From an old notebook:
Find the viewpoint that has no perspective. Look at the afternoon rain with eyes of infinity. No comment – not a word about the joy brimming over inside.
The abstract intelligence produces a fatigue that’s the worst of all fatigues. It doesn’t weigh on us like bodily fatigue, nor disconcert like the fatigue of emotional experience. It’s the weight of our consciousness of the world, a shortness of breath in our soul.
Ryokan had something to say about one particular Autumn Night:
Autumn night - unable to sleep, I leave my tiny cottage. Fall insects cry under the rocks, and The cold branches are sparsely covered. Far away, from deep in the valley, the sound of water. The moon rises slowly over the highest peak; I stand there quietly for a long time and My robe becomes moist with dew. Ryokan, One Robe, One Bowl
If I read this with imagination active, it takes me subtly, beautifully into silence where there is no pleasure and no pain.
Apologies to all those who follow and comment on my blog for my lack of response over the past week. I am barely getting to make one post a week. Life passes by like a field mouse not shaking the grass…
Thanks for visiting!