What tears away in leaving,
when one has grown into:
- a person?
- a place?
Can one grow into someone
(or somewhere) such that
one is fused in a way that
won't allow separation
without leaving a sacrifice?
Maybe one can't help but be
webbed into some wider world,
and can't help but leave
pieces of oneself littering the Earth.
the sharp caw of a crow triggers a monk's enlightenment. a second crow responds. a sailor doesn't look up.
Have you ever been camping?
Yes. Many times. Try to do at least a week each year.
watching the sky, as i walk up the hill, i trip on a rock.
There was a Zen master named Ikkyū who was thought by many to be cuckoo. He'd allow a toot on his very own flute. Which was unbecoming of flutists (& monks, too.)
Said a construction worker in Doha, "I don't mean to sound so bourgeois, but being paid 'd be nice, and not with a cot -n- plain rice. Pardon if I show too much chutzpah."
Tiger Riding for Beginners 