I sit by the Roshi’s chair. It is the end of the first day. He was grumpy this morning. We are trapped in word worlds he said, if only a couple students got it, made it to zero, he would exclaim success. This does not look likely. I stare at my mind mirror, encrusted algae and fairy tale palaces. Find me Europa. Perhaps then I can settle.
I circle round the stupa. I listen to the parade of words. I weep when the deer king offers himself in sacrifice. It is the end of my beginning. Who am I? I bring no intention, I am searching for it. Â
Love strikes another blow — but there remains a wall around the stupa. Transcendent effort cannot break it. What will tomorrow bring?
Don’t know. Don’t know.
sent from here.