one line of wild geese -
stamps the moon
on the mountain’s edge
Buson (via yama-bato)
The Greenhornes featuring Holly Golightly, “There Is An End”
In Basho’s House
In Basho’s house
there are no walls,
no roof, floors
or pathway -
nothing to show
where it is,
yet you can enter
from any direction
through a door
that’s always open.
You hear voices
though no one
is near you -
you’ll listen without
knowing you do.
Time and time
you get up to greet
a stranger coming
towards you.
No one ever appears.
Hours and seasons
lose their names -
as do passing clouds.
Rising moon and setting sun
no longer cast shadows.
Sounds drift in
like effortless breathing -
frogsplash, birdsong,
echoes of your
own footsteps.
It all ceases
to exist in Basho’s house -
the place you’ve entered
without knowing
you’ve taken a step.
Sit down. Breathe
in, breathe out.
Close your tired eyes.
Basho is sitting beside you -
a guest in his own house.
from Whiskey River via: 3 quarks daily
“While wandering a deserted beach at dawn, stagnant in my work, I saw a man in the distance bending and throwing as he walked the endless stretch toward me. As he came near, I could see that he was throwing starfish, abandoned on the sand by the tide, back into the sea. When he was close enough I asked him why he was working so hard at this strange task. He said that the sun would dry the starfish and they would die. I said to him that I thought he was foolish. there were thousands of starfish on miles and miles of beach. One man alone could never make a difference. He smiled as he picked up the next starfish. Hurling it far into the sea he said, “It makes a difference for this one.” I abandoned my writing and spent the morning throwing starfish.”
— Loren Eiseley (September 3, 1907 – July 9, 1977) was an American anthropologist, educator, philosopher, and natural science writer, who taught and published books from the 1950s through the 1970s. During this period he received more than 36 honorary degrees and was a fellow of many distinguished professional societies. At his death, he was Benjamin Franklin Professor of Anthropology and History of Science at the University of Pennsylvania.
BAUR, MAX (1898 - 1988). Ohne Titel. (Rankende Blüten). (from yama-bato)
a bell is placed across the river for visitors to ring,
their graciousness is an invitation
“There is a fascination about the distant tones of the bell sounding across the river.
Who is there, with what news?
Is it a dear friend long unseen,
or a stranger whose coming will change the course of our lives?”
~ Harlan Hubbard
(This post is dedicated to paynehollow and is from The Beauty We Love)
A Tibetan in-exile performs a religious ritual at the Boudhanath Stupa in Kathmandu Photograph: Prakash Mathema/AFP/Getty Images from The Guardian
If, as a result of one’s commitment to the principles of the Bodhisattva ideal, one sees that the purpose of one’s life is to be of benefit to others, and from the depths of one’s heart there is a real sense of dedication of one’s entire life for the benefit of other sentient beings, and that kind of strong courage and principle – for that kind of person, then time doesn’t seem to matter much. Whether or not that person becomes enlightened, as far as he or she is concerned, it doesn’t make any difference, because the purpose of existence is to be of benefit to others, and if the person is able to be of service to others, then that person is really able to fulfill his or her true purpose. Such is the kind of courage and determination to altruistic principles that bodhisattvas should adopt.
The Dalai Lama in a talk at UCLA in 1997 in reference to a passage in Nagarjuna’s Precious Garland that deals with feeling discouraged over the length of time required to become “enlightened.” Thank you, The Endless Further.
The contemplative discipline of meditation, what I will call in this book contemplative practice, doesn’t acquire anything. In that sense, and an important sense, it is not a technique but a surrendering of deeply imbedded resistances that allows the sacred within gradually to reveal itself as a simple, fundamental fact. Out of this letting go there emerges what St. Paul called our “hidden self”: “may he give you the power through his Spirit for your hidden self to grow strong” (Eph 3:16). Again, contemplative practice does not produce this “hidden self” but facilitates the falling away of all that obscures it.
Martin Laird, “Into the Silent Land: A Guide to the Christian Practice of Contemplation,” from Anamchara
