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THREE CALLS 鐵笛倒吹 三十九
If your name is called how do you answer? If it is called again and then again, will your answer always be exactly the same, or will you grow angry and deny even yourself? Surely your teacher knows who you are but knowing yourself, that is the highest mountain you will be asked to climb.…
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HEART OF NIGHT
The morphology of dreams is partially reliant on the whims of a single god, and Morpheus is, to say the least, a truly fickle bastard who dangles before us joy and nightmare each always just out of reach, but never out of sight or hearing. So we are left to grasp like marionettes operated by…
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QUANTUM DREAMS
Tonight the Higgs boson stayed virtual and utterly massless and didn’t decay, so only the cookies acted on our teeth and that decay will fall within the Schwarzchild radius of the sink with all six flavors of quark and all their colors.
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WHERE?
Is it the trip or the arriving that most matters, or is it simply what you expect once you are there, if there is where you expected, for expectations are too often misplaced and assumptions reflect desire not truth. In the end it hardly matters, for you can never be anywhere but where you…
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NANO
If there is but a single moment this one is not the one, and so we shall each of us continue to wait and wonder if the next one is the one, or even the one after that, or one next week. But the real question is, if there is such a moment, whether we’ll…
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RAISON
There is a reason – there must be a reason for everything, that is just how things are supposed to be, how we decree them. And when things are events, we are at liberty to tell them to comply with our direction. If they fail, then we consign them to miracles or the work…
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I DON’T MIND
Sanity is a state of mind, he said, which I visit only from time to time. It’s a dark and scary place where a majority live and that is reason enough to dwell among the insane.
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INTENTION
Today my intentions fell away through the hourglass the best, heaviest, first, followed in course by the lesser, until I could mark my day by the void left in their wake. But tomorrow I shall turn the glass over yet again.
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BURDEN OF WINTER
On this one a taste clinging gingerly, on this one clumps, here a variegated blanket. Each tree bears the burden of winter in its own way.
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In the middle of my morning zazen I am no longer here. I have fallen deeply into my mat. The ending bell rings.
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an old writer and his words 