release

Heart Sutra

Gill Washington Buddhist Writings, Spirituality, Suffering, Wisdom , , , 0 Comment

Great Wisdom Beyond Wisdom Heart Sutra

Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva, when practicing deeply the Prajna Paramita, perceived that all five skandhas in their own being are empty, and was saved from all suffering.

O Shariputra, form does not differ from emptiness, emptiness does not differ from form; that which is form is emptiness, that which is emptiness form. The same is true of feelings, perceptions, formations, consciousness.

O Shariputra, all dharmas are marked with emptiness: they do not appear nor disappear, are not tainted nor pure, do not increase nor decrease. Therefore, in emptiness, no form, no feelings, no, perceptions, no formations, no consciousness; no eyes, no ears, no nose, no tongue, no body, no mind, no color, no sound, no smell, no taste, no touch, no object of mind; no realm of eyes, until no realm of mind-consciousness; no ignorance, and also no extinction of it, until no old age and death, and also no extinction of it; no suffering, no origination, no stopping, no path, no cognition, also no attainment.

With nothing to attain, a Bodhisattva depends on Prajna Paramita and the mind is no hindrance. Without any hindrance, no fears exist. Far apart from every perverted view one dwells in nirvana.

In the three worlds all Buddhas depend on Prajna Paramita and attain unsurpassed complete perfect enlightenment.

Therefore, know the Prajna Paramita is the great transcendent mantra, is the great bright mantra, is the utmost mantra, is the supreme mantra, which is able to release all suffering and is true not false. So, proclaim the Prajna Paramita mantra, proclaim the mantra that says,

“Gate, gate, paragate, parasamgate! Bodhi! Svaha!”

All Buddhas, ten directions, three times
All beings, Bodhisattvas, Mahasattvas
Wisdom beyond wisdom, Maha Prajna Paramita

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For Anna Akhmatova

Gill Washington Anna Akhmatova, Elaine Maria Upton, Poems , , 0 Comment

February 1986, on the twentieth anniversary of her death

You, who sang so many poets
and the death of cities and the young century,
your songs have kept us awake when
we should have died.

And may i now living, listen in your release
of the mute screams of a hundred mothers,
waiting before the prison wall,
their lips gone ‘blue with cold.’

What is it to endure just one winter,
the childhood willow choked in ice,
the Neva rolling on alone,
or night that teases you, but never comes?

What, to endure your own beauty?
The clap of tall black boots, not dancing naked
feet on the stairs? Your heart beating for a word?
Oh, but the long , dark cloud

–it passes. This day is reborn in your arms!
And sometime, I’ll wear your profile,
like a reticent god, where trembling
you translate a different star!

~ elaine maria upton
1986 (Boston, Massachusetts)-1999 (Hyde Park, New York)