Dogen - 1

On The Treasury of the True Dharma Eye

Midnight, No waves,
no wind, the empty boat
is flooded with moonlight.

On Non-Dependence of Mind

Coming, going, the waterbirds

don't leave a trace,
don't follow a path.

Dogen - 2
Joyful in this mountain retreat yet still feeling melancholy,
Studying the Lotus Sutra every day,
Practicing zazen singlemindedly;
What do love and hate matter
When I'm here alone,
Listening to the sound of the rain
late in this autumn evening.

Drifting pitifully in the whirlwind of birth and death,

As if wandering in a dream,
In the midst of illusion I awaken to the true path;
There is one more matter I must not neglect,
But I need not bother now,
As I listen to the sound of the evening rain
Falling on the roof of my temple retreat
In the deep grass of Fukakusa.
Dogen -3
Mountain Seclusion

I won't even stop

at the valley's brook
for fear that
my shadow
may flow into the world.

Viewing Peach Blossoms and Realizing the Way

In spring wind
peach blossoms
begin to come apart.
Doubts do not grow
branches and leaves.

On Nondependence of Mind

Water birds
going and coming
their traces disappear
but they never
forget their path.

Dogen - 4
Enlightenment is like the moon reflected on the water.
The moon does not get wet, nor is the water broken.
Although its light is wide and great,
The moon is reflected even in a puddle an inch wide.
The whole moon and the entire sky
Are reflected in one dewdrop on the grass.
Bodidharma Poems

Endless Ages
Through endless ages, the mind has never changed
It has not lived or died, come or gone, gained or lost.
It isn’t pure or tainted, good or bad, past or future.
true or false, male or female. It isn’t reserved for
monks or lay people, elders to youths, masters or
idiots, the enlightened or unenlightened.
It isn’t bound by cause and effect and doesn’t
struggle for liberation. Like space, it has no form.
You can’t own it and you can’t lose it. Mountains.
rivers or walls can’t impede it. But this mind is
ineffable and difficult to experience. It is not the
mind of the senses. So many are looking for this
mind, yet it already animates their bodies.
It is theirs, yet they don’t realize it.

A deluded Mind
~
A deluded mind is hell.
Without delusions.
the mind is the country of the Buddhas.
When the mind creates the idea of the mind.
people are deluded and in hell.
Those established on the path to Buddhahood
don’t use the mind to create the idea
of the mind and so are always
in the country of the Buddhas.
The Greatest Gift
Wordly fools search for exotic masters.
not realizing that their own mind is the master.

The greatest gift to others

is to freely relinquish yourself.

When the mind is always moving, you travel

from one hell to the next hell.

If you use your mind to try and understand reality.

you will understand neither your mind nor reality.
If you try and understand reality without using your mind.
you will understand both your mind and reality.

You may enter

Externally keep yourself away from all relationships,
and internally have no pantings in your heart;
when your mind is like unto a straight-standing wall,
you may enter into the Path.
Ryokan Poem

Ryokan Poems

Down in the village

the din of
flute and drum,
here deep in the mountain
everywhere the sound of the pines

Too Lazy to be ambitious

Too lazy to be ambitious,
I let the world take care of itself.
Ten days' worth of rice in my bag;
a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.
Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?
Listening to the night rain on my roof,
I sit comfortably, with both legs stretched out.

Slopes of Mount Kugami

Slopes
of Mount Kugami—
in the mountain's shade
a hut beneath the trees—
how many years
it's been my home?
The time comes
to take leave of it—
my thoughts wilt
like summer grasses,
I wander back and forth
like the evening star—
till that hut of mine
is hidden from sight,
till that grove of trees
can no longer be seen,
at each bend
of the long road,
at every turning,
I turn to look back
in the direction of that mountain

Though Frosts come down

Though frosts come down
night after night,
what does it matter?
they melt in the morning sun.
Though the snow falls
each passing year,
what does it matter?
with spring days it thaws.
Yet once let them settle
on a man's head,
fall and pile up,
go on piling up—
then the new year
may come and go,
but never you'll see them fade away

You do not need many things

My house is buried in the deepest recess of the forest
Every year, ivy vines grow longer than the year before.
Undisturbed by the affairs of the world I live at ease,
Woodmen’s singing rarely reaching me through the trees.
While the sun stays in the sky, I mend my torn clothes
And facing the moon, I read holy texts aloud to myself.
Let me drop a word of advice for believers of my faith.
To enjoy life’s immensity, you do not need many things.

