With palms together,
“The Roshi makes shitty coffee.” a poem by a Zen student and gift to me.
Sometimes our truth is simple and straightforward. Not always so. Sometimes our truth is muddy, lurking in the muck of a swamp. We don’t always have the clarity of the student poet, but we always have a direction we must follow, even if it’s through the mud.
Zen practice is the practice of taking a step with the deliberation of an arrow speeding to its target. Equivocate not, just do. So too, our truth: it’s always with us, but it’s up to us to have it see the light of day. There is a time for silence, a time for speech, and a time for action. Prajna is knowing which is which.
Gassho
“The Roshi makes shitty coffee.” a poem by a Zen student and gift to me.
Sometimes our truth is simple and straightforward. Not always so. Sometimes our truth is muddy, lurking in the muck of a swamp. We don’t always have the clarity of the student poet, but we always have a direction we must follow, even if it’s through the mud.
Zen practice is the practice of taking a step with the deliberation of an arrow speeding to its target. Equivocate not, just do. So too, our truth: it’s always with us, but it’s up to us to have it see the light of day. There is a time for silence, a time for speech, and a time for action. Prajna is knowing which is which.
Gassho
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