User:Storm Nordwind

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    Storm used to build a lot of stuff in Second Life, and has been part of Play as Being from the first day (April 1st, 2008), despite taking a three year sabbatical 2015-2018 and being here only sporadically since.
     
    Please note: Storm no longer uses the name "Storm", and instead uses the name "Sable", having come out as transgender in real life in the summer of 2023. Sable's pronouns are she/her.

    Sable is an elderly, sapphic, trans woman, who used to write novels and poetry, and who now does nothing of the kind. Please feel free to chat to her in Second Life!

     

    Sable01.jpg


    Old avatars

     

    Storm 2018.jpg

    scribewatch1.jpg

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

    Storm - red monk - chiaroscuro.jpg

     


     

    Yeshe-Khorlo-Lhakhang.jpgWords from a retreat

    For a few years, Storm engaged with Buddhist practices, though this is no longer the case. However, for much of April 2010, he attended a retreat at Yeshe Khorlo Nyingma Buddhist Center in Crestone, Colorado.

    Photographs on this page are from that retreat. Sharp-eyed readers will recognize the prayer wheels as being the model for the one in the Kuan Yin Terraces in Second Life.

    During the retreat Storm found time occasionally to tweet his impressions, mostly as short poems. Friends have requested that those poems, all 56 of them, be brought together in one place, especially for those who don't use twitter.

    So what follows are those impressions from just before to just after the retreat, undated but color-coded:

    • Black: haiku or senryu format
    • Blue: gogyohka format
    • Red: six words format
    • Green: plain text

     


    golden eagle flies
    high over Denver rooftops
    erne before the storm

    What mountain wind brought
    powerful Red Chenrezig
    to change my practice?

    Morning-smoke-offering.jpgremembering friends
    who are remembering me
    distant hearts dancing

    a sudden knowing
    "this is what I was born for"
    spring in the desert

    morning offering
    we huddle in the chill wind
    smoke rises for all

    Longchenpa's teachings
    compassionately explained
    I'm writing so much!

    with wisdom and wit
    a gentle man in yellow
    leads my wayward mind

    View-from-window-Crestone.jpgtwisted shattered trees
    dust devils and rabbitbrush
    yet still we live here

    sky grazes mountain
    somewhere a silk scarf flutters
    we sit as his feet

    where we are affects
    what we do and what we do
    affects where we are

    Breakfast crumbs. Birds fly.
    Snow upon my path will melt;
    they will stay as birds.

    wonderful teachings
    on Buddha Shakyamuni,
    Guru Rinpoche

    seek a good teacher
    perhaps they will accept you
    if you're fit to learn

    Prayer-Wheels.jpgdeer roaming outside
    only parched grass on the sand
    thoughts roaming inside

    turning a prayer wheel:
    I had no idea that
    it was such a buzz!

    birthday sacrifice
    what a day to be away
    sending her my love!!

    So black with starlight
    More silence than I can hear
    My chai has gone cold

    Crestone eaterie
    six hundred miles from the sea:
    "Café de la Mer"

    Sumatra coffee
    two eggs, home fries and spelt toast
    Crestone fine dining!


    Some places start good
    then they pall and irritate.
    Crestone's the reverse!

    it's Dakini Day
    countless crimson offerings
    wearing red for Tsok

    rising over trees: smoke, temple, mind

    One juniper tree:
    filled air with pungent fragrance;
    covered car with sap

    More empowerments!
    (Buy five and get three more free)
    Smack! Bad Buddhist Storm!

    54 degrees
    Springs comes, even to Crestone
    Blossoms are inside

    Only in Bhutan
    Vajrayana Buddhism
    the state religion

    what good karma brought me here?

    Burning-Offering.jpga nun is nodding
    her teacher's words fill the air
    a little girl sleeps

    Today I saw a dog outside the temple.
    Someone said it was happy and was lucky to be there.
    I felt lucky to see the dog.


    "taken by the wings of karma"

    measuring my days
    by a Weetabix packet
    clouds hide the old moon

    the shop door is closed
    they tell me it's Saturday
    looking for the moon

    mountain tree expanse
    nāga rising in the smoke
    huge - awful - peaceful

    drops of nectar fall
    from an avatar's pixels
    touching this mountain

    a great lama speaks
    and secret tulkus listen
    at new Vulture's Peak

    so tired I don't know
    my nadis from my bindus
    and my feet are cold

    cold stone temple floor
    cushion for a student's feet
    only I touch them

    When my eyes are closed
    I'm a sentient being
    Open - a buddha!

    So pure. So direct.
    Longchenpa's teachings strike home.
    No more words - Practice!

    Free day tomorrow
    One travels back. Two return.
    Home? Where the heart is.

    city craziness
    everything is transparent
    ha ha ha ha ho!

    one goddess dances
    in the land of fire and ice
    and we can but watch

    stupa-large.jpgI'm back in Crestone
    and I have Michele with me
    Luxury retreat!

    if you knew stupa
    like I know stupa - oh oh
    what a bad haiku

    auspicious event
    the buddhas rained down blessings
    and a lightning bolt

    a fresh fall of snow
    thaw brings a slippery climb
    feeling empowered?

    Tonight we went to fundraiser auction.
    I now have a Dharma wheel carved from restoration wood of Gangteng Gonpa, my teacher's seat in Bhutan

    A lama passing away means Rinpoche may return to Bhutan.
    Retreat may be cut short.
    Could be back in Denver late Monday pm

    It's very tempting
    being part of this sangha
    Should we retire here?

    We're leaving one home
    returning to another
    Where (or what) is home?

    drone amidst the trees
    the temple door is open
    lama reading texts

    this richly veined rock
    shining in the morning rain
    holds the tarpaulin

    where is the morning
    smoke of burning juniper?
    air conditioning

    petals fall on trash
    and a thousand messages
    fall on my deaf ears

    At the time
    I had thought
    it would go on forever
    though nothing does
    and that was the point

    I have become
    the clear sky
    while others capture clouds
    Can one be
    and still write a poem?
     

    -- Storm Nordwind April 2010

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    Read this slowly, spaciously, with so many smiles. Such enjoyable music, balances of modern times and timeless practices, good humor.
    Posted 00:11, 20 May 2018
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