that stone Buddha deserves all the birdshit it getsI wave my skinny arms like a tall flower in the wind

I’d love to give you somethingbut what would help?

Hearing a crow with no mouthCry in the deepDarkness of the night,I feel a longing forMy father before he was born.

What is it that has called you so suddenly out of nothingness to enjoy for a brief while a spectacle which remains quite indifferent to you? The conditions for your existence are almost as old...

clouds very high looknot one word helped them get up there

When you paint Spring, do not paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots, but just paint Spring. To paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots is to paint willows, plums, peaches, or apricots – it is not...

born born everything is always bornthinking about it try not to

I wrote a zen koan once about love, but it didn’t make any sense. That’s how I knew I had accurately described love.

Course not, it’s a koan.

A sand trap is like a politician in its duality. It represents two opposing viewpoints. You see, it was designed to trap your ball. So it exists to have balls land in it. But it...

Every day Zuigan used to call out to himself, “Master!” and then he answered himself, “Yes, Sir!” And he added, “Awake, Awake!” and then answered, “Yes, Sir! Yes, Sir!””From now onwards, do not be deceived...

When I was walking in the mountains with the Japanese man and began to hear the water, he said, ‘What is the sound of the waterfall?’ ‘Silence,’ he finally told me.

don’t wait for the man standing in the snowto cut off his arm help him now

we’re lost where the mind can’t find usutterly lost

it isn’t that we’re alone or not alonewhose voice do you want mine? yours?