cushion it’s possible to sit in meditation until the cushion is worn flat and never know the thing that is. let me tell you about that thing. it’s inside you (and me) already right here yay end of. Lu Tung Pin
a tree God is a tree said Kabir a tree in the forest; when the woodsmen come to cut Him down He will not defend Himself He will not shame them. And God, he said, is the earth an endless wonder that allows Himself to be ruined by us but He weeps yes, He weeps but only in front of close friends. And God is that animal endlessly beautiful that someone, somewhere is beating, is…
hammered gold and gold enamelling An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. O sages standing in God’s holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall,…
make friends with fire I look at my heart, such as it is, so much lower than what language can do; but yet: the heart is itself what is, is all that is, it is all that is disguised by speech. How many words will you speak today? Too many; much too many. How much will you be burned by love burning, burning? Not enough. Make friends with fire: that is…