Saturday, August 25, 2007
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Osho's favourite zen story: Where does this path lead to?
The emperor of China was a very great painter; he loved painting, and he used to call other painters to the palace every year to have an exhibition. When he had become very old, he declared, at one annual function, "Now I am very old and I want to see the most perfect painting in the world. I will provide space in the palace to the painter, and whatever he needs..."
So, a few painters who thought they could create such a painting stayed in the palace. Somebody completed his painting in one month and brought it to the emperor. He had done well, but it was not the most perfect.
By and by three years passed, and only one painter remained. For three years he had been painting -- and he was not painting on canvas; he was painting on the wall of the palace where his room was allotted to him. He had painted a beautiful forest... and a moonlit night, a small river, and a very small footpath going round and round around the trees and then disappearing in the forest.
After three years he came to the emperor and said, "Now you can come. Whatever I can do I have done. I think it is the most perfect painting in the world. So I invite Your Honour to come, and I don't ask any reward -- these three years were the most precious that I have lived. Just your seeing it is enough."
All the other painters had been painting for reward, and when you are painting out of some motivation, for some reward, your painting cannot be perfect. Your motivation will be the dust. This painter said, "I am not at all interested in any reward; you have already given it to me. These three years I have lived such a beautiful life, day and night; nothing could be more than you have given me. Now, just look at the painting so that I can go back home. My children, my wife, may be waiting for me."
The emperor went with him. Certainly this painter had done the greatest job. He became so interested that he asked the painter, "Where does this small path go, finally
The painter said, "I have never gone on it but if you are willing to come with me, we can go and see where it leads. This question has arisen in me also many times, 'Where does this small path lead?'"
So, the painter and the emperor both entered the path and disappeared behind the trees, and nothing has been heard about them since.
This story has always made me immensely happy. There is no returning from perfection, there is no going back. Perfection takes you and you disappear.
So, a few painters who thought they could create such a painting stayed in the palace. Somebody completed his painting in one month and brought it to the emperor. He had done well, but it was not the most perfect.
By and by three years passed, and only one painter remained. For three years he had been painting -- and he was not painting on canvas; he was painting on the wall of the palace where his room was allotted to him. He had painted a beautiful forest... and a moonlit night, a small river, and a very small footpath going round and round around the trees and then disappearing in the forest.
After three years he came to the emperor and said, "Now you can come. Whatever I can do I have done. I think it is the most perfect painting in the world. So I invite Your Honour to come, and I don't ask any reward -- these three years were the most precious that I have lived. Just your seeing it is enough."
All the other painters had been painting for reward, and when you are painting out of some motivation, for some reward, your painting cannot be perfect. Your motivation will be the dust. This painter said, "I am not at all interested in any reward; you have already given it to me. These three years I have lived such a beautiful life, day and night; nothing could be more than you have given me. Now, just look at the painting so that I can go back home. My children, my wife, may be waiting for me."
The emperor went with him. Certainly this painter had done the greatest job. He became so interested that he asked the painter, "Where does this small path go, finally
The painter said, "I have never gone on it but if you are willing to come with me, we can go and see where it leads. This question has arisen in me also many times, 'Where does this small path lead?'"
So, the painter and the emperor both entered the path and disappeared behind the trees, and nothing has been heard about them since.
This story has always made me immensely happy. There is no returning from perfection, there is no going back. Perfection takes you and you disappear.
Don't get caught in decorations
Sekiso wrote:
The dharma spring
has never run dry;
if is flowing even now.
A single drop has fallen and spread
far and deep.
Don't be caught
by the decorations at the edge
and the wall around it.
In the dead of the night the moon shines
from the middle of the pond.
What Sekiso is saying is very symbolic. The dharma spring -- the spring when those who are ripe become suddenly full of flowers, when the dark night ends and the morning has come -- The dharma spring has never run dry. He is saying, "Remember, the dharma spring has never run dry; it always comes, just as it used to come in Gautam Buddha's time, or even before." It is part of eternal nature. It is just that you have to be ready to catch the train. The train always comes, but mostly either you reach the railway station before the train has come, or you reach after the train has left -- you always find an empty platform. Sad and frustrated, you go back home.
The dharma spring has never run dry. It always is available; just you are not ready. The whole responsibility has to be taken by you, on your own shoulders. The existence is as much in favor of buddhas as it has always been, but you are not even looking at it. You are not preparing, you are not even witnessing so that when it comes... In fact, it never comes, it is always there -- YOU come to IT. The deeper your witnessing, and suddenly you find a tremendous reality flooding you. In your very innermost center it is still waiting.
The dharma spring has never run dry; if is flowing even now. A single drop has fallen and spread far and deep. The ocean of dharma spring is always ready to absorb you; it has always space for you, you are always welcome. Nobody has been rejected by dharma nature. If even a single drop has fallen, it has spread all over the ocean, far and deep.
be caught by the decorations at the edge and the wall around it. In the dead of the night the moon shines from the middle of the pond. We are all attracted by decorations, by the non-essentials. A lake may have a wall around it with beautiful statues, sculpture, architectural designs. And you may get so much involved in those decorations that you fail to see that the pond is reflecting the moon, exactly in the middle. This is just symbolic. It is saying that the existential truth is always shining in the middle of this whole world of decorations. Power, all kinds of desires, motivations, longings -- amongst this whole crowd, exactly in the middle, exactly in the center of your being, the full moon is reflected. Don't get caught in decorations.