Thich Nhat Hahn Poems

Thich Nhat Hahn

View: Thich Nhat Hanh Poems

Thich Nhat Hanh (pronounced Tick-Naught-Han) is a Vietnamese Buddhist monk. During the
war in Vietnam, he worked tirelessly for reconciliation between North and South Vietnam. His
lifelong efforts to generate peace moved Martin Luther King, Jr. to nominate him for the Nobel
Peace Prize in 1967. He lives in exile in a small community in France where he teaches, writes,
gardens, and works to help refugees worldwide. He has conducted many mindfulness retreats in
Europe and North America helping veterans, children, environmentalists, psychotherapists,
artists and many thousands of individuals seeking peace in their hearts, and in their world.
"Every day we do things, we are things that have to do with peace. If we are aware of our life...,
our way of looking at things, we will know how to make peace right in the moment, we are
alive."
Thich Nhat Hanh
Thich Nhat Hanh has been living in exile from his native Vietnam since the age of forty. In that
year of 1966, he was banned by both the non-Communist and Communist governments for his
role in undermining the violence he saw affecting his people. A Buddhist monk since the age of
sixteen, Tha^y ("teacher," as he is commonly known to followers) earned a reputation as a
respected writer, scholar, and leader. He championed a movement known as "engaged
Buddhism," which intertwined traditional meditative practices with active nonviolent civil
disobedience. This movement lay behind the establishment of the most influential center of
Buddhist studies in Saigon, the An Quang Pagoda. He also set up relief organizations to rebuild
destroyed villages, instituted the School of Youth for Social Service (a Peace Corps of sorts for
Buddhist peace workers), founded a peace magazine, and urged world leaders to use nonviolence
as a tool. Although his struggle for cooperation meant he had to relinquish a homeland, it won
him accolades around the world.
When Thich Nhat Hanh left Vietnam, he embarked on a mission to spread Buddhist thought
around the globe. In 1966, when Thây came to the United States for the first of many
humanitarian visits, the territory was not completely new to him: he had experienced American
culture before as a student at Princeton, and more recently as a professor at Columbia. The
Fellowship of Reconciliation and Cornell invited Tha^y to speak on behalf of Buddhist monks,
and he offered an enlightened view on ways to end the Vietnam conflict. He spoke on college
campuses, met with administration officials, and impressed social dignitaries. The following
year, Nobel Peace Prize winner Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., nominated Thich Nhat Hanh for the
same honor. Hanh's Buddhist delegation to the Paris peace talks resulted in accords between
North Vietnam and the United States, but his pacifist efforts did not end with the war. He also
helped organize rescue missions well into the 1970's for Vietnamese trying to escape from
political oppression. Even after the political stabilization of Vietnam, Thich Nhat Hanh has not
been allowed to return home. The government still sees him as a threat-ironic, when one
considers the subjects of his teachings: respect for life, generosity, responsible sexual behavior,
loving communication, and cultivation of a healthful life style.
Tha^y now lives in southwestern France, where he founded a retreat center twelve years ago. At
the center, Plum Village, he continues to teach, write, and garden. Plum Village houses only
thirty monks, nuns, and laypeople, but thousands from around the globe call it home.
Accommodation is readily available for short-term visitors seeking spiritual relief, for refugees
in transit, or for activists in need of inspiration. Thich Nhat Hanh gathers people of diverse
nationalities, races, religions, and sexes in order to expose them to mindfulness-taking care in the
present moment, being profoundly aware and appreciative of life.
Despite the fact that Tha^y is nearing seventy, his strength as a world leader and spiritual guide
grows. He has written more than seventy-five books of prose, poetry, and prayers. Most of his
works have been geared toward the Buddhist reader, yet his teachings appeal to a wide audience.
For at least a decade, Thich Nhat Hanh has visited the United States every other year; he draws
more and more people with each tour, Christian, Jewish, atheist, and Zen Buddhist alike. His
philosophy is not limited to preexistent religious structures, but speaks to the individual's desire
for wholeness and inner calm. In 1993, he drew a crowd of some 1,200 people at the National
Cathedral in Washington DC, led a retreat of 500 people in upstate New York, and assembled
300 people in West Virginia. His popularity in the United States inspired the mayor of Berkeley,
California, to name a day in his honor and the Mayor of New York City declared a Day of
Reconciliation during his 1993 visit. Clearly, Thich Nhat Hanh is a human link with a prophetic
past, a soft-spoken advocate of peace, Buddhist community, and the average American citizen

