Peerless nobility is simply manifested in, through and as the four postures of sitting, standing, moving and lying down.
It’s not a matter of what is living – everything is alive, flowing, interconnected; it’s a matter of what in its time comes to the fore, of how life for a time perseveres as a particular flowing constellation then giving way:
this is the wondrous life of life-and-death . . .
You want to be whole, not divided. That wholeness, you are searching, searching, searching for it.
You see it. It is so close you can smell it, taste it. You reach out to touch it,
but just as you grasp it, it disappears:
pfft – - -
shorn of everything inside and out,
2/4 = 4/8
In this equation, what does the ‘ = ‘ sign mean? In what way does 2/4 ‘equal’ 4/8? Are they absolutely the same?
They aren’t, are they? ’2 out of 4 things’ are not the same as ’4 out of 8 things’. And yet both are fractions that signify proportionally half of a given total.
So, 2/4 is the same but different than 4/8.
Our categories of identity and difference, they have their uses. But they do not describe fluxing this. Things are precisely what they are – in context. That is, a ‘thing’ isn’t simply a clear choice of ‘this’ or ‘that’. What a thing is is ambiguous because it is not really a fixed and separate thing; it’s the fluxing presencing of all (interdependent) things somehow mysteriously centering through. And so each thing is fundamentally incomparable, uncategorizable, and ungraspable, even as it is seen, heard, smelled, tasted and touched – and cognized. It is through what it is not, and what else will be – and so of course it is even its opposite.
‘What is’ presents itself as a series of transient coherences – and, at times, as incoherence.
No category, concept, or abstraction can hold this, can hold you.
So don’t try. Even as it is those things, your reachings, you can’t be fixed.
Your tongue is not only yours. It speaks out of tradition, out of language, history and culture. You are always in some sense the music of others. But you do not need to kill tradition to be free. You have only to question it, investigate it, interpret it, argue with it, reinvent it, extend it, maybe even honor it by sticking out your tongue -
this serious play of shapes and tones, wonder piercing through.
Ever stop to ask how this is conjured?
The amazing thing is that there is no secret, no trick at all.
Just see through and through.
If you gazed full force at the source of light, don’t you know, it would run to seek cover behind the clouds, still shining, still sustaining, emanations from where (inside? out?) -
bright bright bright
The sun does not procrastinate or grumble when it is time to provide you light.
It has no problem being what it is, enacting itself through performance.
And you? What problem can you possibly have just being you?
Who is the true you?
It’s the one without the least scintilla of opposition anywhere in the vast universe.