There
is nothing that
is impure, nothing in need of
elimination, no place to go, not a thing to
obtain. Shed the duality that you are a seeker
in search of some attainment. Just be
as you are, without attachment
to anything, anyone,
any state, any
ideal.
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can now buy
Wei wu Wei Ching as part of a
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An unspectacular life
may be a garden rich in delight,
in queer paths, perfumed herbs, and
marble cloisters. “I live a life of no major
accomplishments,” said the oldest man
alive. High living is ephemeral, quick
to change; the light soon dims
among tower peaks.
those who are like the spring breeze
Association with city people
is not as good as friendship with elderly
peasants. Calling on upper-class mansions is not
as good as getting to know peasant homes. Listening
to the talk of the streets and alleys is not as good as hearing
the songs of the woodcutters and shepherds. Talking
about the moral failures and professional blunders
of people today is not as good as retelling
the fine words and noble deeds
of people of old.
As for sitting in meditation,
that is something which must include
fits of ecstatic blissful laughter, brayings
that will make you slump to the ground clutching
your belly, and even after that passes and you
struggle to your feet, will make you fall
anew in further contortions of
sidesplitting mirth.
now that I have you I’ll never forget what I owe you
I believe in steep drop-offs, the thunderstorm across the lake
in 1949, cold winds, empty swimming pools,
the overgrown path to the creek, raw garlic,
used tires, taverns, saloons, bars, gallons of red wine,
abandoned farmhouses, stunted lilac groves,
gravel roads that end, brush piles, thickets, girls
who haven’t quite gone totally wild, river eddies,
leaky wooden boats, the smell of used engine oil,
turbulent rivers, lakes without cottages lost in the woods,
the primrose growing out of a cow skull, the thousands
of birds I’ve talked to all of my life, the dogs
that talked back, the Chihuahuan ravens that follow
me on long walks. The rattler escaping the cold hose,
the fluttering unknown gods that I nearly see
from the left corner of my blind eye, struggling
to stay alive in a world that grinds them underfoot.
he met the world in darkness and in light
