In the Tao te Ching the music of earth is said to be produced by the spontaneity of the wind. The music of heaven is the music of silence. The Dragon traverses between heaven and earth as freely as the wind and clouds it rides, not needing to ask permission or explain.
A few days ago on a meditation retreat I was walking along the path with a friend who suddenly yelled, “D, you just stepped on a snake!” I jumped back, saw a small rattlesnake coiling up into strike position
I had had a turbulent couple of months dealing with changes in important relationships and was feeling a little road weary. I was holding fast to whatever I could, fearful of more change. Never a healthy stance, but there you have it.
Next on my calendar was a float in an isolation tank. Not something I do every day. Or ever, really. Let me assure you, it’s dark in there.
As part of my own exploration, as I’m writing this, the question comes to me is: I wonder what Zhuangzi’s reaction would have been if he had dreamt that he was a dung beetle?
Dreams are a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma, like koans, like us. Inquiring into the dream that we are, provides the opportunity to appreciate that even when we awaken from our dream
It occurred to me that if people unable to attend the retreat were hanging out with the same koan as we were in the retreat, the benefits might be amplified.
Urban Retreat Sept 14th- This nursery rhyme was in harmony with the first line of the Tao te Ching, which says, “The Tao that can be named is not the eternal Tao.” We name the world and change our experience of it, we name ourselves and do the same. What happens when we have the freedom to not name?
This quote from the Diamond Sutra could easily be interpreted as, ‘If it is all a dream, then nothing really matters.’ What feels closer to what is true is: If it is all a dream, then everything matters.