I think of the children who will never know, intuitively, that a flower is a plant’s way of making love, or what silence sounds like, or that trees breathe out what we breathe in.
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Not listening to my heart; believing my mother when she said, “Play dumb. Boys don’t marry smart girls.”; not dancing with Nan Zuckerman at the Sixth Grade Prom
Man with wooden leg escapes prison. He’s caught. They take his wooden leg away from him. Each day he must cross a large hill and swim a wide river to get to the field where he must work all day on one leg. This goes on for a year. At the Christmas party they give him back his leg. Now he doesn’t want it. His escape is all planned. It requires only one leg.
The action has to take place in the individual. He first has to see the deceptions. Just seeing that frees him. There are no techniques to it. He sees the ego would like to improve, but that is the deception.
The quality and depth of the exchange between us was near the deepest, most basic level of my being. Before me stood a being in which existed, in a universal sense, the most extreme opposite to everything I had known or defined as light, happiness, pleasure, tenderness, compassion, love, goodness and well-being.
I love you. It really means something, but what it means cannot be said. It is, for those of us who practice Zen, a koan, an insoluble riddle. Perhaps a particularly tricky koan.
At first, it was called Dragon Bay in derision of an old fisherman who said that a dragon had surfaced near his boat as he was coming back into the bay. He said it was a small dragon and seemingly harmless, and the people did not believe him.