill Fell <bill….@****> wrote:

Wow.  Alex, I am so sorry to hear of this.  

Your dad was a good man.  He hired me into State service 46 years ago this week, and he was my first supervisor.  He taught me a lot during the five years we worked together at the retirement system.  Harvey was the opposite of the sycophant.  He pissed off our Division Chief and other management by taking the side of the retirement applicant in his interpretation of the Public Employees Retirement Law.  And Harvey new the benefits portion of the PERL possibly better than anyone in the department.  Despite his knowledge and his commitment to the members, he was not rewarded by his superiors who held the reins for promotions.  We had many conversations over the years about his attitude (sarcasm?) and his unwillingness to leave it alone.  I respected him for that as did most of his peers.  He was a good manager and a great boss.

Aside from office politics, our political leanings were identical which was critical to keeping in contact over the years.  I will miss our lunches.  Also, we always talked about our respective household situations, and I think my advice was always heard and uniformly ignored, which is probably for the best.  His connection with you was no doubt the best aspect of his life, Eleanor and Alex.  I’m sorry the two of you will never get to England together, as given his obvious mobility issues, I suspected that would have been his last visit to his beloved Great Britain.

Let me know if you have any needs.  And thank you Alex for being a good kid to my dear friend.  

Bill       

7.
Vaccinations

A snake of sedans slithers
  Through pilons, and lime and green vests
    Spirited volunteers, compliant citizens
      Smiles and thank you’s all around 

We of the herd, heard the call
  Here we are getting in line
    Spouses CAN get shot in a single lap
      Blessed be the rule breakers

Bill Fell 3/8 – 9/20

When asked to represent the Buddhist “faith” in front of the Unitarian Church’s two Sunday morning gatherings, one learns how difficult it is to explain the Mahayana view of “wisdom” in a VERY short time.  So, start with the “two truths,” and end with our opening liturgy four-liner and pray that I can somehow link these two teachings.  But why do I stress over it all?

Explain “wisdom” in ten minutes
  OK, set some goals, imagine outcomes; speak
    Do the best you can
      It will all be over soon, and then . . . 

Brevity being the soul of wit ,* I’m finding
  The shorter the talk
    The longer the prep
      Everything’s left unspoken

Awakened at 3AM
  Got it! the perfect second sentence
    Capture it this instant, or just
      Stay; risk letting it go

While teaching on emptiness, and 
  Obsessing on ordering a few bullets; ah
      The irony and vanity of the aspiring bodhisattva
          Wisdom is seeing the movie, the pause 

Walkers, canes, name-tagged regulars
  Filling the lobby, the sanctuary
    Not exactly like first day of kindergarten
      Confusion any of us?  
        “May it dawn as wisdom” *

*Four Dharmas of Gampopa are:

Grant your blessings so that my mind may be one with the dharma.
Grant your blessings so that dharma may progress along the path.
Grant your blessings so that the path may clarify confusion.
Grant your blessings so that confusion may dawn as wisdom.

Bill Fell 1/17 – 18/20

So what happens to a controversial conversation (read: sensitive, heated debate) when one’s teacher, respected by many, enters the fray?  Turns out, probably not much changes, as this merely adds one more story line that either reinforces our own view, or somehow less likely, opens up the discussion by offering an alternative storyline.

For Ani Pema Chodron, the Sakyong, the
Shambhala Int. Board, the Acharyas, and
Yongey Mingyur Rinpoche

Called out during walking
  Quietly vacating the procession
    Impermanence

A herald has news
  Best read soon, aloud; all’s
    Called out after final bows

Seeking skillful means from the lineage holder
  An old Buddhist nun retires her title, finally
    Impermanence, with less the viscosity of granite

She’s got cred on my street
  Best to listen, aloud; absorb
    She’s calling out sangha for change

Breakfast crowd turns myriad triads
  Most, not all on each’s Sakyong saga
    Fluid discourse around a tablecloth

After dishes, we each have our minds
  And multiple storylines ensue
    With each exhale, the universe changes
    The old me dies; a new me is born