The most precious gift you can give to the one you love is your true presence. What must we do to really be there?
True Love, Thich Nhat Hanh
at a shrine…
a shrine in summer
And who are thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form’d, altogether changed, and
Yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;
And forever by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
And make pure and beautify it;
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfillment, wandering,
Reck’d or unreck’d, duly with love returns.)
The Voice of the Rain, Walt Whitman
What through youth gave
Love and roses,
Age still leaves us friends
Walking through a mountain town, I loved the constant sound of running water. It was hypnotic, and so I found myself contrasting my life and that of the water’s. Seeing it as a whole or continuum, the fresh running water raised questions about my own perceptions…or rather, misperceptions.
That people are unknowing does not mean they are unknowing like cows or goats. Even ignorant people look for a pathway to reality. But searching for it, they often misunderstand what they encounter. They pursue names and categories instead of going beyond the name to that which is real.