1-2-3

Wonderful Shakti atmosphere during the concert of Andre Rieu.
Music: Shostakovich 'Second Waltz
It's so true. Dao De Jing, Chapter 42:

Dao gives birth to One. 

One gives birth to Two. 

Two give birth to Three. 

Three give birth to ten-thousand things.

1-2-3,1-2-3,1-2-3...

How Honesty is Attained

The sage has no fixed [personal] ideas.
He regards the people's ideas as his own.
I treat those who are good with goodness,
And I also treat those who are not good with goodness.
Thus goodness is attained.

I am honest with those who are honest,
And I am also honest with those who are dishonest.
Thus honesty is attained.

---Tao Te Ching 49

All Else Is Bondage

The Doctrine is the doctrine of non-doctrine,
The Practice is the practice of non-practice,
The Method is meditation by non-meditation,
And Cultivation which is cultivation by non-cultivation.

This is the Mind of non-mind, which is wu hsin,
The Thought of non-thought, which is wu nien,
The Action of non-action, which is wu wei,
The Presence of the absence of volition,
Which is Tao.

---  From "All Else Is Bondage" by Wei Wu Wei (1895-1986).

To Bridle a Horse

This is a Taoist parable about what to do with an uncontrollable situation.

One day, an angry and unruly horse was left tied in a narrow but very busy alleyway. A crowd soon gathered, debating the best way to get around the restive beast. Many advocated attempting to simply run past it, but the alley proved too narrow, and they only received kicks for their troubles.

Several people tried to vault over the horse, but it simply reared up and trampled them mercilessly. One brave man even sought to crawl between its legs, but was nearly killed in the attempt.

After many hours, a young girl spotted Master K'ung approaching the alley from a nearby street. She yelled, "Master K'ung approaches! Surely he can help us get around the horse!"

Master K'ung gazed from the crowd to the horse, pausing briefly to consider. He then smiled slightly, and walked down to the next alley to continue on his way.

To Enter the Door - 6

From Li Daochun's (13th century) "Zhonghe ji" (The Harmony of the Center), ch. 2.

In the methods of the Way there are 3,600 gates: everyone clings to one of them as one's own root.
You should know that the tiny Opening of the Mysterious Barrier is not among those 3,600 gates.

The main point is that this Opening is the utterly mysterious and utterly wondrous Barrier. Here life and death part from one another, and here the saintly and the ordinary separate from one another. This is the secret transmitted from one Patriarch to the next one since ancient times until the present day; it is not something that can be known by means of random conjectures.

Among the students of the later generations who have not encountered a true master, some have thought that this Opening is the mouth and the nose; some that it is the point between the eyebrows; some that it is the fontanel; some that it is the cavity of the Hundred Convergences; some that it is the throat; some that it is the Spinal Handle; some that it is the Caudal Funnel; some that it is the opening of the heart; some that it is the Yellow Court; and some that it is the Cinnabar Field, the Origin of the Barrier, or the Ocean of Breath.
None of the above is the One Opening of the Mysterious Barrier. The Mysterious Barrier has no form and no image: how could it have a position? It is not form and it is not emptiness: how could it have a place? If it could be seen through its place or its position, it would be something provided with form and image, and we could not call it Mysterious Barrier.

This Opening does not not stick to the illusory body, and yet it is not separated from the illusory body. It does not stick to the illusory body because it is not a common thing provided with a form; it is not separated from the illusory body because it cannot be sought outside the body. In other words, it is neither something outside the body nor something inside the body. Therefore it can only exist in what is neither inside nor outside. There is a special celestial mechanism in this.

This Opening has a shape similar to Penglai:
outside it is small, inside it is large,
and its depth cannot be fathomed.
It is not round and it is not square;
within it, "the black and the white tally with each other,"
and darkness and light pervade one another.
Its gate is fifty feet high and four feet wide,
and has two panels:
once they open, once they close.
On its left coils a green dragon,
on its right is couched a white tiger,
above flies a vermilion sparrow,
below rests a black turtle.
Vague and indistinct! Dim and obscure!
A True Man lives inside it:
his name is Spirit of the Valley,
his appellation is Living a Long Life.
At daytime, he eats a broth of millet;
at night, he drinks the liquor of the boundless.
Sometimes he sings, clear and peaceful;
sometimes he is motionless, and keeps his mouth closed.
When he exhales, the gate of the Opening is wide open,
when he inhales, the gate of the Opening is firmly shut.

