Zen [1/1] [Japan]
anonymous
October 24 2009, 22:58:59 UTC
Gardens are sacred.
Kiku knows this, with every barefoot pace, every breath of fresh, clear air into his lungs.
The bustle of Kyoto's streets, only a few minutes' walk away, is completely forgotten the moment he walks through the temple gates, as lotus blossoms and the brilliant azure reflection of the sky fill his vision.
Attachment brings suffering.
Breathe in, and let the world into yourself.
Breathe out, and let it go.
Thought complicates things, disguises the truth of them, and he lets it all go, lets his feet carry him automatically deeper into the sanctuary of the temple gardens.
He can feel pebbles and moss beneath his sandals, cool morning air on his skin. He can smell earth and water and life. He can hear the monks at their chanting, the birds at their singing, the rustle of grass and leaves... He can see all of these things, water and earth and birds and leaves, light and shadow and reflection, and if he looked only with his eyes, he would think all the details overwhelming, the sheer variety of life just in this garden more than his mind could truly comprehend.
But Kiku does not see with his eyes, as he does not think with his mind.
He feels, and he knows.
It is all so simple--so perfectly, beautifully simple.
Freedom.
A quiet, blissful smile on his lips, Kiku sits in the temple garden until the sun rises high in the sky, and he is and is not.
Kiku knows this, with every barefoot pace, every breath of fresh, clear air into his lungs.
The bustle of Kyoto's streets, only a few minutes' walk away, is completely forgotten the moment he walks through the temple gates, as lotus blossoms and the brilliant azure reflection of the sky fill his vision.
Attachment brings suffering.
Breathe in, and let the world into yourself.
Breathe out, and let it go.
Thought complicates things, disguises the truth of them, and he lets it all go, lets his feet carry him automatically deeper into the sanctuary of the temple gardens.
He can feel pebbles and moss beneath his sandals, cool morning air on his skin. He can smell earth and water and life. He can hear the monks at their chanting, the birds at their singing, the rustle of grass and leaves... He can see all of these things, water and earth and birds and leaves, light and shadow and reflection, and if he looked only with his eyes, he would think all the details overwhelming, the sheer variety of life just in this garden more than his mind could truly comprehend.
But Kiku does not see with his eyes, as he does not think with his mind.
He feels, and he knows.
It is all so simple--so perfectly, beautifully simple.
Freedom.
A quiet, blissful smile on his lips, Kiku sits in the temple garden until the sun rises high in the sky, and he is and is not.
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