Posts Tagged → emptiness

butter pill that removes all ills

a brief biography of hakuin ekaku

 

One part of

“the real aspect of things,”

one part each of “the self and all things”

and “the realization that these are false,” three parts

of “the immediate realization of nirvana”, two parts of

“without desires,” two or three parts of “the non-duality of

activity and quietude,” one and a half parts of sponge-gourd skin

and one part of “the discarding of all delusion”. Steep these

ingredients in the juice of patience for one night, dry in

the shade and then mash. Season with a dash of

prajna-paramita, then shape everything

into a ball the size of a duck’s egg

and set it securely on

your head.

 

Hakuin Ekaku

more hakuin

 

beginner’s mind, beginner’s heart


 

To achieve

what the zen buddhists

call “beginner’s mind,” you dispense

with all preconceptions and enter

each situation as if seeing it

for the first time.

 

“In the

beginner’s mind there

are many possibilities,” wrote

Shunryu Suzuki in his book Zen Mind,

Beginner’s Mind, “but in the

expert’s there are few.”

 

As much

as I love beginner’s

mind, though, I advocate an

additional discipline: cultivating a

beginner’s heart. That means approaching

every encounter imbued with a freshly

invoked wave of love that is as pure

as if you’re feeling it for

the first time.

 

Rob Brezsny

 

quietude whatever you are doing

courage, virtue, emptiness

 

Return the mind

to quietude whatever you are doing,

not imagining what is yet to come and not thinking

about what has already passed. After a long time at this, spirit and

energy merge, feelings and objects are forgotten; spirit solidifies,

energy congeals, and there is just one breath in the belly,

revolving without going out or in.

This is called womb

breathing.

 

The Cultivator of Realization

love comes with a knife

this love is beyond

 

Love comes with a knife, not some shy question,

and not with fears for its reputation.

I say these things disinterestedly.

Accept them in kind.

Love is a madman,

 

working his wild schemes,

tearing off his clothes, running through the mountains,

drinking poison, and now quietly choosing annihilation.

 

A tiny spider tries to wrap an enormous wasp.

Think of the spiderweb

woven across the cave where Muhammad slept.

There are love stories,

and there is obliteration into love.

 

You have been walking the ocean’s edge,

holding up your robes to keep them dry.

 

You must dive naked under and deeper under,

a thousand times deeper. Love flows down.

The ground submits to the sky and suffers what comes.

Tell me, is the earth worse for giving in like that?

 

Do not put blankets over the drum.

Open completely.

Let your spirit listen

to the green dome’s passionate murmur.

 

Let the cords of your robe be untied.

Shiver in this new love beyond all above and below.

The sun rises, but which way does the night go?

I have no more words.

 

Let the soul speak with the silent articulation of a face.

 

…
 

Someone who does not run

toward the allure of love walks

a road where nothing lives.

 

But this dove here senses

the love hawk floating above,

and waits, and will not be driven

or scared to safety.

 

Jalal al-Din Rumi

the book of love