Nourishing the Pearl

From the Zhouyi cantong qi 周易參同契 (The Seal of the Unity of the Three), the earliest and the most important Taoist treatise on inner Alchemy, attributed to the master Wei Boyang.

Innerly nourish yourself,
serene and quiescent in Empty Non-Being.
Going back to the fundament conceal your light,
and innerly illuminate your body.

"Shut the openings"
and raise and strengthen the Numinous Trunk;
as the three luminaries sink into the ground,
warmly nourish the Pearl.

"Watching, you do not see it" -
it is nearby and easy to seek.

The Way to Cold Mountain

Han-shan was a legendary Chinese poet of 9th Century. His name means Cold Mountain or Cold Cliff. Both Toaists and Zen Buddhists claim Han-shan as theirs, but no one knows who he was, or when he lived and died.  As well as the Cold Mountain.

The path to Han-shan's place is laughable,
A path, but no sign of cart or horse.
Converging gorges - hard to trace their twists
Jumbled cliffs - unbelievably rugged.
A thousand grasses bend with dew,
A hill of pines hums in the wind.
And now I've lost the shortcut home,
Body asking shadow, how do you keep up?

In a tangle of cliffs, I chose a place -
Bird paths, but no trails for me.
What's beyond the yard?
White clouds clinging to vague rocks.
Now I've lived here - how many years -
Again and again, spring and winter pass.
Go tell families with silverware and cars
"What's the use of all that noise and money?"

In the mountains it's cold.
Always been cold, not just this year.
Jagged scarps forever snowed in
Woods in the dark ravines spitting mist.
Grass is still sprouting at the end of June,
Leaves begin to fall in early August.
And here I am, high on mountains,
Peering and peering, but I can't even see the sky.

I spur my horse through the wrecked town,
The wrecked town sinks my spirit.
High, low, old parapet walls
Big, small, the aging tombs.
I waggle my shadow, all alone;
Not even the crack of a shrinking coffin is heard.
I pity all those ordinary bones,
In the books of the Immortals they are nameless.

I wanted a good place to settle:
Cold Mountain would be safe.
Light wind in a hidden pine -
Listen close - the sound gets better.
Under it a gray haired man
Mumbles along reading Huang and Lao.
For ten years I havn't gone back home
I've even forgotten the way by which I came.

Men ask the way to Cold Mountain
Cold Mountain: there's no through trail.
In summer, ice doesn't melt
The rising sun blurs in swirling fog.
How did I make it?
My heart's not the same as yours.
If your heart was like mine
You'd get it and be right here.

I settled at Cold Mountain long ago,
Already it seems like years and years.
Freely drifting, I prowl the woods and streams
And linger watching things themselves.
Men don't get this far into the mountains,
White clouds gather and billow.
Thin grass does for a mattress,
The blue sky makes a good quilt.
Happy with a stone under head
Let heaven and earth go about their changes.

Clambering up the Cold Mountain path,
The Cold Mountain trail goes on and on:
The long gorge choked with scree and boulders,
The wide creek, the mist blurred grass.
The moss is slippery, though there's been no rain
The pine sings, but there's no wind.
Who can leap the word's ties
And sit with me among the white clouds?


Rough and dark - the Cold Mountain trail,
Sharp cobbles - the icy creek bank.
Yammering, chirping - always birds
Bleak, alone, not even a lone hiker.
Whip, whip - the wind slaps my face
Whirled and tumbled - snow piles on my back.
Morning after morning I don't see the sun
Year after year, not a sign of spring.

I have lived at Cold Mountain
These thirty long years.
Yesterday I called on friends and family:
More than half had gone to the Yellow Springs.
Slowly consumed, like fire down a candle;
Forever flowing, like a passing river.
Now, morning, I face my lone shadow:
Suddenly my eyes are bleared with tears.

Spring water in the green creek is clear
Moonlight on Cold Mountain is white
Silent knowledge - the spirit is enlightened of itself
Contemplate the void: this world exceeds stillness.

In my first thirty years of life
I roamed hundreds and thousands of miles.
Walked by rivers through deep green grass
Entered cities of boiling red dust.
Tried drugs, but couldn't make Immortal;
Read books and wrote poems on history.
Today I'm back at Cold Mountain:
I'll sleep by the creek and purify my ears.

