Guest guest Posted May 8, 2006 Report Share Posted May 8, 2006 Students, sit earnestly in zazen, and you will realize that everything born in this world is ultimately empty, including oneself and the original face of existence. All things indeed emerge out of emptiness. The original formlessness is the " Buddha, " and all other similar terms -- Buddha-nature, Buddhahood, Buddha-mind, Awakened One, Patriarch, God -- are merely different express- ions for the same emptiness. Misunderstand this and you will end up in hell. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . One night . . . a pitiful -looking skeleton appeared and said these words: A melancholy autumn wind Blows through the world; The pampas grass waves, As we drift to the moor, Drift to the sea. What can be done With the mind of a man That should be clear But though he is dressed up in a monk's robe, Just lets life pass him by? .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Toward dawn I dozed off, and in my dream I found myself surrounded by a group of skeletons . . . . One skeleton came over to me and said: Memories Flee and Are no more. All are empty dreams Devoid of meaning. Violate the reality of things And babble about " God " and " the Buddha " And you will never find the true Way. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I liked this skeleton . . . . He saw things clearly, just as they are. I lay there with the wind in the pines whispering in my ears and the autumn moonlight dancing across my face. What is not a dream? Who will not end up as a skeleton? We appear as skeletons covered with skin -- male and female -- and lust after each other. When the breath expires, though, the skin ruptures, sex disappears, and there is no more high or low. Underneath the skin of the person we fondle and caress right now is nothing more than a set of bare bones. Think about it -- high and low, young and old, male and female, all are the same. Awaken to this one great matter and you will immediately comprehend the meaning of " unborn and undying. " If chunks of rock Can serve as a memento To the dead, A better headstone Would be a simple tea-mortar. Humans are indeed frightful beings. A single moon Bright and clear In an unclouded sky; Yet still we stumble In the world's darkness. Have a good look -- stop the breath, peel off the skin, and everybody ends up looking the same. No matter how long you live the result is not altered[even for emperors]. Cast off the notion that " I exist. " Entrust yourself to the wind-blown clouds, and do not wish to live for ever. This world Is but A fleeting dream So why by alarmed At its evanescence? .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The vagaries of life, Though painful Teach us Not to cling To this floating world. Why do people Lavish decorations On this set of bones Destined to disappear Without a trace? .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . No one really knows The nature of birth Nor the true dwelling place. We return to the source And turn to dust. Many paths lead from the foot of the mountain, But at the peak We all gaze at the Single bright moon. If at the end of our journey There is no final Resting place, Then we need not fear Losing our Way. No beginning, No end. Our mind is born and dies: The emptiness of emptiness! .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rain, hail, snow and ice: All are different, But when they fall They become the same water As the valley stream. The ways of proclaiming The Mind vary, But the same heavenly truth Can be seen In each and every one. Cover your path With the fallen pine needles So no one will be able To locate your True dwelling place. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted May 8, 2006 Report Share Posted May 8, 2006 Nisargadatta , " roberibus111 " <Roberibus111 wrote: > > Students, sit earnestly in zazen, and you will realize that > everything born in this world is ultimately empty, including oneself > and the original face of existence. All things indeed emerge out of > emptiness. The original formlessness is the " Buddha, " and all other > similar terms -- Buddha-nature, Buddhahood, Buddha-mind, Awakened > One, Patriarch, God -- are merely different express- ions for the > same emptiness. Misunderstand this and you will end up in hell. > . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . > One night . . . a pitiful -looking skeleton appeared and said these > words: > > A melancholy autumn wind > Blows through the world; > The pampas grass waves, > As we drift to the moor, > Drift to the sea. > > What can be done > With the mind of a man > That should be clear > But though he is dressed up in a monk's robe, > Just lets life pass him by? > . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . > > Toward dawn I dozed off, and in my dream I found myself surrounded by > a group of skeletons . . . . One skeleton came over to me and said: > > Memories > Flee and > Are no more. > All are empty dreams > Devoid of meaning. > > Violate the reality of things > And babble about > " God " and " the Buddha " > And you will never find > the true Way. > . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . > > I liked this skeleton . . . . He saw things clearly, just as they > are. I lay there with the wind in the pines whispering in my ears and > the autumn moonlight dancing across my face. > > What is not a dream? Who will not end up as a skeleton? We appear as > skeletons covered with skin -- male and female -- and lust after each > other. When the breath expires, though, the skin ruptures, sex > disappears, and there is no more high or low. Underneath the skin of > the person we fondle and caress right now is nothing more than a set > of bare bones. Think about it -- high and low, young and old, male > and female, all are the same. Awaken to this one great matter and you > will immediately comprehend the meaning of " unborn and undying. " > > If chunks of rock > Can serve as a memento > To the dead, > A better headstone > Would be a simple tea-mortar. > > Humans are indeed frightful beings. > A single moon > Bright and clear > In an unclouded sky; > Yet still we stumble > In the world's darkness. > > Have a good look -- stop the breath, peel off the skin, and everybody > ends up looking the same. No matter how long you live the result is > not altered[even for emperors]. Cast off the notion that " I exist. " > Entrust yourself to the wind-blown clouds, and do not wish to live > for ever. > > This world > Is but > A fleeting dream > So why by alarmed > At its evanescence? > . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . > > The vagaries of life, > Though painful > Teach us > Not to cling > To this floating world. > > Why do people > Lavish decorations > On this set of bones > Destined to disappear > Without a trace? > > . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . > > No one really knows > The nature of birth > Nor the true dwelling place. > We return to the source > And turn to dust. > > Many paths lead from the foot of the mountain, > But at the peak > We all gaze at the > Single bright moon. > > If at the end of our journey > There is no final > Resting place, > Then we need not fear > Losing our Way. > > No beginning, > No end. > Our mind > is born and dies: > The emptiness of emptiness! > . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . > > Rain, hail, snow and ice: > All are different, > But when they fall > They become the same water > As the valley stream. > > The ways of proclaiming > The Mind vary, > But the same heavenly truth > Can be seen > In each and every one. > > Cover your path > With the fallen pine needles > So no one will be able > To locate your > True dwelling place. > ** Hmmm, what did they use for mouthwash back then? ;-) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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