Han Shan Letter

[Guest guest]

This letter was recently discovered, and the original is on display

at the University of California at Berkeley Art Museum, along with

other works of Han Shan.

 

 

"My dear mischievous friend Shih-Teh,

 

As I write this, I hope your health and mind are happy and well. I

have been at Cold Mountain for two seasons now without leaving. I

spend my days sitting alongside the gentle flowing water of the

mountain streams, and among the bamboo trees. I sit and when I get

hungry I eat some roots, leaves, and berries that nature is kind

enough to provide. I do sometimes miss your leftovers you are so good

at saving for me, and especially think of them when I look in the

hollow of a bamboo tube.

 

Ha Ha Ha!

 

I am an old man with an ugly lined face. I have seen many things, but

what do I know? Maybe I know nothing. Maybe I know why the rain falls

from the clouds. When the grasses are wet with morning dew, I can

hear their soft voices. I can hear the wind and the leaves rustling.

I can hear the soft steps of a mother deer and her fawn quietly

approaching. I can remember hearing these things when I was very

young. I can remember these things before I was born onto this earth.

I can see many lifetimes ahead of me and am not afraid. I may be very

old yet I do not fear leaving this existence. I only need to look at

my hand; lined and wrinkled, to smile.

 

 

I was sitting yesterday at the bank of the river. As I was sitting, a

fish flopped out of the water and lay gasping at my side. The eyes of

the fish were bulging and staring, and the body frantically flipped

and twisted. At last it managed to flop back into the water and swam

quickly away. My friend, how many times do we find ourselves gasping

for air? How many times do we feel as though we are suffocating under

the heavy blanket of society's pressures? Watching the fish today

reminded me of the life outside Cold Mountain. The hectic pace, the

crowded streets, people hurrying this way and that. I want to shout

at them, Wake up!

 

It is good to be at Cold Mountain. When the cold night wind blows, I

move inside to a cave.

 

When the clouds cry, I take refuge under the

spreading arms of the trees. My clothing is worn thin, my shoes are

wood, but I am happy!

 

When I visit you at Kuo-ch'ing,

 

the monks laugh at such a clown.

 

I laugh with them-

 

Ha Ha Ha!

 

 

 

My friend, I write these words to you on the wall of my cave. Maybe

you will see them in this life,maybe you will see them in two

lifetimes. Who knows? Someday, others, too will read my words and

remember Han Shan!"

 

 

 

178.

 

 

Cutting off all my hair was easy –

relinquishing schemes of renunciation

is a subtler path, one that even hermits

fear to tread.

 

I came a long way to forget myself,

forgetting the one who remembers.

 

Roaming this wide world from

city to shore, I must confess my

journey has been in vain.

 

The road's red dust still clings to my robes, but

merciful unbidden tears have washed my

eyes clear of distance.

 

I have always been grateful for water.

 

The eloquent moisture of a silent sky can banish

the dry arrogance of purpose, but few are

willing to open their ears to hear

that sky start speaking.

 

Bending to drink from a still mountain pool

I glimpse my reflection and laugh out loud –

 

I see a head grown wild with hair, no

longer know its owner!

 

~Mazie & b

 

 

LoveAlways.