The dharma spring
has never run dry;
if is flowing even now.
A single drop has fallen and spread
far and deep.
Don't be caught
by the decorations at the edge
and the wall around it.
In the dead of the night the moon shines
from the middle of the pond.
What Sekiso is saying is very symbolic. The dharma spring -- the spring when those who are ripe become suddenly full of flowers, when the dark night ends and the morning has come -- The dharma spring has never run dry. He is saying, "Remember, the dharma spring has never run dry; it always comes, just as it used to come in Gautam Buddha's time, or even before." It is part of eternal nature. It is just that you have to be ready to catch the train. The train always comes, but mostly either you reach the railway station before the train has come, or you reach after the train has left -- you always find an empty platform. Sad and frustrated, you go back home.
The dharma spring has never run dry. It always is available; just you are not ready. The whole responsibility has to be taken by you, on your own shoulders. The existence is as much in favor of buddhas as it has always been, but you are not even looking at it. You are not preparing, you are not even witnessing so that when it comes... In fact, it never comes, it is always there -- YOU come to IT. The deeper your witnessing, and suddenly you find a tremendous reality flooding you. In your very innermost center it is still waiting.
The dharma spring has never run dry; if is flowing even now. A single drop has fallen and spread far and deep. The ocean of dharma spring is always ready to absorb you; it has always space for you, you are always welcome. Nobody has been rejected by dharma nature. If even a single drop has fallen, it has spread all over the ocean, far and deep.
be caught by the decorations at the edge and the wall around it. In the dead of the night the moon shines from the middle of the pond. We are all attracted by decorations, by the non-essentials. A lake may have a wall around it with beautiful statues, sculpture, architectural designs. And you may get so much involved in those decorations that you fail to see that the pond is reflecting the moon, exactly in the middle. This is just symbolic. It is saying that the existential truth is always shining in the middle of this whole world of decorations. Power, all kinds of desires, motivations, longings -- amongst this whole crowd, exactly in the middle, exactly in the center of your being, the full moon is reflected. Don't get caught in decorations.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Do everything with full of awareness and life will be a song
Another haiku by Basho:
Dying cricket --
how full of
life, his song
The cricket is dying, but is still singing....
Dying cricket --
how full of
life, his song
This should be the situation of every alert and aware person. Even dying full of life, full of song -- and then there is no death.
Dying cricket --
how full of
life, his song
The cricket is dying, but is still singing....
Dying cricket --
how full of
life, his song
This should be the situation of every alert and aware person. Even dying full of life, full of song -- and then there is no death.
Just wait, everybody has his own spring
A haiku by Basho:
Moonlit plum tree --
wait,
spring will come
In a very indirect way, in a very delicate way, Basho says, Moonlit plum tree... Don't be in a hurry, Wait, spring will come. It is metaphoric. It is about you, not about the plum tree. Just wait, everybody has his own spring. If you rightly wait, the spring can come right now. It depends on the depth of your waiting.
Moonlit plum tree --
wait,
spring will come
In a very indirect way, in a very delicate way, Basho says, Moonlit plum tree... Don't be in a hurry, Wait, spring will come. It is metaphoric. It is about you, not about the plum tree. Just wait, everybody has his own spring. If you rightly wait, the spring can come right now. It depends on the depth of your waiting.
Everyone is a stranger here!!
Basho wrote:
Autumn eve -- please
turn to me
I, too, am a stranger
Basho's haikus have no parallel. All Zen masters have written haikus, but Basho seems to have melted and merged into nature more deeply than anybody else.
Autumn eve -- please turn to me. I, too, am a stranger. Just as you are, he is saying, "Here in this world we are all strangers." We ordinarily forget the matter, we start taking everybody for granted. Have you ever thought about it? These ten thousand buddhas are all strangers. We make efforts to forget that everybody is a stranger -- we make marriages, friendships, we try to introduce each other -- just to forget the feeling that everybody is a stranger. It will make us very much frightened, that we are surrounded with strangers. All our families, all our clubs, all our religions, all our nations are only an opportunity to hide the fact that we are all strangers.
Zen is an effort to make you fully aware of your strangeness. This will give you freedom from the crowd. This will give you a sense of being yourself, a deep intensity of consciousness that you are surrounded in a strange world where everybody is a stranger. It has many deeper implications.
If you can understand the fact that everybody is a stranger, all your expectations will drop. Who are you to expect? A husband expects certain things from the wife. He has forgotten the fact that the wife is a stranger.
We have just met on the way, talked a little bit, walked together on the way, and we have forgotten the fact that we are still strangers.
We don't know ourselves, how can we know others? But on the surface, we try to make familiarity, we try to forget the fearsome idea that we are alone. The wife, the children, the Rotary Club... somewhere we want to be associated. We don't want to stand alone in deep freedom under the sky, and dance under the sun and the rain. No, we simply want a coziness with the crowd, we want to disappear in the crowd -- it feels warmer there. It is not without any reason that Jesus could call people sheep, and himself the shepherd -- and nobody objected.
This is strange: Jesus was crucified, but nobody ever objected to any of his teachings, and nobody ever argued against him. The reality seems to be that people accepted it deep down themselves that they were nothing but sheep, they needed a crowd to surround them, they could not move alone in an unknown territory.
