There is a reason for all things and therefore there is a reason for this although we cannot begin to fathom what that reason could possibly be, which may be reason enough, for reason has a twisted soul — now playful, now angry, now vengeful in irregular turns without warnings. The problem with seeking the reason for things is deeply hidden, and not as some imagine, that it is difficult; no, the problem is that the search for the reason has its own reason needing to be discovered and so recursively back to the Big Bang which still, to this day, has the ultimate undiscovered reason.
Perhaps tonight the slightly waning moon will bathe us in her presence. That presupposes the clouds, so very jealous of late, allow her to appear. They, and the unending winter, are the evil stepsisters, and they have neither justice nor compassion for the moon or for us. And so, to save their maleficent case, I shall again, tomorrow morning, take up the shovel and imagine my boots are crystal slippers.
Once upon a time isn’t such a timeless expression if you take time to consider that time doesn’t actually fly nor does it march on, and if it is truly on our side we wouldn’t need to buy it. I don’t need it to smell the roses and it doesn’t wait for me, although I am still human and just killing it, but perhaps neither of us have time for this.
In so many mythologies earth is a woman, a mother, and we arise from within her. The pure and simple logic of this assumption cannot be assailed, for she is the crux of all nature, and as it seems in life, it is all too often the males that lay siege and wage wars that damage her deeply, and the women whose tears gently wash her wounds
I am the life of a hundred million others, you are the life of a hundred million others, a hundred million others are my life, a hundred million others arise from my death. How may hundred million are the same? None of them will say.
A reflection on Case 29 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)
I think therefore I am. I think therefore you are. You think therefore I am. If either of us stops thinking, does the other cease to be? If I see you as Buddha you are Buddha. If you see me as Buddha I can be Buddha, but if I see myself as Buddha Buddha and I are mountains and rivers apart.
A reflection on Case 86 of the Shobogenzo (Dogen’s True Dharma Eye)
The perigee moon hangs heavily over the city clinging to the horizon as though it wishes to flee deep into the night turning away the attention in inevitably draws. We are pulled toward it by some deeply felt force that we know we dare not question, for we must honor the moon’s secrets as we hope she will honor ours.