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Art & Poetry 


 The hardest and most courageous of acts isn’t to be unique, but to remain utterly common in the most humdrum places of reality, peacefully, without the need to be special. Such a human, like the unnamed star in the night-sky, continues to leave the trail of joy and happiness behind in the hearts of all those who look. 


My artwork, on Japanese Kozo Paper.

    “Be a heaven-sent rain when there’s drought, be the person who brings warmth and care in the dead of winter” — Master Sheng Yen.


Artwork done on Japanese Kozo paper, Sumi-e paint brush. With the calligraphy corresponding to the Chinese version of the quote above.


  Heart Sutra is one of the most important sutras of Buddhism. It contains the ultimate pronouncement on the nature of interdependence. Because things are interdependent, nothing is lost, and nothing is gained. Looking deeply into a flower with such insight, we can see the plant, gardener, soil, sun and the whole cosmos~ 

Read more here.

Heart Sutra calligraphy in Chinese with my name seal. Inspired by two profound zen masters, Thich Nhat Hanh and Sheng Yen~ 

Inspired by the calligraphy of Zen Master, Thích Nhất Hạnh. 

Read slowly with a cup of tea~


Dwelling in the common places of existence,
I weave my life with the warp and weft of happiness and sadness~

“So much talk about zen, what miracle can you perform?” you ask.

“None. But when I sweep the fallen leaves,

sometimes I see the magnolia flowers on the side, bloom” I reply~~

~ koi pond

gulping a mouthful of cosmos,

koi returned to the pond,

no one around but a mountain moon,

— an eternal witness to a thousand kisses ~



fragrance of my tea leaves didn’t fade yet,

radiance of the sun above didn’t wane yet,

when the whole existence opens upto me —

what more does this world owe me? ~~


Sleeping sky 

as the boats carried loads of sunshine home,

as the birds carried crumbs of clouds to their nest,

a cup of tea and me sit in solitude:

to praise the glory of heavens with lyricless silence ~

i sing and sing but with a soft voice,

to not let the sleeping sky awaken ~~

Groundless Ground

afraid of falling,

the monkey mind

grabs hold of one object

after the other

but what are you afraid of?

oh freely falling one!

when there’s no ground beneath;

that you’ll ever crash into!

cup of water

looking deeply

into my two hands


a cup of water tenderly

i see

two bits of cosmos


a tiny piece of lake’s cake

reverence fills

my entire being~



All that which lies

beyond the land of

symbols and dualities

is pure and untainted

a rotten apple,

just as the way it is,

rots in the purest possible manner

and a flower,

just as the way it is,

blossoms in the purest possible manner ~~



when the sunshine fades away

in the evening,

and as the earth cools down:

don’t forget to

feed your vibrant smile

to those sunflowers

which slept during the day ~~


rolling up the blinds,

i welcome the night knocking on the window slides,

i reach out to make a snowball out of the white

little did I know that it was the moon’s mighty light ~~

Soulful solitude


mosquito calmly sitting on my blanket ~

the night sky above,

vast cosmos around —

solitary companions to my soulful solitude

Ways of cosmos

what are the ways of the cosmos — you ask.

this moon, vast, infinite and endless

and yet I can house it in my tiny insignificant

hands, eyes and heart —

this is the way of cosmos ~

the large is contained in the small;
and the eternity, in daily life ~~




And the mightiness, leave onto others. Merging with ordinary, we remain tiny. Tiny like the distant star which alone twinkles: quenching the thirst of lovers and poets staring at the night sky ~ 




bleak peak — no one in sight

under the snow, everything looks right ~

where is hate and where is fight?

when one is sheltered in loves’ delight!


i mayn’t be rich, but don’t say that i can’t offer you anything. 

here, take this breeze that stops by my door: the breeze that can dry up ocean of tears we shed since aeons ~ 

here, take with you the moon which rests in my windowsill: the moon that neither waxes nor wanes ~~


with a burning log in hand

and a heap of wooden sticks

i went around

looking for a better fire

place after place

had i known the nature of fire

i could have cooked my rice much sooner ~~


life, death, life, death, life 
death, life, death, life, death, life, death 
life, life, life, life, life~ 


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