Nobody stood up to Jesus, and said to him, "You are insulting humanity. You are humiliating us by being a shepherd and making us sheep." That nobody objected makes it clear that the people felt he was right, "We need a crowd."
Basho is saying, Autumn eve -- please turn to me. -- you are not the only stranger here -- I, too, am a stranger.
Autumn eve -- please
turn to me
I, too, am a stranger
Basho's haikus have no parallel. All Zen masters have written haikus, but Basho seems to have melted and merged into nature more deeply than anybody else.
Autumn eve -- please turn to me. I, too, am a stranger. Just as you are, he is saying, "Here in this world we are all strangers." We ordinarily forget the matter, we start taking everybody for granted. Have you ever thought about it? These ten thousand buddhas are all strangers. We make efforts to forget that everybody is a stranger -- we make marriages, friendships, we try to introduce each other -- just to forget the feeling that everybody is a stranger. It will make us very much frightened, that we are surrounded with strangers. All our families, all our clubs, all our religions, all our nations are only an opportunity to hide the fact that we are all strangers.
Zen is an effort to make you fully aware of your strangeness. This will give you freedom from the crowd. This will give you a sense of being yourself, a deep intensity of consciousness that you are surrounded in a strange world where everybody is a stranger. It has many deeper implications.
If you can understand the fact that everybody is a stranger, all your expectations will drop. Who are you to expect? A husband expects certain things from the wife. He has forgotten the fact that the wife is a stranger.
We have just met on the way, talked a little bit, walked together on the way, and we have forgotten the fact that we are still strangers.
We don't know ourselves, how can we know others? But on the surface, we try to make familiarity, we try to forget the fearsome idea that we are alone. The wife, the children, the Rotary Club... somewhere we want to be associated. We don't want to stand alone in deep freedom under the sky, and dance under the sun and the rain. No, we simply want a coziness with the crowd, we want to disappear in the crowd -- it feels warmer there. It is not without any reason that Jesus could call people sheep, and himself the shepherd -- and nobody objected.
This is strange: Jesus was crucified, but nobody ever objected to any of his teachings, and nobody ever argued against him. The reality seems to be that people accepted it deep down themselves that they were nothing but sheep, they needed a crowd to surround them, they could not move alone in an unknown territory.
Nobody stood up to Jesus, and said to him, "You are insulting humanity. You are humiliating us by being a shepherd and making us sheep." That nobody objected makes it clear that the people felt he was right, "We need a crowd."
Basho is saying, Autumn eve -- please turn to me. -- you are not the only stranger here -- I, too, am a stranger.
Just a silent monk waiting for his tea
And another haiku by Basho:
For his morning tea
a monk sits down in utter silence --
confronted by chrysanthemums
For his morning tea a monk sits down in utter silence... Tea has become associated with Bodhidharma, who introduced Zen into China. He loved tea, and strangely, it helps you to be awake; otherwise, sitting silently, one tends to fall asleep. So tea has become a special Zen thing. He is just depicting a picture. Under the tree of chrysanthemums, a monk sits in utter silence for his morning tea. Nothing is said -- just a silent monk waiting for his tea. These haikus are, as I have said to you, paintings in words.
For his morning tea
a monk sits down in utter silence --
confronted by chrysanthemums
For his morning tea a monk sits down in utter silence... Tea has become associated with Bodhidharma, who introduced Zen into China. He loved tea, and strangely, it helps you to be awake; otherwise, sitting silently, one tends to fall asleep. So tea has become a special Zen thing. He is just depicting a picture. Under the tree of chrysanthemums, a monk sits in utter silence for his morning tea. Nothing is said -- just a silent monk waiting for his tea. These haikus are, as I have said to you, paintings in words.
If you are not mad, your poetry will be very poor!!
A haiku by Basho....
Mad with poetry
I stride with chikusai
into the wind
Mad with poetry... If you are not mad, your poetry will be very poor. Poetry which is sane will be ordinary, prosaic, just a composition of words without any essential meaning running through it. To be a poet is in a certain sense to be mad.
Mad with poetry, I stride like chikusa into the wind. It has not been recognized by the religions of the world. I want to make it an absolute discontinuity with the past in the sense that I don't consider the older saints to be authentically religious. They can be divided in two categories -- either they are masochists who enjoy torturing themselves, or they are sadists who enjoy teaching people to torture themselves, who enjoy others torturing. And it is possible that one man may be both -- he may enjoy torturing himself and he may enjoy torturing others.
Most of the saints belong to the psychologically sick people, and the real religious people have not been taken in account. They are the poets, the dancers, the painters, the musicians, the sculptors. All kinds of creative people are the truly religious people, but no religion accepts them as religious because these people are functioning according to their nature, not according to any scripture. These people are almost part of the universe.
Mad with poetry
I stride with chikusai
into the wind
Mad with poetry... If you are not mad, your poetry will be very poor. Poetry which is sane will be ordinary, prosaic, just a composition of words without any essential meaning running through it. To be a poet is in a certain sense to be mad.
Mad with poetry, I stride like chikusa into the wind. It has not been recognized by the religions of the world. I want to make it an absolute discontinuity with the past in the sense that I don't consider the older saints to be authentically religious. They can be divided in two categories -- either they are masochists who enjoy torturing themselves, or they are sadists who enjoy teaching people to torture themselves, who enjoy others torturing. And it is possible that one man may be both -- he may enjoy torturing himself and he may enjoy torturing others.
