Wake up to another cold, gray day, after a sometimes restless sleep.
Some trees are bare, others not, like the holly full and a deep, waxy green outside my window. Assorted birds big and small come and go, pecking in the grass.
I yawn. Everything is right here and everywhere.
The Way of Everyday Life, (Shobogenzo Genjokoan), Dogen tells this story:
Priest Baoche of Magu Mountain was fanning himself. A monk approached and asked,
Sir, the nature of wind is permanent, and there is no place it does not reach. Why then must you still fan yourself?
Although you understand that the nature of wind is permanent, the master replied,
you do not understand the meaning of it reaching everywhere.
What is the meaning of its reaching everywhere? asked the monk.
The master just fanned himself. The monk bowed with deep respect.