I
In my room, the world is beyond my
understanding;
But when I walk I see that it consists of three or
four
hills and a cloud.
II
From my balcony, I survey the yellow air,
Reading where I have written,
"The spring is like a belle undressing."
III
The gold tree is blue,
The singer has pulled his cloak over his head.
The moon is in the folds of the cloak.
All the stream that's roaring by
Came out of a needle's eye;
Things unborn, things that are gone,
From needle's eye still goad it on.
1.) Changing my mind. This wouldn’t be noteworthy except that there seems to be a stigma attached to adults changing their minds about a thing (even in the face of new, better, or first -time information.) It’s considered “wishy-washy.”
2.) Learning. I love learning and I devote a lot of time to it. Beyond youth, a skill for it requires a capacity for what Shunryu Suzuki called “beginner’s mind” — a state a lot of people seem to run from, rather than toward.
3.) Adopting another’s point of view. Truth be told, I wouldn’t really say I’m good at this, but the bar is quite low.
4.) Operating my body.
5.) Going the places that scare me.
NOTE: I thought I was better at humility, but the fact that I’m willing to answer the question speaks to the contrary.
What ancient tower sits
Under the patch of blue...
Exposed by tearing clouds
To give a boundless view.
Well, however ancient
And however stately,
I view it with less awe,
Or even quite sedately.
For it's a babe below
The ever-spreading sky;
Its edges - broad and tall -
Exaggerate -- They lie!
Some say they miss days of wonder,
But I think I see their blunder.
Those thrilling days, they never left;
It's something of one's soul, bereft.
That fatal flaw of lacking awe
Is from not seeing, cause you saw.
The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.
overgrown: ruins
hidden from the side are
revealed from above.
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
Countless pieces of hate
Tumble through our days,
Clogging up our Flow --
Tiny bites of thought
Pit us against
Imagined adversaries...
But aren't all adversaries
Imagined adversaries?
Those who act badly against us
Are only adversaries
If we slide them into that
Mental basket.
did ancient occupants
look upon new walls and gates,
or cloud reflections?
Tiger Riding for Beginners 