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.
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.
No happiness is
greater than attaining the Way.
A day learning the Way is a day of happiness;
every day learning the Way is everyday happiness;
a lifetime learning the Way is lifetime happiness.
Learning the Way is basically a method of
peace and happiness; that is why
sages study it tirelessly.
The ancient Masters slept
without dreams and woke up without worries.
Their breath came from deep inside them. They didn’t cling
to life, weren’t anxious about death. They emerged without desire
and reentered without resistance. They came easily; they went easily.
They didn’t ask where they were from; they didn’t ask where
they were going. They took everything as it came,
gladly, and walked into death without fear.
They accepted life as a gift, and
they handed it back
gratefully.
You eat to satisfy your hunger
and drink to quench your thirst. You wear clothes
to keep warm and go home to be with your families. You cultivate
the tao to reach the place even the buddhas can’t describe.
And you practice zen to find the place even
the patriarchs can’t enter.
But if you rely on the
doors and walls of others and you listen
to their instruction and accept their drivel,
you’ll never stand on your own. I put it like
this: Good medicine tastes bitter.
True words sound harsh.
Red Pine’s “The Zen Works of Stonehouse”