on Disappointment

We must allow ourselves to be disappointed, which means the surrendering of me-ness, my achievement. We would like to watch ourselves attain enlightenment, watch our disciples celebrating, worshipping, throwing flowers at us, with miracles and earthquakes occurring and gods and angels singing and so forth. This never happens. The attainment of enlightenment from ego's point of view is extreme death, the death of self, the death of me and mine, the death of the watcher. It is the ultimate and final disappointment. Treading the spiritual path is painful. It is a constant unmasking, peeling off of layer after layer of masks. It involves insult after insult.

Such a series of disappointments inspires us to give up ambition. We fall down and down and down, until we touch the ground, until we relate with the basic sanity of earth. We become the lowest of the low, the smallest of the small, a grain of sand, perfectly simple, no expectations. When we are grounded, there is no room for dreaming or frivolous impulse, so our practice at last becomes workable. We begin to learn how to make a proper cup of tea, how to walk straight without tripping. Our whole approach to life becomes more simple and direct, and any teachings we might hear or books we might read become workable. They become confirmations, encouragements to work as a grain of sand, as we are, without expectations, without dreams.

We have heard so many promises, have listened to so many alluring descriptions of exotic places of all kinds, have seen so many dreams, but from the point of view of a grain of sand, we could not care less. We are just a speck of dust in the midst of the universe. At the same time our situation is very spacious, very beautiful and workable. In fact, it is very inviting, inspiring. If you are a grain of sand, the rest of the universe, all the space, all the room is yours, because you obstruct nothing, overcrowd nothing, possess nothing. There is tremendous openness. You are the emperor of the universe because you are a grain of sand. The world is very simple and at the same time very dignified and open, because your inspiration is based upon disappointment, which is without the ambition of the ego.

From The Myth of Freedom and The Way of Meditation, by Chogyam Trungpa

Old Ideas

It’s late

I fell asleep 

to ships capsizing

in the North Sea

I was told

to observe thoughts

passing like leaves

in the wind

to be one with others

in a room full of strangers

I thought I recovered

from the core wound

but I still run my finger

through the platelets

preorder my book!

I am thrilled to share that my book, diluvium // a bluejay, is now available for preorder with free shipping!

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Here are some words on the book from three amazing poets:

In this commanding collection, Isabel Bezerra Balée maps the territories of ecological catastrophe and immense personal loss. Each line is a spiraling eye, a witness of both fury and grief, the resounding notes of flood-song. With precision and reverence, Balée forges language from the ruins, fusing wondrous images with the tender voice of contemplation. Here is a sacred geography, with flowers laid down for what has been lost and what remains. - Desiree Bailey


What's the difference between a vein and a river? Or between grieving and being pulled into the gulf? Does it matter when you're gasping for air, the weight of a disintegrating world pressing into your heart? Through a haze of blood, pollen, and brackish tears, Isabel Bezerra Balée moves us with her as she navigates the waters of memory to where myth meets the searing light of lived experience as a daughter in a screaming earth drowning in fire. Part flood narrative, part devastating account of maternal loss, all against capitalism, diluvium // a bluejay pierced through the meridians of my body, and I'm not sure that I ever want it to leave. - Tatiana Luboviski-Acosta


We enter Isabel Bezerra Balée's beautiful and unsparing diluvium // a bluejay over the "sill of scandalized language." With fierce concision, imagistic strength, and powerful grief work, diluvium // a bluejay both reflects and renovates Celan and Bachmann. The book is language as geology, flooding through New Orleans streets, vanished marshlands, and a quotidian world shattered by technology and capital. Geology is in turn written on the mother's body, the hours of her loss. In this extraordinary work, Balée brings the reader with her to the crucible, to language as a site of absence and abandon. - Lauren Levin

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I am exceedingly grateful to the folks at Dogpark Collective: to Kate Robinson-Beckwith & the design team for developing the look and feel that I’m so happy with, and to Eric Sneathen for helping me to excavate old work & expand the scope of this manuscript that came together, ever so slowly, over a period of about 4 years. It’s surreal to be letting go of this project. I can’t believe it.