Maybe the birds chirping this morning, it's warm already 67 only 10AM, and maybe I don't feel like death warmed over for the first time in seems like forever? But the church bells ring so beautifully here just far enough away with the windows open so as to be charming and not annoying and they reverberate with resonance this morning reminding me to stay in the flow at that heart-of-all-things, to feel how it's like a dance and I'm the dancer who just feels exactly where all the marks are set so when it's time to fight, I throw the punch; when it's time to acquiesce, I lay my sword down upon the ground on it's quiet side and when it's time for metamorphosis, I find some safe cocoon to crawl into and give myself over to its nothingness that is not nothing at all but rather is nothing.
Now, I see, the Garden's Gate swings wide open to Spring and know that it is time to dance on out of the garden and out into the blossoming new world at large.
Zen Poem
(author unrecalled??? paraphrase from memory but close, I think)
(author unrecalled??? paraphrase from memory but close, I think)
Who would dare approach the Lion's Den?
Surely, only a Zen-Man through and through!
I greet the spring breeze at the garden's gate
Surely, only a Zen-Man through and through!
I greet the spring breeze at the garden's gate
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