I can't stand these bird songs
Now I'll go rest in my straw shack.
The cherry flowers are scarlet
The willow shoots up feathery.
Morning sun drives over blue peaks
Bright clouds wash green ponds.
Who knows that I'm out of the dusty world
Climbing the southern slope of Cold Mountain?

Cold Mountain has many hidden wonders,
People who climb here are always getting scared.
When the moon shines, water sparkles clear
When the wind blows, grass swishes and rattles.
On the bare plum, flowers of snow
On the dead stump, leaves of mist.
At the touch of rain it all turns fresh and live
At the wrong season you can't ford the creeks.

There's a naked bug at Cold Mountain
With a white body and a black head.
His hand holds two book scrolls,
One the Way and one its Power.
His shack's got no pots or oven,
He goes for a long walk with his shirt and pants askew.
But he always carries the sword of wisdom:
He means to cut down sensless craving.

Cold Mountain is a house
Without beans or walls.
The six doors left and right are open
The hall is sky blue.
The rooms all vacant and vague
The east wall beats on the west wall
At the center nothing.

Borrowers don't bother me
In the cold I build a little fire
When I'm hungry I boil up some greens.
I've got no use for the kulak
With his big barn and pasture -
He just sets up to a prison for himself.

Once in he can't get out.
Think it over -
You know it might happen to you.

If I hide out at Cold Mountain
Living off mountain plants and berries -
All my lifetime, why worry?
One follows his karma through.
Days and months slip by like water,
Time is like sparks knocked off flint.
Go ahead and let the world change -
I'm happy to sit among these cliffs.


Most T'ien-t'ai men
Don't know Han-shan
Don't know his real thought
And call it silly talk.

Once at Cold Mountain, troubles cease -
No more tangled, hung up mind.
I idly scribble poems on the rock cliff,
Taking whatever comes, like a drifting boat.

Some critic tried to put me down -
"Your poems lack the Basic Truth of Tao."
And I recall the old timers
Who were poor and didn't care.
I have to laugh at him,
He misses the point entirely,
Men like that
Ought to stick to making money.

I've lived at Cold Mountain - how many autumns.
Alone, I hum a song - utterly without regret.
Hungry, I eat one grain of Immortal medicine
Mind solid and sharp; leaning on a stone.

On top of Cold Mountain the lone round moon
Lights the whole clear cloudless sky.
Honor this priceless natural treasure
Concealed in five shadows, sunk deep in the flesh.

My home was at Cold Mountain from the start,
Rambling among the hills, far from trouble.
Gone, and a million things leave no trace
Loosed, and it flows through galaxies
A fountain of light, into the very mind -
Not a thing, and yet it appears before me:
Now I know the pearl of the Buddha nature
Know its use: a boundless perfect sphere.

When men see Han-shan
They all say he's crazy
And not much to look at -
Dressed in rags and hides.
They don't get what I say
And I don't talk their language.
All I can say to those I meet:
"Try and make it to Cold Mountain."

The Way of Heaven

 From Thien Tâo, or The Way of Heaven, by Chuang Tzu.

1. The Way of Heaven operates (unceasingly), and leaves no accumulation (of its influence) in any particular place, so that all things are brought to perfection by it; so does the Way of the Tîs operate, and all under the sky turn to them (as their directors); so also does the Way of the Sages operate, and all within the seas submit to them. Those who clearly understand (the Way of) Heaven, who are in sympathy with (that of) the sages, and familiar through the universe and in the four quarters (of the earth) with the work of the Tîs and the kings, yet act spontaneously from themselves:-- with the appearance of being ignorant they are yet entirely still.
The stillness of the sages does not belong to them as a consequence of their skilful ability; all things are not able to disturb their minds;-- it is on this account that they are still. When water is still, its clearness shows the beard and eyebrows (of him who looks into it). It is a perfect Level, and the greatest artificer takes his rule from it. Such is the clearness of still water, and how much greater is that of the human Spirit! The still mind of the sage is the mirror of heaven and earth, the glass of all things.
***
9. ... The Master said, 'The Tâo does not exhaust itself in what is greatest, nor is it ever absent from what is least; and therefore it is to be found complete and diffused in all things. How wide is its universal comprehension! How deep is its unfathomableness! The embodiment of its attributes in benevolence and righteousness is but a small result of its spirit-like (working); but it is only the perfect man who can determine this. The perfect man has (the charge of) the world;-- is not the charge great? and yet it is not sufficient to embarrass him. He wields the handle of power over the whole world, and yet it is nothing to him. His discrimination detects everything false, and no consideration of gain moves him. He penetrates to the truth of things, and can guard that which is fundamental. So it is that heaven and earth are external to him, and he views all things with indifference, and his spirit is never straitened by them. He has comprehended the Tâo, and is in harmony with its characteristics; he pushes back benevolence and righteousness (into their proper place), and deals with ceremonies and music as (simply) guests: - yes, the mind of the perfect man determines all things aright.