Looking For Each Other

I have been looking for you, World Honored One,
since I was a little child.
With my first breath, I heard your call,
and began to look for you, Blessed One.
I've walked so many perilous paths,
confronted so many dangers,
endured despair, fear, hopes, and memories.
I've trekked to the farthest regions, immense and wild,
sailed the vast oceans,
traversed the highest summits, lost among the clouds.
I've lain dead, utterly alone,
on the sands of ancient deserts.
I've held in my heart so many tears of stone.
Blessed One, I've dreamed of drinking dewdrops
that sparkle with the light of far-off galaxies.
I've left footprints on celestial mountains
and screamed from the depths of Avici Hell, exhausted, crazed with despair
because I was so hungry, so thirsty.
For millions of lifetimes,
I've longed to see you,
but didn't know where to look.
Yet, I've always felt your presence with a mysterious certainty.

I know that for thousands of lifetimes,

you and I have been one,
and the distance between us is only a flash of though.
Just yesterday while walking alone,
I saw the old path strewn with Autumn leaves,
and the brilliant moon, hanging over the gate,
suddenly appeared like the image of an old friend.
And all the stars confirmed that you were there!
All night, the rain of compassion continued to fall,
while lightning flashed through my window
and a great storm arose,
as if Earth and Sky were in battle.
Finally in me the rain stopped, the clouds parted.
The moon returned,
shining peacefully, calming Earth and Sky.
Looking into the mirror of the moon, suddenly
I saw myself,
and I saw you smiling, Blessed One.
How strange!

The moon of freedom has returned to me,

everything I thought I had lost.
From that moment on,
and in each moment that followed,
I saw that nothing had gone.
There is nothing that should be restored.
Every flower, every stone, and every leaf recognize me.
Wherever I turn, I see you smiling
the smile of no-birth and no-death.
The smile I received while looking at the mirror of the moon.
I see you sitting there, solid as Mount Meru,
calm as my own breath,
sitting as though no raging fire storm ever occurred,
sitting in complete peace and freedom.
At last I have found you, Blessed One,
and I have found myself.
There I sit.
The deep blue sky,
the snow-capped mountains painted against the horizon,
and the shining red sun sing with joy.
You, Blessed One, are my first love.
The love that is always present, always pure, and freshly new.
And I shall never need a love that will be called “last.”
You are the source of well-being flowing through numberless troubled lives,
the water from you spiritual stream always pure, as it was in the beginning.
You are the source of peace,
solidity, and inner freedom.
You are the Buddha, the Tathagata.
With my one-pointed mind
I vow to nourish your solidity and freedom in myself
so I can offer solidity and freedom to countless others,
now and forever.

Drink Your Tea

~
Drink your tea slowly and reverently,
as if it is the axis
on which the world earth revolves
- slowly, evenly, without
rushing toward the future;
Live the actual moment.
Only this moment is life.

Sometimes
Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile,
but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.

Be A Bud
Be a bud sitting quietly on the hedge.
Be a smile, one part of wondrous existence.
Stand here. There is no need to depart.
To Meditate
Poem about Meditation by Thich Nhat Hahn

To meditate does not mean to fight with a problem.

To meditate means to observe.
Your smile proves it.
It proves that you are being gentle with yourself,
that the sun of awareness is shining in you,
that you have control of your situation.
You are yourself,
and you have acquired some peace.

You Are Me
You are me and I am you.
It is obvious that we are inter-are.
You cultivate the flower in
yourself so that I will be beautiful.
I transform the garbage in myself so
that you do not have to suffer.
I support you you support me.
I am here to bring you peace
you are here to bring me joy.

