Without desire everything is sufficient.
With seeking myriad things are impoverished.
Plain vegetables can soothe hunger.
A patched robe is enough to cover this bent old body.
Alone I hike with a deer.
Cheerfully I sing with village children.
The stream under the cliff cleanses my ears.
The pine on the mountain top fits my heart.
Translation by Kazuaki Tanahashi and Daniel Leighton in Essential Zen (1994) HarperSanFrancisco.
Passage O soul to India!
Eclaircise the myths Asiatic, the primitive
fables.
Not you alone, proud truths of the
world,
Nor you alone, ye facts of modern
science,
But myths and fables of eld, Asia's, Africa's
fables,
The far-darting beams of the spirit, the
unloos'd dreams,
The deep diving bibles and legends,
The daring plots of the poets, the elder
religions;
O you temples fairer than lilies, pour'd over
by the rising sun!
O you fables, spurning the known, eluding
the hold of the known, mounting to
heaven!
You lofty and dazzling towers, pinnacled,
red as roses, burnish'd with gold!
Towers of fables immortal, fashion'd from
mortal dreams!
You too I welcome, and fully, the same as
the rest!
You too with joy I sing.
Passage to India!
Lo, soul! seest thou not God's purpose from
the first?
The earth to be spann'd, connected by
network,
The races, neighbors, to marry and be given
in marriage,
The oceans to be cross'd, the distant
brought near,
The lands to be welded together.
A worship new I sing,
You captains, voyagers, explorers,
yours,
You engineers, you architects, machinists,
yours,
You, not for trade or transportation only,
But in God's name, and for thy sake, O
soul.
Today as in ancient times
Mei Yaochen in Poets’ Jade Splinters
it’s hard to write a simple poem.
To be undefeated lies with oneself;
Sunzi in The ART of War (孙子兵法)
to be victorious lies with the enemy.
A buddha is an idle person.
Bodhidharma; Bloodstream Sermon
He doesn’t run around after fortune and fame.
What good are such things in the end?
Not what we have, but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance.
Epicurus
Take more time, cover less ground.
Thomas Merton
The Book of Five Rings: A Classic Text on the Japanese Way of the Sword by Miyamoto Musashi
老子道德经校释（简体中文版）: 中华传世珍藏古典文库 by 王弼
Nuns fret not at their convent's narrow room;
And hermits are contented with their cells;
And students with their pensive citadels;
Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,
Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,
High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells,
Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:
In truth the prison, into which we doom
Ourselves, no prison is: and hence for me,
In sundry moods, 'twas pastime to be bound
Within the Sonnet's scanty plot of ground;
Pleased if some Souls (for such there needs must be)
Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,
Should find brief solace there, as I have found.
What’s the hardest decision you’ve ever had to make? Why?
Probably to leave a job. Because it was a move from stability, security, and respectability to… not.
[Note: I will assume this to be the colloquial usage of “pet peeves” as I have no peeves about pets whatsoever (in fact, compared to most human children I see running around, I find pets to be positively civilized.)]
With that in mind:
1.) Forcing a “favor” on another person in expectation of some kind of reciprocation (usually outsized in scale to the fake favor.)
2.) Using the Q & A section of a program to make one’s own speech (the subtext being that one — rather than the lunkhead who just presented — should have been the one invited to speak in the first place.)
3.) Acting as though one particular set of cultural norms is the only moral / ethical way to live.
Bonus response: As we are presently on a blogging platform, I should mention a blogger’s peeve: Using another’s comment section as an advertisement for one’s own content — particularly with no actual comment about the post to which one’s “comment” is attached. I realize blogging is inherently a self-centered activity, but let’s not fall full-Narcissus into it.
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honied cud of youthful thought
he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness -- to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego his mortal nature.
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these
recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless,
of cities fill'd with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself,
(for who more foolish than I, and who
more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the
objects mean, of the struggle ever
renew'd,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding
and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the
rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring --
What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here--that life exists and
identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you
may contribute a verse.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 