A runny nose has caught up with me in this season of fading away. The sidewalks in Paris are paved with a golden dropping off. One by one, every leaf is a sudden fall. As Joshu said: "A clay buddha does not pass through water. A gold buddha does not pass through a furnace. A [...]
It's Friday night. They're still taking sides across the Atlantic. Which calls for more from Vimalakirti: "Therefore, Shariputra, if one would be a seeker of the dharma, one must not seek it in anything at all." Or, I might add, seek it everywhere.
Autumn now. Day remains broad, but under threat of darkness (everything is illuminated by the hang of it) there is constantly no way out: The universe is everywhere at this very sliver of a moment.
Beware of falling markets! Beware of rising markets! Better to have nothing at all than to have something good.
The garden wilder than ever today, Sunday morning wind seems to whip even the sun here and there. Is something ending or beginning? September is neither near nor far. What season is it? This one. And in his sutra, the layman Vimalakirti said: "Ah, Rahula, you should not speak of the benefits and blessings gained [...]
After this month away from writing here, I return with the essential: As Master Dogen said, "Why give up your own seat and wander about in the dusty realms of foreign countries?" If we don't practice here, where will we practice? If we don't practice now, when will we practice?