Most of the saints belong to the psychologically sick people, and the real religious people have not been taken in account. They are the poets, the dancers, the painters, the musicians, the sculptors. All kinds of creative people are the truly religious people, but no religion accepts them as religious because these people are functioning according to their nature, not according to any scripture. These people are almost part of the universe.
A haiku is a painting in words
A haiku by Basho:
I clap my hands
and with the echoes
it begins the dawn --
the summer moon
Basho is one of the greatest poets of the world, but he has written only haikus -- very symbolic but very miraculous, very simple but very mysterious. They are all to be understood through visualisation, because Zen does not believe in words. Visualise and perhaps you may have some understanding.
I clap my hands and with the echoes -- in the mountains -- it begins the dawn -- the summer moon. The summer moon is still hanging and the sun is going to rise. And I have clapped my hands, and the echoes are still resounding in the mountains. It is just a painting in words.
A haiku has to be understood -- a painting in words, not only a poetry in words -- and it has to be visualised. Just visualise yourself surrounded by mountains. And you...(Osho claps his hands) ... clap your hands. The mountains go on echoing and the summer moon is still there and the dawn has come. The sun will be arising soon. Why should he write these small haikus? He used to live by the side of a lake surrounded by mountains, meditating in utter silence.
Once in a while he would open his eyes and whatever he would see, he would note down. These haikus are not out of the mind. These haikus are reflections in a mirror, in a no-mind. In a silent heart the summer moon, the dawn very close and he claps his hands, and all the mountains resound with echoes.
A meditator, according to Basho, will go on searching deep within himself, but that does not mean that he should lose contact with the outside world. Once in a while he should open his eyes. With all his emptiness he should mirror the outside world. Those reflections are collected in these haikus. They don't mean anything, they simply depict a picture.
I clap my hands
and with the echoes
it begins the dawn --
the summer moon
Basho is one of the greatest poets of the world, but he has written only haikus -- very symbolic but very miraculous, very simple but very mysterious. They are all to be understood through visualisation, because Zen does not believe in words. Visualise and perhaps you may have some understanding.
I clap my hands and with the echoes -- in the mountains -- it begins the dawn -- the summer moon. The summer moon is still hanging and the sun is going to rise. And I have clapped my hands, and the echoes are still resounding in the mountains. It is just a painting in words.
A haiku has to be understood -- a painting in words, not only a poetry in words -- and it has to be visualised. Just visualise yourself surrounded by mountains. And you...(Osho claps his hands) ... clap your hands. The mountains go on echoing and the summer moon is still there and the dawn has come. The sun will be arising soon. Why should he write these small haikus? He used to live by the side of a lake surrounded by mountains, meditating in utter silence.
Once in a while he would open his eyes and whatever he would see, he would note down. These haikus are not out of the mind. These haikus are reflections in a mirror, in a no-mind. In a silent heart the summer moon, the dawn very close and he claps his hands, and all the mountains resound with echoes.
A meditator, according to Basho, will go on searching deep within himself, but that does not mean that he should lose contact with the outside world. Once in a while he should open his eyes. With all his emptiness he should mirror the outside world. Those reflections are collected in these haikus. They don't mean anything, they simply depict a picture.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The only religion in the world worth calling a religion
Another Zen poet:
Searchinf ro him
took my strength
one night I bent
my pointing finger --
never such a moon!
These people are natural poets. They have dropped all ideologies. They have started having relationships with pine trees and the clouds and the lightning; with the hills, with the rivers, with the ocean. They have dropped out of the human world which is absolutely false and they have regained again their roots in nature. This is, in my vision, the only religion in the world worth calling religion. All other religions are just exploitations of man and his search for himself. They are deviations, distractions. They lead you away from yourself, they don't bring you home.
Searchinf ro him
took my strength
one night I bent
my pointing finger --
never such a moon!
These people are natural poets. They have dropped all ideologies. They have started having relationships with pine trees and the clouds and the lightning; with the hills, with the rivers, with the ocean. They have dropped out of the human world which is absolutely false and they have regained again their roots in nature. This is, in my vision, the only religion in the world worth calling religion. All other religions are just exploitations of man and his search for himself. They are deviations, distractions. They lead you away from yourself, they don't bring you home.
Have an authentic longing to be natural
Ryota wrote:
So brilliant a moonshine:
If ever I am bron again --
a hilltop pine!
He is asking that if he is going to be born again, he would like to be a hilltop pine. Such a beautiful moon, hanging over the hilltop pine...
These people are not ordinary poets. They are expressing an authentic longing to be natural, peaceful, silent ...
HILLTOP PINE! ... because man seems to be so insane.
So brilliant a moonshine:
If ever I am bron again --
a hilltop pine!
He is asking that if he is going to be born again, he would like to be a hilltop pine. Such a beautiful moon, hanging over the hilltop pine...
These people are not ordinary poets. They are expressing an authentic longing to be natural, peaceful, silent ...
HILLTOP PINE! ... because man seems to be so insane.
Cherry flowers in moonlight
A haiku of Hoitsu:
Buddha:
cherry flowers
in moonlight
Just so simple. Just so beautiful.
Buddha:
cherry flowers
in moonlight
Buddha:
cherry flowers
in moonlight
Just so simple. Just so beautiful.
