patience in the heart of chaos

recognizing yourself

 

A sage is subtle,

intuitive, penetrating, profound. 

His depths are mysterious and

unfathomable. 

 

The best one can do is

describe his appearance: the sage

is alert as a person crossing a winter stream; as

circumspect as a person with neighbors on all four sides; 

as respectful as a thoughtful guest; as yielding as

melting ice; as simple as uncarved wood; 

as open as a valley; as chaotic

as a muddy torrent. 

 

Why “chaotic

as a muddy torrent”? 

Because clarity is learned by

being patient  in the

heart of chaos. 

 

Tolerating

disarray, remaining at rest, 

gradually one learns to allow muddy water to

settle and proper responses to reveal themselves. 

Those who aspire to tao don’t long for fulfillment. 

They selflessly allow tao to use and deplete

them; they calmly allow tao to renew

and complete them. 

 

The Tao te Ching of Lao Tzu,

Chapter 15

 

 

These days, Obama spends

a lot of time talking with younger people.

With them, he is an elder refuting the notion that things

have never been worse. “I say, ‘No, you know what? Civil War—really bad.

Jim Crow—tough. You know, our parents, our grandparents, our great-grandparents

went through stuff that was profoundly tougher than what we’re going through,’ ”

the former President said. “And I say that not to pull rank on them but,

rather, to pull them out of any kind of hopelessness

about the situation.”

 

The New Yorker

 

the world is open sky and also dustbin

be free from concerns

 

This world

is an open sky and also a dustbin,

giving life to some and death to others;

the outcomes are not controlled

by this world. 

 

Press

your finger into the world

and put it to your nose.  You may smell

sweetness, or you may smell dung. 

Discernment is possible in

these matters.

 

True hearts

stay awake if love is possible. The

others have no need for beauty, nor hope of

it.  If you are holding gold in your hand,

don’t imagine ways to turn it

into mud.

 

Bahauddin, father of Rumi

the drowned book

 

☯️

 

The Old Fool wears

second-hand clothes and fills his belly

with tasteless food, mends holes to make a

cover against the cold, and thus the myriad affairs

of  life, according to what comes, are done. Scolded, the

Old Fool merely says, “Fine.” Struck, the Old Fool falls

down to  sleep. “Spit on my face, I just let it dry;

I save strength and energy and give you no

affliction.” Paramita is his style; he

gains the jewel within.

 

Platform Sutra of the Sixth Patriarch

 

🪷

 

Forget the body.

Let go of sensations

and obsessions and objects.

Do non-doing to the point that thoughts

cease to arise. Releasing mental constructs and

emotional entanglements, you’ll begin

to flow as a sage. Then let go

of that notion on top

of everything

else.

 

Wei wu Wei Ching, Chapter 15

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