Jan 23 2015
The road runs into pine sighs;
From far off, it's even stranger.
Mountain light and colors in the water,
Tufted, raggedy.
On a crag in the middle,
In zazen, all alone,
One monk,
Sits facing the cassia bough:
Already old, long ago.
— Chiao Jan (730-799)
Jan 22 2015
Clear dawn enters the ancient temple.
First sun brightens the lofty grove.
Winding paths lead off to secret places.
Ch'an chamber: flowers deep among trees.
In mountain light, singing joy is bird-nature.
Pool shadows: empty, the hearts of men.
All sounds here fall to silence.
All that remains: the bell-stone's tone.
— Ch'ang Chien (708-765)
Jan 21 2015
You want to be a mountain-dweller,
No need to trek to India to find one.
I've a thousand peaks
To pick from right here on the lake.
Fragrant grasses and white clouds
Hold me here.
What holds you there,
— Chiao Jan (730-799)
Jan 20 2015
The true follower of Tao does not grasp at the Buddha, nor at bodhisattvas, nor at arhats, nor at the exceeding glories in the three realms. Attaining transcendental independence and untrammeled freedom, the true follower adheres to nothing.

Even if the universe should collapse, their faith would not falter. Should all the Buddhas from the ten heavens appear before them, there would not be the slightest elation. Nor would they experience the slightest fear, should all the demons come out. How can one be this calm?
— Lin chi
Jan 19 2015

From bamboo forest temple,
I faintly hear the evening bell.
Twilight touches the brim of your hat
As you turn and enter dark blue hills.

— Lui Ch'ang-ch'ing (710-785)
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