Showing posts from May, 2010
When birds fly in the air and fish swim in the deep,they do not do so with any conscious art. (...) if they knew this, and set their minds on doing it,they would inevitably fall down and be drowned

(from William Scott Wilson’s introduction to Chozanshi’s
The Demon’s Sermon on the Martial Arts)

When we are preoccupied with ourselves we cannot trust. We second guess with second thoughts the unspoken agreement between ourselves and circumstances. This creates a gap where the winds of doubt rush in to fill the void, resulting in turbulence.

To close the gap we must forget ourselves.
Where Am I?
You have forgotten me
Or you love someone more than me


Loneliness arises in solitude.

Like in Plato’s great myth on the origin of love, I am oriented to what I am not. Beyond the gash of separation, ever nostalgic for the two-headed beast we once were. Singularity born to be reunited. No choice but to be consumed. No cure. (Sappho says to Eros, “You burn us”). But what a blessed flame uplifting us like flowers, fragrant with longing.