Buddha:
cherry flowers
in moonlight
If it was in my power, I would have given you the moon!
Ryokan wrote:
The thief
left it behind --
the moon at the window
This is just what Ryokan wrote after the thief had gone. The whole story is beautiful. One night a thief entered into Ryokan's small hut. Ryokan had only one blanket which he used day and night to cover his body. That was his only possession. He was lying down but he was not asleep, so he opened his eyes and saw the thief entering. He felt great compassion for him because he knew there was nothing in the house. "If the poor fellow had informed me before, I could have begged something from the neighbours and kept it here for him to steal. But now what can I do"
Seeing that there was nothing, that he had entered into a monk's hut, the thief started to go out. Ryokan could not resist. He gave his blanket to the thief.
The thief said, "What are you doing? You are standing naked. It is a very cold night!"
He said, "Don't worry about me. But don't go empty-handed. I have enjoyed this moment, you have made me feel like a rich man. Thieves usually enter the palaces of emperors. By your entering here, my hut has also become a palace, I have also become an emperor. In my joy this is just a gift
Even the thief felt sorry for him, and he said, "No, I cannot receive this gift because you don't have anything. How you are going to pass the night? It is so cold, and it is getting colder!"
Ryokan said with tears in his eyes, "You remind me again and again of my poverty. If it was in my power, I would have taken hold of the full moon and given it to you"
When the thief left he wrote in his diary:
The thief
left it behind --
the moon at the window
These haikus are not ordinary poems. These are statements of deep meditativeness.
The thief
left it behind --
the moon at the window
This is just what Ryokan wrote after the thief had gone. The whole story is beautiful. One night a thief entered into Ryokan's small hut. Ryokan had only one blanket which he used day and night to cover his body. That was his only possession. He was lying down but he was not asleep, so he opened his eyes and saw the thief entering. He felt great compassion for him because he knew there was nothing in the house. "If the poor fellow had informed me before, I could have begged something from the neighbours and kept it here for him to steal. But now what can I do"
Seeing that there was nothing, that he had entered into a monk's hut, the thief started to go out. Ryokan could not resist. He gave his blanket to the thief.
The thief said, "What are you doing? You are standing naked. It is a very cold night!"
He said, "Don't worry about me. But don't go empty-handed. I have enjoyed this moment, you have made me feel like a rich man. Thieves usually enter the palaces of emperors. By your entering here, my hut has also become a palace, I have also become an emperor. In my joy this is just a gift
Even the thief felt sorry for him, and he said, "No, I cannot receive this gift because you don't have anything. How you are going to pass the night? It is so cold, and it is getting colder!"
Ryokan said with tears in his eyes, "You remind me again and again of my poverty. If it was in my power, I would have taken hold of the full moon and given it to you"
When the thief left he wrote in his diary:
The thief
left it behind --
the moon at the window
These haikus are not ordinary poems. These are statements of deep meditativeness.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Become a watcher on the hills
Another Zen poem:
Wind subsiding,
the flowers still fall;
birds crying,
the mountain silence deepens
This must be a man of meditation ... sitting silently by the side of the mountain, watching whatever is happening. Meditation is, in essence, becoming a watcher on the hills.
Wind subsiding,
the flowers still fall;
birds crying,
the mountain silence deepens
This must be a man of meditation ... sitting silently by the side of the mountain, watching whatever is happening. Meditation is, in essence, becoming a watcher on the hills.
Know the splendour of your being
Basho wrote:
Skylar sing all day,
and day not long enough
He is saying that you work the whole day, your whole life, never knowing the splendour of your being because your work -- your so-called mundane activities -- takes all your time. Life is so short, seventy years pass so quickly ... You don't know even when your childhood becomes your youth, you don't know when your youth disappears and you become old, you don't know that you are moving continuously towards the grave. Whatever you do, the grave is coming closer.
Remember, life is short, but it has become too short because of your unnecessary activity. I am surprised at people who are playing cards or chess, or going to the movie. And if you ask them, "What are you doing?" they say they are killing time. As if too much time, superfluous, has been given to them and they are killing it by playing cards.
Just look at people leaning on the chess board as if it is their life, standing in a line before a movie house. But the strange thing is, people go on exploring the same territory again and again and again. And still people think they are sane.
Skylar sing all day,
and day not long enough
He is saying that you work the whole day, your whole life, never knowing the splendour of your being because your work -- your so-called mundane activities -- takes all your time. Life is so short, seventy years pass so quickly ... You don't know even when your childhood becomes your youth, you don't know when your youth disappears and you become old, you don't know that you are moving continuously towards the grave. Whatever you do, the grave is coming closer.
Remember, life is short, but it has become too short because of your unnecessary activity. I am surprised at people who are playing cards or chess, or going to the movie. And if you ask them, "What are you doing?" they say they are killing time. As if too much time, superfluous, has been given to them and they are killing it by playing cards.
Just look at people leaning on the chess board as if it is their life, standing in a line before a movie house. But the strange thing is, people go on exploring the same territory again and again and again. And still people think they are sane.
