The Red Poppy

The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.

Louise Gluck

looking at the ephemeral butterfly. looking at the ephemeral world through the holes on its wings.

an insignificant puddle, muddy water and rotting leaves - they were once beautiful, green, then yellow and now... or were they? were they beautiful or are they still ... incredibly, intensely, impossibly ... beautiful?

when i notice the sky's reflection, the water is no longer muddy. when i see the still vibrant colors, the leaves are no longer rotting.

did the puddle suddenly change its appearance? or did i open my mind to its beauty?

resting mind.
quiet after storm? calm before tempest?

Coming empty-handed,
going empty-handed –
that is human.
When you are born, where do you come from?
When you die, where do you go?
Life is like a floating cloud
which appears.
Death is like a floating cloud
which disappears.
The floating cloud itself
Originally does not exist.
Life and death, coming and going,
are also like that.
But there is one thing
which always remains clear.
It is pure and clear,
not depending on life and death.

Then what is the one
pure and clear thing?

~ancient Zen poem

" madness is what i'll talk to you about - madness burdened with memories and with eyes like everyone else's, though in my story the eyes are like those of a smiling child trembling with fear.

you'll ask: is a madman who knows he's mad really mad? or: in a mad world, isn't the madman who is aware of his madness the only sane person?....if you had to describe a madman, how would you portray him?...

....how can we talk about madness except by using the specific language of those who carry it within themselves? what if i told you that within each of us, whether in good health or bad, there is a hidden zone, a secret region that opens out onto madness? one misstep, one unfortunate blow of fate, is enough to make us slip or flounder with no hope of ever rising up again.

..."

elie wiesel "a mad desire to dance", tr. by catherine temerson ("un desir fou de danser")

as i listened to an excellent lecture, in a discussion on anger tree, i thought that I would not list the fruits of the tree as all the negative feelings. personally, when listening to an angry person, even if this person is directing his or her anger at me particularly, i feel compassion, along with other feelings [mentioned by the participants of the workshop]. just wanted to add, that compassion is one of the valued, unusual, under-appreciated responses to anger.