Over the past four months I’ve been discovering and experimenting with Contact Improvisation (CI). I’m primarily interested not so much in the performance side of CI, but in its potential as a tool for exploring and better understanding what it means (and entails) to have an experience. After all, this is the kind of interest that drives me most of the time, no matter what I happen to be doing. In this regard, I’ve noticed two very interesting and related aspects that I’ve never encountered in other practices I’ve been involved with.   The first aspect is the ability to understand, relate ..read more

I’m a tune in A minor, Dark blue, foggy, without words, But a vibrant tone that leaves No doubts: let me cry, let me  Say that I’m weak and broken —and that is not the problem. The problem was the heavy Smile, the radiant mask, happy Voice, the rest of the farce. So much beauty in darkness, God can’t see nor understand It—but you? Light makes blind The soul to its own shadows. Do you hear them? They sing still: A simple tune, A minor ..read more

The body: still warm and seemingly alive. Like the morning bed remembering still Dreams and fancies of the past night. The body: still warm, but alive no more, As the breath just left it forever behind. The dawn with her lucent sword has The stem of the last dream cut off. There is no turning back to that body Or dream, despite the grief and pain For their ending, and soon vanishing away. Death comes for a reason of justice: There is more within a soul than  What a body can possibly dream of. This More is mostly nameless and unknown, Yet it’s there, and with gentle voiceless Urgency deman ..read more

I’ve heard from a student that it would be interesting to discuss how Buddhist teachings can shed light on romantic love. This is a tricky subject, not least because it is far too easy to sound dogmatic when talking about such phenomena, which are never experienced in exactly the same way by different people. I take this as an opportunity to reflect on my own experience of romantic love, and to use Buddhist insights as tools to illuminate the more intuitive experience I have had of it so far.   I’ve now spent almost half my life in a single, monogamous relationship. In that sense, I don’t ..read more

My story ‘s simple. I was waiting, My eyes wide open, Searching for little More than… 'I don’t know'.  But only when closed They could see you. Then, light was music, Touch was talking words Of silence immense, Unknown to all but Us. I’m you. You’re me. This, fear cannot Understand—nor stop ..read more

I—don’t know. But you: Will you dare to dance Les Folies d’Espagne? I—can endure the pace Of waiting and waning Slowly into silences, and Raising, immense, beyond Again, and again—but you? I—am. Waiting. Waning. Why I do not know. I was Asking you: are you there? Will you dare to take my Hand and gaze and the rest? Can we let ourselves behind, Like cloths on the floor, and Move on without steps? I—am here. Shall we? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHyNEO-Awm8 ..read more

We know and experience reality by getting in touch with it. This figurative way of speech is taken quite literally in the discourses of the Buddha. Phassa (literally “touch”) is used to provide a model for how experience originates. In the standard account, phassa is the result of three ingredients: an object, a sensory basis, and a kind of consciousness capable of recognising both. For instance, when I see a tree, my experience (phassa) is the coming together of the tree, my functioning visual apparatus, and the visual consciousness associated with it. But the term phassa emphasises ..read more

I became interested in contemplative practices six years ago. For some reason, it didn’t remain a side hobby, but quickly became the centre of my whole life. I can’t think of any significant event, action, production or decision in recent years that hasn’t been influenced and shaped in some way by my practice. Yet I have been rather reluctant to talk about it directly. I quickly realised how easily the act of putting things into a story distorts them, creates post-hoc justifications, skews the meaning of the actual events, or simply boils down to pointless rumination. I’ve been keeping a diary ..read more

Blindfolded by our little stories We roam prisoners of petty desires. Afraid of falling, we forgot how to  Stand on earth and roll, and slide. But if a magic singer could make us Move close enough to remember  Our natural bond, then the bubble Would be pierced, experience freed. With many limbs and feet and arms With many hands and heads and eyes Reaching towards everywhere embracing Everything touching and feeling at once. We are not arrows flying to a target. We are waves of light engulfing cliffs And beaches and draining sands  To the depths of unforeseen oceans of beauty. ht ..read more

Did you hear? The future is sold out. I wanted to give you my smartest words. But it will take ages for them to Paint even a rough portrait of me. I might offer you verses or songs. But you’ll need decades nonetheless  To distil from their tunes my blurry  Shade. I could tell you the bare truth. But I fear you’ll forget that it remains Nothing but a lie taken too seriously.  Perhaps, I should invite you to dance. But each atom of space between us Is a universe without stars to cross. Behold, I know. Take my weight. Immediately you’ll be in contact With my essence bare naked Inef ..read more