Zen speaks the language of poetry
Another poem:
Scoop up the water,
and the moon is in your hands;
hold the flowers,
and your clothes are scented with them
This is something tremendously beautiful. Zen speaks the language of poetry. What the poet is trying to say is that if you come across a buddha -- you may know it or not -- some fragrance of the buddha and his presence will be caught by your being. It was a usual practice in Zen that seekers continued moving from one master to another master until the moment they found a man whose very presence fulfilled them; in whose presence all their masks and defenses fell down; in whose presence they became suddenly naked, just-born, innocent.
Then this was the sign that you had found your master.
Scoop up the water,
and the moon is in your hands;
hold the flowers,
and your clothes are scented with them
This is something tremendously beautiful. Zen speaks the language of poetry. What the poet is trying to say is that if you come across a buddha -- you may know it or not -- some fragrance of the buddha and his presence will be caught by your being. It was a usual practice in Zen that seekers continued moving from one master to another master until the moment they found a man whose very presence fulfilled them; in whose presence all their masks and defenses fell down; in whose presence they became suddenly naked, just-born, innocent.
Then this was the sign that you had found your master.
Reflect the whole existence in its purity
Since the music stopped,
no shadow's touched
my door: again the village moon
is above the river
Even if you become enlightened, only your vision changes, otherwise everything remains the same. Of course, the rose is more beautiful than it used to be. Just because all the dust from your mirror is missing, the world becomes a paradise. ...
My door: again the villag moon
is above the river
... reflecting in the river.
The more you become clean of your thoughts which are just dust, the more you become reflective. And the day you can reflect the whole existence in its purity you have arrived home.
no shadow's touched
my door: again the village moon
is above the river
Even if you become enlightened, only your vision changes, otherwise everything remains the same. Of course, the rose is more beautiful than it used to be. Just because all the dust from your mirror is missing, the world becomes a paradise. ...
My door: again the villag moon
is above the river
... reflecting in the river.
The more you become clean of your thoughts which are just dust, the more you become reflective. And the day you can reflect the whole existence in its purity you have arrived home.
Let go and relax into your inner centre
A poet has written:
Taking hold, one is astray
in nothingness
Letting go, the origin is regained
Letting go, relaxing, settling into yourself, the origin is regained.
Taking hold, one is astray
in nothingness
Letting go, the origin is regained
Letting go, relaxing, settling into yourself, the origin is regained.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Don't look for meaning in the world of beauty
A haiku by Shiki
Evening moon:
Plum blossoms start
to fall upon the flute
These are pictures seen by a deeply meditative consciousness. They don't mean anything, they are not supposed to have any meaning, they are pictorial.
Once Picasso was asked .... A man was watching him painting continuously for hours; finally he said, "I cannot resist asking, because I have been watching you paint for hours, but I can't make any sense out of what you are painting. What is it? What is the meaning of it?"
Picasso looked at the man and said, "I don't know. You can ask the picture yourself."
The man said, "Are you insane or something?"
Picasso said, "Perhaps, but nobody asks the rose, 'Why are you so beautiful? Why are you here in the first place?' Nobody asks a sunset, nobody asks a full moon, but everybody goes on harassing me, 'What is the meaning of your painting?' There is no meaning, it is a statement. I have enjoyed it tremendously, just the colors, flowing into each other, creating strange patterns."
Meaning is no more relevant in the world of beauty. And what to say about the world of meditation? -- no meaning, only significance. That's why those who have experienced have remained silent, or have spoken only to indicate to you the path to be silent.
Evening moon:
Plum blossoms start
to fall upon the flute
These are pictures seen by a deeply meditative consciousness. They don't mean anything, they are not supposed to have any meaning, they are pictorial.
Once Picasso was asked .... A man was watching him painting continuously for hours; finally he said, "I cannot resist asking, because I have been watching you paint for hours, but I can't make any sense out of what you are painting. What is it? What is the meaning of it?"
Picasso looked at the man and said, "I don't know. You can ask the picture yourself."
The man said, "Are you insane or something?"
Picasso said, "Perhaps, but nobody asks the rose, 'Why are you so beautiful? Why are you here in the first place?' Nobody asks a sunset, nobody asks a full moon, but everybody goes on harassing me, 'What is the meaning of your painting?' There is no meaning, it is a statement. I have enjoyed it tremendously, just the colors, flowing into each other, creating strange patterns."
Meaning is no more relevant in the world of beauty. And what to say about the world of meditation? -- no meaning, only significance. That's why those who have experienced have remained silent, or have spoken only to indicate to you the path to be silent.
Looking at the moon deepens your silence
Another haiku runs,
One full moon;
stars numberless;
the sky dark green
These are not ordinary poetries, these are expressions of deep meditation. Night, and particularly moonlit nights, have been found to be very supportive to meditation. Now even science suspects that the moon has a certain effect on the mind; because most of the people who go mad, go mad on a full moon night, hence the word 'lunatic'. It comes from luna, the moon.
Another word is 'moonstruck' .... More people commit suicide on the full moon than at any other time, and more people have become enlightened on the full moon than at any other time. Science has its own reasons .... The moon is really a part of the earth. Some four billion years ago, a great chunk of the earth separated from the earth. All our great oceans are because of that chunk; deep valleys were left for rain to fill and they became the oceans. The moon has one sixth the gravitation of the earth, because it is one sixth the size. That means that gazing at the moon, you slowly, slowly become more light, the gravitation is less on your being. That is the scientist's explanation. And you can see the effect on the seas, because they are holding the place of the moon ... where the moon used to be once.