A Teacher Looking For His Disciple

I have been looking for you, my child,
Since the time when rivers and mountains still lay in obscurity.
I was looking for you when you were still in a deep sleep
Although the conch had many times echoed in the ten directions.
Without leaving our ancient mountain I looked at distant lands
And recognized your steps on so many different paths.
Where are you going, my child?
There have been times when the mist has come
And enveloped the remote village but you are still
Wandering in far away lands.
I have called your name with each breath,
Confident that even though you have lost your
Way over there you will finally find a way back to me.
Sometimes I manifest myself right on the path
You are treading but you still look at me as if I were a stranger
You cannot see the connection between us in our
Former lives you cannot remember the old vow you made.
You have not recognized me
Because your mind is caught up in images concerning a distant future.
In former lifetimes you have often taken my hand
and we have enjoyed walking together.
We have sat together for a longtime at the foot of old pine trees.
We have stood side by side in silence for hours
Listening to the sound of the wind softly calling us
And looking up at the while clouds floating by.
You have picked up and given to me the firstred autumn leaf
And I have taken you through forests deep in snow.
But wherever we go we always return to our
Ancient mountain to be near to the moon and stars
To invite the big bell every morning to sound,
And help living beings to wake up.
We have sat quietly on the An Tu mountain' with the
Great Bamboo Forest Master
Alongside the frangipani trees in blossom.
We have taken boats out to sea to rescue the boat people as they drift.
We have helped Master Van Hanh design the Thang
Long capital we have built together a thatched hermitage,
And stretched out the net to rescue the nun Trac Tuyen When!
The sound of The rising tide was deafening
On the banks of The Tien Duong river.
Together we have opened the way and stepped
Into the immense space outside of space.
After many years of working to tear asunder the net of time.
We have saved up the light of shooting stars
And made a torch helping those who want to go home
After decades of wandering in distant places.
But still there have been times when the
Seeds of a vagabond in you have come back to life
you have left your teacher, your brothers and sisters
Alone you go...

I look at you with compassion

Although I know that this is not a true separation
(Because I am already in each cell of your body)
And that you may need once more to play the prodigal son.
That is why I promise I shall be there for you
Any time you are in danger.
Sometimes you have lain unconscious on the hot sands of frontier deserts.
I have manifested myself as a cloud to bring you cool shade.
Late at night the cloud became the dew
And the compassionate nectar falls drop by drop for you to drink.
Sometimes you sit in a deep abyss of darkness
Completely alienated from you true home.
I have manifested Myself as a long ladder and
Lightly thrown myself down
So that you can climb up to the area where there is light
To discover again the blue of the sky and the
Sounds of the brook and the birds.
Sometimes I recognised you in Birmingham,
In the Do Linh district or New England.
I have sometimes met you in Hang Chau, Xiamen, or Shanghai
I have sometimes found you in St. Petersburg or East Berlin.
Sometimes, though only five years old, I have
Seen you and recognized you.
Because of the seed of bodhchita, you carry in your tender heart.
Wherever I have seen you, I have always raised
My hand and made a signal to you,
Whether it be in the delta of the North, Saigon or the Thuan An Seaport.
Sometimes you were the golden full moon hanging
Over the summit of The Kim Son Mountain,
Or the little bird flying over the Dai Laoforest during a winter night.
Often I have seen you
But you have not seen me,
Though while walking in the evening mist your clothes have been soaked.
But finally you have always come home.
You have come home and sat at my feet on our ancient mountain
Listening to the birds calling and the monkeys
Screeching and the morning chanting echoing from the Buddha Hall.
You have come back to me determined not to be a vagabond any longer.
This morning the birds of the mountain joyfully welcome the bright sun.
Do you know, my child, that the white clouds
Are still floating in the vault of the sky?
Where are you now?
The ancient mountain is still there in this
Place of the present moment.
Although the white-crested wave still wants to
Go in the other direction,
Look again, you will see me in you and in every leaf and flower bud.
If you call my name, you will see me right away.
Where are you going?
The old frangipani tree offers its fragrant flowers this morning.
You and I have never really been apart. Spring has come.
The pines have put out new shining green needles
And on the edge of the forest, the wild Plum
Trees have burst into flower.
Kiss The Earth
~
Walk and touch peace every moment.
Walk and touch happiness every moment.
Each step brings a fresh breeze.
Each step makes a flower bloom.
Kiss the Earth with your feet.
Bring the Earth your love and happiness.
The Earth will be safe
when we feel safe in ourselves.

Hanshan
Hanshan

Hanshan lived in China sometime between 630 and 830 CE. Since many writers refer to Han
Shan as a late 8th Century poet, I will assume he flourished from around 750 to 800 CE. Han
Shan is one of those Taoist-Chan Sages who are reported to have enjoyed very long lives due in
part to their sheer luck, all that fresh air, gruel, pure water, long daily walks,
rugged individualism, and all those secret Taoist herbs and unusual exercises.

Han Shan was a hermit and poet of the T'ang Dynasty (618 - 906).
Red Pine tells us that political intrigue may have led the handicapped
young scholar-bureaucrat to flee the aftermath of the An Lu-shan Rebellion in 760 and retreat to
the cold mountains of far eastern China - for his life.

