Even if, proud of our understanding and richly endowed with realizations, we obtain special states of insight, attain the truth, clarify the mind, manifest a zeal that pierces the sky, and ramble through those remote spheres that are entered with the head; we have almost completely lost the vigorous path of getting the body out.

Même si, fiers de notre compréhension et comblés par l’éveil, nous accédons à des états spéciaux, atteignons la vérité, purifions l’esprit et manifestons un zèle sans limites, nous errons toujours dans ces sphères lointaines que seul l’intellect peut pénétrer et nous aurons perdu le chemin dynamique qui permet de sortir le corps.

I wrote this a few years ago:

Only ignorant non monks may say: Sawaki is moving the brush.

No brush, no Sawaki. Just the endless activity of suchness.

As your eyes meets the kakejiku, it comes to life and light.

As your eyes meet the paper, they move the original brush.

You sit and everything sits with you.

What is real? We haven't the faintest idea. In "no idea" is reality.

No big deal. No monk or non monk.

What is the religion of trees? the prayer of twigs?*

Water jumps in frogs, stone women make love at dawn,

your eye, Shobogenzo, turns the whole universe *like a flower.

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