That's why on the full moon there are great tides. In the human body there is eighty percent water, ocean water with the same chemicals. Just as tides arise in the ocean, something arises in the human being. If he is on the right track perhaps he may become enlightened. And if he is on the wrong track he can commit suicide or commit a murder or go mad ... there are thousands of ways. But there is only one way that reaches to your ultimate sensitivity, the way of meditation, the way of closing all outgoing doors and being in.
And once in a while these Zen meditators have opened their eyes and they have seen the moon or a sunset or a lotus, and out of their meditation a certain expression has arisen.
Only through meditation will you be able to understand it -- it is not poetry, it is not written with the mind, it is a heartfelt feeling.
One full moon;
stars numberless;
the sky dark green
If you are in deep meditation, and you see this dark sky with so many stars and one single moon, immediately your silence will become immensely deeper.
These haikus are not meaningful for those who have not experienced anything of meditation.
One full moon;
stars numberless;
the sky dark green
These are not ordinary poetries, these are expressions of deep meditation. Night, and particularly moonlit nights, have been found to be very supportive to meditation. Now even science suspects that the moon has a certain effect on the mind; because most of the people who go mad, go mad on a full moon night, hence the word 'lunatic'. It comes from luna, the moon.
Another word is 'moonstruck' .... More people commit suicide on the full moon than at any other time, and more people have become enlightened on the full moon than at any other time. Science has its own reasons .... The moon is really a part of the earth. Some four billion years ago, a great chunk of the earth separated from the earth. All our great oceans are because of that chunk; deep valleys were left for rain to fill and they became the oceans. The moon has one sixth the gravitation of the earth, because it is one sixth the size. That means that gazing at the moon, you slowly, slowly become more light, the gravitation is less on your being. That is the scientist's explanation. And you can see the effect on the seas, because they are holding the place of the moon ... where the moon used to be once.
That's why on the full moon there are great tides. In the human body there is eighty percent water, ocean water with the same chemicals. Just as tides arise in the ocean, something arises in the human being. If he is on the right track perhaps he may become enlightened. And if he is on the wrong track he can commit suicide or commit a murder or go mad ... there are thousands of ways. But there is only one way that reaches to your ultimate sensitivity, the way of meditation, the way of closing all outgoing doors and being in.
And once in a while these Zen meditators have opened their eyes and they have seen the moon or a sunset or a lotus, and out of their meditation a certain expression has arisen.
Only through meditation will you be able to understand it -- it is not poetry, it is not written with the mind, it is a heartfelt feeling.
One full moon;
stars numberless;
the sky dark green
If you are in deep meditation, and you see this dark sky with so many stars and one single moon, immediately your silence will become immensely deeper.
These haikus are not meaningful for those who have not experienced anything of meditation.
The moon on the pine
A haiku by Zen master Hokushi runs:
The moon on the pine;
I keep hanging it -- taking it off
and gazing each time
I have told you the moon is one of the great symbols in the mystery school of Zen ... you will come across the moon many times from different aspects.
The moon on the pine;
I keep hanging it ...
Just try to understand the poetry.
I keep hanging it -- taking it off
and gazing each time
Certainly you cannot hang the moon and take it off; but what you can do, you can open your eyes and you can close your eyes. When you close your eyes, you have taken the moon away. When you open your eyes, you bring the moon again. And gazing at it every time -- it never fulfills the desire, the longing for beautitude.
The moon on the pine;
I keep hanging it -- taking it off
and gazing each time
I have told you the moon is one of the great symbols in the mystery school of Zen ... you will come across the moon many times from different aspects.
The moon on the pine;
I keep hanging it ...
Just try to understand the poetry.
I keep hanging it -- taking it off
and gazing each time
Certainly you cannot hang the moon and take it off; but what you can do, you can open your eyes and you can close your eyes. When you close your eyes, you have taken the moon away. When you open your eyes, you bring the moon again. And gazing at it every time -- it never fulfills the desire, the longing for beautitude.
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
The whole existence is a beautiful symphony
Basho wrote:
Birth of art —
song of rice planters,
chorus from nowhere.
If you are utterly silent, then everything that happens in that silence, takes on a new colour. It becomes the very birth of art.
Song of rice planters — it is not much of a music. Poor rice planters, just to keep themselves engaged, they are singing in chorus. But, a man of silence immediately makes or gives a glamour to the ordinary stones.
Song of rice planters, chorus from nowhere. As far as he is concerned, he is utterly silent, so he wonders from where this chorus is coming. The whole existence has become a chorus, a beautiful symphony. Our lives can be lived as music, as poetry, as art...as mystics. Those are the right ways to live our lives. Right, because to live those styles, you will have to find your origin first.
Birth of art —
song of rice planters,
chorus from nowhere.
If you are utterly silent, then everything that happens in that silence, takes on a new colour. It becomes the very birth of art.
Song of rice planters — it is not much of a music. Poor rice planters, just to keep themselves engaged, they are singing in chorus. But, a man of silence immediately makes or gives a glamour to the ordinary stones.
Song of rice planters, chorus from nowhere. As far as he is concerned, he is utterly silent, so he wonders from where this chorus is coming. The whole existence has become a chorus, a beautiful symphony. Our lives can be lived as music, as poetry, as art...as mystics. Those are the right ways to live our lives. Right, because to live those styles, you will have to find your origin first.
