Past days have flowed all one into the other, silent with the seamless closeness of family at holiday time. Together could also be to-gather. And now we’re all moving on.
I’ve missed writing here. The words were elsewhere.
I read in instructions for Chinese calligraphy that lines begin in the interior and end in the interior. I know that by feeling, the rightness of it, the beauty. I will try to practice it.
I think of the Zen story in which a disciple asks Master Joshu, « If everything returns to the one, where does the one return to? »