grass and trees have buddha nature
Other than the birds,
Who watches over you?
Lordly peaks, your neighbors.
White head held pillowed on a stone.
Grey robe ragged, but not soiled
Chestnuts pile up on your path.
Monkeys circle where you sit.
If you ever set up another zendo,
I swear I’ll be the one who
sweeps the floors.
The Tao is as deep as can be.
Who is willing to pursue it closely?
If you don’t go into the tiger’s lair, how can you
catch its cub? If you don’t wash out the stone and sand,
how can you pick out the gold? Carefully seek the heart
of heaven and earth with firm determination.
Suddenly you will see the original thing;
everywhere you meet the source,
all is a forest of jewels.
When you are deluded
and full of doubt, even a thousand
books of scripture are still not enough.
When you have realized understanding,
even one word is already too much.
Zen is communicated personally,
through mental recognition.
It is not handed on directly
by written words.
In the springtime,
thousands of different kinds of flowers
bloom. Your heart can also bloom. You can let your
heart open up to the world. Love is possible — do not be afraid
of it. Love is indispensable to life, and if in the past you
have suffered because of love, you can
learn to love again.
Depending
on where you look,
what you touch, you are changing
all the time. The carbon inside you, accounting
for about 18 percent of your being, could have existed in any
number of creatures or natural disasters before finding
you. That particular atom residing somewhere
above your left eyebrow? It could well have
been a smooth, riverbed pebble
before deciding to call
you home.
You see,
you are not so soft after
all; you are rock and wave and
the peeling bark of trees, you are ladybirds
and the smell of a garden after the rain.
When you put your best foot forward,
you are taking the north side
of a mountain with
you.