The reality of Lightning Temple Buddha.
All day and all night
Lightning Temple Buddha sits in meditation.
Nine thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine years,
and three hundred and sixty-four days pass this way.
It’s a piece of time.
Is the Lightning Temple truly there?
Perhaps it is... but perhaps not.
Is the Lightning Temple Buddha truly there?
The same; it could be that he is...
and it could be that he isn't there either.
And now ten thousand years have passed
and every morning the sun still rises in the east
and every evening it still sets in the west.
No one saves us but ourselves.No one can and no one may.We ourselves must walk the path.— Buddhist proverb
Opposable thumbs and a measure of peace.
“I have a thirsty fish in me that can never find enough of what it is thirsty for.”
-Rumi
Raising his head above the water,
the old fish said to me,
"I must have crossed this cold sea
a thousand times already. It’s work.
Working and drinking.
Working and drinking.
Working and drinking.
It’s easy to get caught up in that harsh cycle,
and there is no real satisfaction in it,
no peace.
I’m thirsty for dry land, for the feel
of the world under me.
if want to trade these tired fins
for the arms and legs of a true human being.
Oh, to have opposable thumbs
and a measure of peace."
I walked away from the shore.
I can't give him the kind of help he wants,
and it's pointless to try to reason with a fish.
"Pack your bags and go to the station without them.Catch the train and leave your self behind."— Wei Wu Wei
Click here for Hardcore Zen, the site of Brad Warner
The fat candle fizzled out in the hot wax just as the fresh sunrise began to color the morning sky. Timing is an interesting thing, isn’t it? The length of a coincidence. How does one measure things that are random? James, you old white-beard, all night you sat in that chair and now it is time to get up and greet yet another day of living. What time is it? The same time as always: now.
james lee jobe
3 of the COLD MOUNTAIN poems by Han-shan
(early 9th century China)
Don’t you know the poems of Han-shan?
They’re better for you than scripture-reading.
Cut them out and paste them on a screen,
Then you can gaze at them from time to time.
-
Where’s the trail to Cold Mountain?
Cold Mountain? There’s no clear way.
Ice, in summer, is still frozen.
Bright sun shines through thick fog.
You won’t get there following me.
Your heart and mine are not the same.
If your heart was like mine,
You’d have made it, and be there!
-
Cold Mountain’s full of strange sights
Men who go there end by being scared.
Water glints and gleams in the moon,
Grasses sigh and sing in the wind.
The bare plum blooms again with snow,
Naked branches have clouds for leaves.
When it rains, the mountain shines –
In bad weather you’ll not make this climb.
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jlj
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