In the ocean
of the holy dharma there is neither
movement nor stillness. The essence of the wave
is like a mirror; when something comes, the reflection
appears. When there is nothing in the mind,
wind and waves are both
forgotten.
In the ocean
of the holy dharma there is neither
movement nor stillness. The essence of the wave
is like a mirror; when something comes, the reflection
appears. When there is nothing in the mind,
wind and waves are both
forgotten.
A lot
of unimportant inner
litter and bits and pieces have
to be swept out first. Even a small head
can be piled high inside with irrelevant distractions.
True, there may be edifying emotions and thoughts, too, but
the clutter is ever present. So let this be the aim of the meditation:
to turn one’s innermost being into a vast empty plain, with none
of that treacherous undergrowth to impede the view. So that
something of “God” can enter you, and something of “Love,”
too. Not the kind of love-de-luxe that you can revel in
deliciously for half an hour, taking pride in
how sublime you feel, but the love
you can apply to small,
everyday things.
…
Looked
at Japanese prints
with Glassner this afternoon.
That’s how I want to write. With that much
space round a few words. They should simply emphasize
the silence. Just like that print with the sprig of blossom in the
lower corner. A few delicate brush strokes—but with what attention
to the smallest detail—and all around it space, not empty but inspired.
The few great things that matter in life can be said in a few words.
If I should ever write—but what?—I would like to brush in a
few words against a wordless background. To describe
the silence and the stillness and to inspire them.
What matters is the right relationship between
words and wordlessness, the wordlessness
in which much more happens than
in all the words one can
string together.
The mind
can go in a thousand
directions, but on this beautiful
path, I walk in peace. With each step,
the wind blows. With each step,
a flower blooms.
Be the same
all the way through:
quiet, still, at home. In the
absence of mind, all phenomena
can be seen for what they
are — empty. This is
freedom.
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Repeatedly
undergoing birth and death
is just due to grasping at objects.
When we reflect back on the mind that
grasps at objects, we see that the real identity
of mind is originally pure. Within this purity, grasping
mind does not exist. Within nirvana, fundamentally
there are no thoughts moving; the movement
is ever still. Being still, there is
no seeking.
Records of the Teachers and Students of the Lanka
Stabilization is the final stage of escape from the profane, the foundation of attaining the Way, the accomplishment of cultivated stillness, the consummation of maintaining calm.
When the body is like a withered tree, the mind like dead ashes, without reactivity, without seeking anything, this is the epitome of tranquility. There is no mindfulness of stabilization, yet there is stability. Thus it is called tranquil stabilization.
Chuang-tzu said, “One whose capacity is tranquilly stabilized radiates natural light.” Capacity refers to the mind, natural light is active insight. The mind is a capacitor of the Way; when it is as uncluttered and quiet as can be, then the Way stays there and insight emerges.
Insight comes from original nature; one does not just come to have it now. That is why it is called natural light. It is just because of the muddling confusion caused by craving that it comes to be obscure. Clean it, make it flexible, rectify it, and restore it to purity and calm, and the original real conscious spirit will gradually become clear of itself; this does not mean that you are just now producing that insight.
Once insight has emerged, treasure it and do not compromise stability by too many concerns.
Treatise on Sitting Forgetting