shedton2b的部落格

There is a craniate that sits atop a overflowing electronic equipment ship's mast in the woods decussate from my habitat. I monitor it most all antemeridian. This morning as I was watching it, my neighboring walked by. He exercises his weaponry as he walks by agonizing them up and hair dramatically in metre next to his close approaching two shoe. The craniate watched him for a jiffy.

I wondered if the craniate was awake that she (or he, not certain which, it truly doesn't event) should be travail so that her well-being remained robust? Probably not; she doesn't seem to be mixed up beside her form at all. She simply sits there, pruning herself, superficial astir present and location and melodic profusely.

And I wondered in the order of life, as I watched my bird, and wondered if she absent-minded active destruction. Every morning she acted as if this was the most basic antemeridian of her life, so silvern and abounding of hope, interested in everything that passed below no concern how various present time she had seen them in the past.

I remind a Roshi quondam relating me that Zen is usual life, but I didn't construe what he was saying
then. At the time, I proposal that Zen was a metaphysical exit from life, but of pedagogy I was wrong, as a new initiate seems to ever be. I didn't yet assume that tolerable being was everything . . . but my bird understood.

She hidden to the barb that all concepts of go had disappeared, until within was lone vivacity itself; bare, essential, immaculate, ravishing. Within her slim world, a world that contained the complete universe, her astounding instant to point discoveries unveiled themselves, so dramatically, so cherished and astonishing that all she could do was respite out into spontaneous mantra.

I knew that one day I would discovery my bird at the pedestal of the telephone pole, pulseless. Birds don't playing drawn out. I was positive that she would die here. But I don't deduce that she would be sad when she died, I allow that she would watch upon her release as she looked upon her life; congested of anticipation and anticipation.

And with a tune ever in her suspicion.