Han Shan was considered, when an older man, to be an eccentric Taoist, crazy saint, mountain
ascetic mystic, and wise fool. He liked to play pranks, tease, joke, and get friends laughing.

Most of Han Shan's poems were written when he lived in the rugged
southern and far eastern mountains of China in what is currently
Fujiian (Fukien) Province. He lived alone in caves and primitive
shelters in the rugged mountains in an area referred to as the
Heavenly Terrace (T'ien T'ai) Mountains. Han Shan's cave-hut was a long one day's hike from
the Kuo-ch'ing monastery in the T'ien
T'ai Mountains.
The name Han Shan means: Cold Cliff, Cold Mountain, or Cold Peak. Han Shan is known in
Japan as "Kanzan."

Little is known about all of Han Shan's life, and he is somewhat of a legendary character.

Web Source: Egreenway.com

Han Shan Poems

The Road To Cold Mountain

People ask for the road to Cold Mountain,

but no road reaches Cold Mountain.
Summer sky-still ice won't melt.
The sun comes out but gets obscured by mist.
Imitating me, where does that get you?
My mind isn't like yours.
When your mind is like mine
you can enter here.

- Hanshan

Here's A Message for the Faithful

Here's a message for the faithful

what is it that you cherish
to find the Way to see your nature
your nature is naturally so
what Heaven bestows is perfect
looking for proof leads you astray
leaving the trunk to search among the twigs
all you get is stupid
Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,
The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,
The wide creek, the mist-blurred grass.
The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain
The pine sings, but there's no wind.
Who can leap the world's ties
And sit with me among the white clouds?
tr. Gary Snyder

Chinese text
Born Thirty Years Ago

Thirty years ago I was born into the world.

A thousand, ten thousand miles I've roamed.
By rivers where the green grass grows thick,
Beyond the border where the red sands fly.
I brewed potions in a vain search for life everlasting,
I read books, I sang songs of history,
And today I've come home to Cold Mountain
To pillow my head on the stream and wash my ears.
tr. Gary Synder

Chinese text
My Dwelling at TianTai

I divined and chose a distant place to dwell-

T'ien-t'ai: what more is there to say?
Monkeys cry where valley mists are cold;
My grass gate blends with the color of the crags.
I pick leaves to thatch a hut among the pines,
Scoop out a pond and lead a runnel from the spring.
By now I am used to doing without the world.
Picking ferns, I pass the years that are left.
tr. Burton Watson
Chinese text
035 On the HanShan Path

The trail to Cold Mountain is faint

the banks of Cold Stream are a jungle
birds constantly chatter away
I hear no sould of people
gusts of wind lash my face
flurries of snow bury my body
day after day no sun
year after year no spring
tr. Red Pine

Chinese text
005 My Heart is Like Autumn Moon

The trail to Cold Mountain is faint

the banks of Cold Stream are a jungle
birds constantly chatter away
I hear no sould of people
gusts of wind lash my face
flurries of snow bury my body
day after day no sun
year after year no spring

Buddhist Poets
 " as a flower blown out by the wind
goes to rest and cannot be defined
so the wise man freed from individuality
goes to rest and cannot be defined.
gone beyond all images-
gone beyond the power of words "

LORD BUDDHA

All that we are is the result of what we have thought.

If a man speaks or acts with an evil thought, pain follows him.
If a man speaks or acts with a pure thought,
happiness follows him, like a shadow that never leaves him.

