I set out this morning
with my large dictionary
to find the perfect word
to describe the sky, the sun
just peering over the roof
of a distant house, the few
clouds aflame in a silent fire.
I knew there was a word
for what I saw in the dictionary,
for there is a word
for everything if you search
long and hard enough, but
after a while I gave up when
I realized I could no longer
recall what I had seen
that set me off on this search.
The first one felt right,
there was nothing deeper considered,
just that feeling that now,
I know, anyone might have provided
but then, it was something
in a world of nothing.
The second, really, was
certainly right, for life this time,
the wisdom of a single failure
enough to ensure success,
and when it came apart
thirty years later, it was
apparent it was never right,
just more than nothing.
This one is right, for it
does not require feeling so,
merely being in her presence,
a completeness I never knew,
which explains why this time
nothing can get in the way
of the ultimate everything.
The true self
is no-self,
and this self
is not self,
but illusion
and delusion,
where delusion
is enlightenment,
and nothing
is as it seems
for nothing is
and only seems
and so it is
with self,
so let go
of this self
and no-self
will appear,
though it was
always there.
When all
is said and done
and everything
that can
be written
has been,
when the questions
have all
been answered
or forgotten,
when you grow
tired of answers,
ask yourself this:
I will, or may
see something today
that may surprise me.
It may reveal itself
in aquiet moment,
it may be nothing more
than a fleeting thought
or an image, I am certain.
It won’t be brought by Magi
nor even magic, though
on reflection, it may
seem somehow magical.
I suspect
most will miss
its occurrence.
So I will sit
and stare into the wall,
into my heart,
into the universe,
trying to find
something which
is nothing, which
is the center,
which is everything.
It is a burden he does
not want to bear any longer,
one he would shed in a moment,
but there is no place to put it
and you cannot just leave it anywhere.
And so he continues to bear it
dragging it here, carrying it there,
always attached to it, and it to him.
He knows there are others
who bear far heavier burdens,
some with a smile, others begrudgingly.
He would gladly take up
their burdens, if he could only
be relieved of his, but he
cannot find anyone to take his,
and so he smiles and goes on,
for everyone wants something
and he has only nothing to offer
although that is the greatest gift,
for it is the gift of Buddha.
A reflection on Shūmon kattōshū Case 6 – Zhaozhou’s “Drop It”
Soon I will sit
and stare into the wall,
into my heart,,
into the universe,
and will find
everything
and nothing.
But the center
of nothing,
is everything.
an old writer and his words 