Monday, May 21, 2007
Your freedom is total
Ni-butsu wrote:
One who rises,
rises of himself,
One who falls,
falls from himself
Autumn dew, spring breeze --
Nothing can possibly interfere.
One who rises, rises of himself. It is spontaneous.
One who falls, falls from himself -- that too is spontaneous.
Autumn dew, spring breeze -- Nothing can possibly interfere. Your freedom is total. You just have to know your innermost center and from there everything becomes spontaneous. Your love, your joy, your dance, your song -- everything arises on its own, and then it has a beauty. Totally different... when a poetry arises out of this silent space, it is not your composition. Ancient poets have not signed their names, ancient sculptors have not signed their names on their statues. Even people who made immensely beautiful things like the Taj Mahal have not left their name. Nobody knows who the architect was. But it must have arisen just like a poetry. It is poetry in marble. Music has arisen, but it is a totally different kind -- not the kind that you compose.
On the contrary, it composes you. Once a man has tasted the meditative space within him, everything that he touches becomes gold; everything that happens around him has a grace and a beauty and a splendour and a majesty. It is a miracle.
One who rises,
rises of himself,
One who falls,
falls from himself
Autumn dew, spring breeze --
Nothing can possibly interfere.
One who rises, rises of himself. It is spontaneous.
One who falls, falls from himself -- that too is spontaneous.
Autumn dew, spring breeze -- Nothing can possibly interfere. Your freedom is total. You just have to know your innermost center and from there everything becomes spontaneous. Your love, your joy, your dance, your song -- everything arises on its own, and then it has a beauty. Totally different... when a poetry arises out of this silent space, it is not your composition. Ancient poets have not signed their names, ancient sculptors have not signed their names on their statues. Even people who made immensely beautiful things like the Taj Mahal have not left their name. Nobody knows who the architect was. But it must have arisen just like a poetry. It is poetry in marble. Music has arisen, but it is a totally different kind -- not the kind that you compose.
On the contrary, it composes you. Once a man has tasted the meditative space within him, everything that he touches becomes gold; everything that happens around him has a grace and a beauty and a splendour and a majesty. It is a miracle.
Joy in the morning
Joy in the morning,
Sleep in the evening,
What else?
Ekon's haiku is so small, but so immensely beautiful.
If you can feel the joy in the morning, if you can feel the joy of being alive, every breath becomes a blessing, is a blessing.
Similarly, if you can see sleep as a great rest and relaxation in the evening, what else do you want?
In your insight everything becomes a joy and everything points to the same moon, the same truth.
Sleep in the evening,
What else?
Ekon's haiku is so small, but so immensely beautiful.
If you can feel the joy in the morning, if you can feel the joy of being alive, every breath becomes a blessing, is a blessing.
Similarly, if you can see sleep as a great rest and relaxation in the evening, what else do you want?
In your insight everything becomes a joy and everything points to the same moon, the same truth.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Laughing a new laugh
Ten years of dreams in the forest!
Now on the lake's edge laughing,
Laughing a new laugh
Ten years of dreams in the forest! -- because a meditator does not just one day become a meditator; dreams follow, for years. Even if you go into the deepest forest, those dreams haunt you.
But slowly slowly those dreams settle down because there is no point. You are no more interested in them; on the contrary you simply sit there watching. This watchfulness makes you so silent that when sitting by the lake's edge, laughing... laughing about what? Laughing about the whole world; that you have it within you and still you are searching for it.
Laughing a new laugh. A meditator laughs a new laugh. Its freshness comes from his depths.
Now on the lake's edge laughing,
Laughing a new laugh
Ten years of dreams in the forest! -- because a meditator does not just one day become a meditator; dreams follow, for years. Even if you go into the deepest forest, those dreams haunt you.
But slowly slowly those dreams settle down because there is no point. You are no more interested in them; on the contrary you simply sit there watching. This watchfulness makes you so silent that when sitting by the lake's edge, laughing... laughing about what? Laughing about the whole world; that you have it within you and still you are searching for it.
Laughing a new laugh. A meditator laughs a new laugh. Its freshness comes from his depths.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Just remember the buddha in your flesh
Bunan wrote:
Remain apart,
The world is yours --
A buddha in the flesh
Just remember the buddha in your flesh and the world is yours. You don't have to conquer it, it is already yours. But find out the buddha in the flesh. Just a few words, and a whole philosophy...
Remain apart... That is what I mean when I say, be a witness. Remain apart, just a watcher on the hill.
Remain apart, the world in yours -- A buddha in the flesh. This remaining apart brings two things. One, a buddha inside awakens; and the other, a new mastery over the whole existence. It is not political, it is existential. It does not need to have any map, it has no boundaries. Finding the buddha in you, you have found the emperor.
Remain apart,
The world is yours --
A buddha in the flesh
Just remember the buddha in your flesh and the world is yours. You don't have to conquer it, it is already yours. But find out the buddha in the flesh. Just a few words, and a whole philosophy...
Remain apart... That is what I mean when I say, be a witness. Remain apart, just a watcher on the hill.
Remain apart, the world in yours -- A buddha in the flesh. This remaining apart brings two things. One, a buddha inside awakens; and the other, a new mastery over the whole existence. It is not political, it is existential. It does not need to have any map, it has no boundaries. Finding the buddha in you, you have found the emperor.
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