The Song on Reaching the Mountain Peak

Hearken, my sons! If you want
To climb the mountain peak
You should hold the Self-mind's light,
Tie it with a great "Knot,"
And catch it with a firm "Hook."
If you practice thus
You can climb the mountain peak
To enjoy the view.
Come, you gifted men and women,
Drink the brew of Experience!
Come "inside" to enjoy the scene --
See it and enjoy it to the full!
The Incapable remain outside;
Those who cannot drink pure
Beer may quaff small beer.
He who cannot strive for Bodhi,
Should strive for superior birth.
Upon this earth
Upon this earth, the land of the Victorious Ones,
Once lived a Saint, known as the second Buddha;
His fame was heard in all the Ten Directions.
To Him, the Jewel a'top the eternal Banner of Dharma
I pay homage and give offerings.
Is He not the holy Master, the great Midripa?
Upon the Lotus-seat of Midripa
My Father Guru places his reliance;
He drinks heavenly nectar
With the supreme view of Mahamudra;
He has realized the innate Truth in utter freedom.
He is the supreme one, Jetsun Marpa.
Undefiled by faults or vices,
He is the Transformation Body of Buddha.
He says: "Before Enlightenment,
All things in the outer world
Are deceptive and confusing;
Clinging to outer forms,
One is ever thus entangled.
After Enlightenment, one sees all things and objects
As but magic shadow-plays,
And all objective things
Become his helpful friends.
In the uncreated Dharmakaya all are pure;
Nothing has ever manifested
In the Realm of Ultimate Truth."
He says: "Before Enlightenment,
The ever-running Mind-consciousness within
Is shut in a confusing blindness
Which is the source of passions, actions, and desires.
After Enlightenment, it becomes the
Self-illuminating Wisdom --
All merits and virtues spring from it.
In Ultimate Truth there is not even Wisdom;
Here one enters the Realm where Dharma is exhausted."
The coproreal form
Is built of the Four Elements;
Before one attains Enlightenment,
 All illness and all suffering come from it.
After Enlightenment, it becomes the two-in-one Body
Of Buddha clear as the cloudless firmament!
Thus rooted out are the base Samsaric clingings.
In Absolute Truth there is no body.
The malignant male and femal demons
Who create myriad troubles and obstructions,
Seem real before one has Enlightenment;
But when one realizes their nature truly,
They become Protectors of the Dharma,
And by their help and freely-given assistance
One attains to numerous accomplishments.
In Ultimate Truth there are no Buddhas and no demons;
One enters here the Realm where Dharma is exhausted.
Among all Vehicles, this ultimate teaching
Is found only in the Tantras.
It says in the Highest Division of the Tantra:
"When the various elements gather in the Nadis,
One sees the demon-forms appear.
If one knows not that they are but mind-created
Visions, and deems them to be real,
One is indeed most foolish and most stupid."
In time past, wrapped up in clinging blindness,
I lingered in the den of confusion,
Deeming benevolent deities and malignant
Demons to be real and subsistent.
Now, through the Holy One's grace and blessing
I realize that both Samsara and Nirvana
Are neither existent nor non-existent;
And I see all forms as Mahamudra.
Realizing the groundless nature of ignorance,
My former awareness, clouded and unstable
Like reflections of the moon in rippling water,
Becomes transparent, clear as shining crystal.
Its sun-like brilliance is free from obscuring clouds,
Its light transcends all forms of blindness,
Ignorance and confusion thus vanish without trace.
This is the truth I have experienced within.
Again, the foolish concept "demons" iself
Is groundless, void, and yet illuminating!
Oh, this indeed is marvelous and wonderful!
- Milarepa
I Have forgotten
May I be far removed from contending creeds and dogmas.
Ever since my Lord's grace entered my mind,
My mind has never strayed to seek such distractions.
Accustomed long to contemplating love and compassion,
I have forgotten all difference between myself and others.
Accustomed long to meditating on my Guru as enhaloed over my head,
I have forgotten all those who rule by power and prestige.
Accustomed long to meditating on my guardian deities as inseparable from myself,
I have forgotten the lowly fleshly form.
Accustomed long to meditating on the secret whispered truths,
I have forgotten all that is said in written or printed books.
Accustomed, as I have been, to the study of the eternal Truth,
I've lost all knowledge of ignorance.
Accustomed, as I've been, to contemplating both nirvana and samsara as inherent in myself,
I have forgotten to think of hope and fear.
Accustomed, as I've been, to meditating on this life and the next as one,
I have forgotten the dread of birth and death.
Accustomed long to studying, by myself, my own experiences,
I have forgotten the need to seek the opinions of friends and brethren.
Accustomed long to applying each new experience to my own spiritual growth,
I have forgotten all creeds and dogmas.
Accustomed long to meditating on the Unborn, the Indestructible, the Unchanging,
I have forgotten all definitions of this or that particular goal.
Accustomed long to meditating on all visible phenomena as the Dharmakaya,
I have forgotten all meditations on what is produced by the mind.
Accustomed long to keeping my mind in the uncreated state of freedom,
I have forgotten all conventions and artificialities.
Accustomed long to humbleness, of body and mind,
I have forgotten the pride and haughty manner of the mighty.
Accustomed long to regarding my fleshly body as my hermitage,
I have forgotten the ease and comfort of retreats and monasteries.
Accustomed long to knowing the meaning of the Wordless,
I have forgotten the way to trace the roots of verbs, and the
sources of words and phrases.
You, 0 learned one, may trace out these things in your books