A troubled world. A troubled mind. A Christian upbringing. An atheist turn in adolescence, solidified in adulthood. Still, I had reflexes of reverence and seeking too profound to ignore. In the Tao I found the closest approximation I know to my sense of the creative power in the universe.  A creator one can’t speak of, characterize, argue over or with; a creator who is also the destroyer we see active all around us; creativity and destruction the false language of polarity that the Tao is beyond.  I wanted a greater sense of nearness and likeness to this Tao.

I don’t expect and I don’t think I believe in Buddhist enlightenment.  I don’t want it in any case: my poetry needs tension, antithesis, longing, attachment.  The stillness I seek will not replace or overturn these needs.  The world is not an illusion, though my world is, and it will die with me.  I meditate to understand what I have just said.