Reality bleeds

//Reality bleeds

Reality bleeds

I read today that Hemingway said writing is not difficult; you just have to sit down at the typewriter and bleed.
Like the Third Patriarch of Zen said of the « perfect » way: It, too, is not difficult; it just dislikes picking and choosing.
Looking around all day and into night, imperfection abounds, limitless: Sunlight fades, the Métro stalls, I forget what I wanted to say.
And right there in the heart of every imperfect moment, perfect reality bleeds.

By | 2015-10-02T14:30:35+01:00 mars 2nd, 2009|Textes|4 Comments

About the Author:

Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste. The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.


  1. Tomas 4 mars 2009 at 3 h 01 min - Reply

    Reality bleeds…YES! What a powerful statement! Just let the skin-shell open and allow life and blood to mix together! WOW! Better than coffee!!!

  2. Juan 3 mars 2009 at 23 h 30 min - Reply

    shifting shapes from one container to another,
    somebody watches,
    another colors it,
    a few see it running down,
    fulfilling every moment.
    a bird sings,
    as the sun set over the horizon,
    everybody running blind,
    reality bleeds.

  3. white cloud 3 mars 2009 at 23 h 07 min - Reply

    Coming home after a busy day.
    Discution between tree people about a work of art.
    I didn’t say anything – just listened
    They didn’t look/see at all
    categorical – categorical – categorical –
    seeing must be terrifying –
    I just sit behind my computer and bleed
    right here in the heart of this imperfect moment, this moment is just imperfect – as real as it gets

  4. HJ 3 mars 2009 at 9 h 13 min - Reply

    My life is the most perfect example of the perfect reality. Everything coming and going. I ask for the cafe and cake and they arrive. Drink and eat and they are gone. And yet they are still here. Just different. A non stopping movement. Life just flowing. My life.

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