Don't Miss

Book 238 Intimate Talk with the Moon: A Foggy Morning Starts a Sunny Day

By on 09/08/2017
Eng Book 238

by Sheng-yen Lu

  I was administering mo-ding between two long queues of people.
  There were really many people.
  Early one morning, I woke up and looked out the window. Wow! The fog was dense, like white milk, unable to disperse.
  In the cool morning, I threw a jacket over my shoulder and walked into the fog. Momentarily, I was swallowed by the fog.
  The fog was like delicate powders that came alive upon my breath, lightly dancing to its rhythm. As I walked through, I could feel it lightly kissing my face.
  I remembered:
  Like a dream.
  Like an illusion.
  Like a bubble.
  Like a mirage.
  Buddha Shakyamuni said, “Utilize such visualizations.”
  But, I feel “true love” is not like this. It is not the same as fog.
  Strong as a rock!
  Deep as the sea!
  Vast as the sky!
  Unwavering as the ground!
  Continuously flowing like a river!
  As I was submerged in the ocean of fog, I realized deeply the value of “true love.” It substantiated the true value of my life.
  As I was leaving the ocean of fog, I saw through the pine needles a sliver of golden light. That is the message of the sun’s appearance. After a foggy morning, is a sunny day.
  That sliver of golden light is greeting me as if from the far away you are asking about me.
  And I, pour out my soul to you.
  When two spirits meet, it is just like this:
  “Hi! How are you today?”
  “Fine! And you?”
  “Just as fine!”
  I like Zhi Xian’s poem:
   One strike wipes away knowledge,
   No more deception governing cultivation.
   The actions and appearances of well-known old ways,
   Quietly, successfully, strike up ultimate wisdom.
   Outer appearances may seem powerful,
   Yet no trace could be found.
   Communications of enlightened cultivators,
   Can be the ultimate clues for attainment.
  I say:
   “This is the fog. With one strike, strike away knowledge, untraceable and unnoticeable. Disappearing without a trace is the ultimate clue.”
  All in all, only the fog knows this depth is immeasurable.
  Write a poem for my GaiGai:
   Strolling in the thick fog
   I realized
   I am poor, owning nothing
   This happens to be Zen’s utmost clue
   It is our mutual reliance and dependency
   Our breath is the start of the clear wind
   Your essence
   My essence
   Continue as such
   One sliver of golden light
   Is the only revival
   Slowly becoming
   The levels of true love
   Start after the fog

About tbnews7