January 2009
17 posts
Luke Storms - Couched →
Zen Story
Two monks were once traveling together down a muddy road. A heavy rain was falling. Coming around the bend, they met a lovely girl in a silk kimono and sash, unable to cross the intersection.
“Come on, girl,” said the first monk. Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over the mud.
The second monk did not speak again until that night when ...
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers. Thanks to your love a certain fragrance, risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body. I love you...
“Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are ‘It might have...”
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“I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge...”
“Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve...”