10. ... Thus it is that what we look at and can see is (only) the outward form and colour, and what we listen to and can hear is (only) names and sounds. Alas! that men of the world should think that form and colour, name and sound, should be sufficient to give them the real nature of the Tâ. The form and colour, the name and sound, are certainly not sufficient to convey its real nature; and so it is that 'the wise do not speak and those who do speak are not wise.' How should the world know that real nature?

We Look at It

The Formless Way
We look at it, and do not see it; it is invisible.
We listen to it, and do not hear it; it is inaudible.
We touch it, and do not feel it; it is intangible.
These three elude our inquiries, and hence merge into one.

Not by its rising, is it bright,
nor by its sinking, is it dark.
Infinite and eternal, it cannot be defined.
It returns to nothingness.
This is the form of the formless, being in non-being.
It is nebulous and elusive.

Meet it, and you do not see its beginning.
Follow it, and you do not see its end.
Stay with the ancient Way
in order to master what is present.
Knowing the primeval beginning is the essence of the Way.

---By Laozi

About Cracked Pots

Painting by David A. Leffel

Chinese parable about cracked pots.

A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full. For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.  After 2 years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself because this crack in my side causes water to leak all the way back to your house."
The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side? That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you've watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.

The Monkey and the Moon

Poem by Hakuin

The monkey is reaching
For the moon in the water.
Until death overtakes him
He'll never give up.
If he'd let go the branch and
Disappear in the deep pool,
The whole world would shine
With dazzling pureness.

 ----translation by Norman Waddell

Chinese tale

There was once a monkey happily swinging from tree to tree. He swung to a branch where there he saw an amazing sight. Below him was a pond with the glimmering image of the moon shining in the water. He was amazed by its beauty and brilliant white light. Hanging on to the branch with one paw, he used his other paw to reach for that beautiful moon. He reached and he reached, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not reach the moon. And he refused to let go of the branch to get closer to the moon. Try as he might, even until death, he will never give up trying to reach for the moon in the water and he will still hang on to his branch.
But by grace or chance, the branch he was hanging onto broke. The monkey plunged into the water. He slapped around in the water for a moment, looking for the moon. Then he looked up into the sky and - there! There it was! The monkey saw the moon shining brightly against the dark night’s sky.

Pearl

 The mysterious beauty of Pearls, their purity and rarity always attract the people. Considered as a certain divine gift, Pearls have been incorporated into the mythology of every culture and have long been attributed with having great powers.
The Persians called them children of light and believed they were the tears of God. Almost many magical stones mentioned in Arabian, Chinese, and other Eastern tales or legends actually refer to magical pearls.
In Hindu culture, pearls were associated with the Moon and were symbols of love and purity. Hindu texts say that Krishna discovered the first pearl, which he presented to his daughter on her wedding day.
Chapter 69 of Garuda Purana describes seven other types of pearls besides Oyster Pearl (Chandra-moti), viz., pearl from Conch shell (Shankh-moti), Wild Boar’s head (Varaha-moti), Elephant’s head (Gaja-moti), Cobra’s head (Naga-moti or Nagamani), Bamboo stems (Venu-moti), Fish head (Matsya-moti), and from the sky and clouds (Akash-moti or Megh-moti). Naga Mani or Cobra pearl is the rare magical item from Naga Loka. While many Cobra Pearls are literally very bright, we can suppose that its nature of effulgence does not necessarily be external, but possessive of an inner brightness that is visible intuitively and that will clearly impress beyond just the eyes.  Sri Naga Mani have some function of lighting the way in the dark, so that even the most lost can find their way out. And this Perle is maybe some of a Heavenly spark to light the way of Truth even in the darkest of circumstances.
It corresponds with other mythical creatures. Dragons, for instance, in Chinese lore, are known to guard pearls - these pearls are actually produced by them rather than acquired from some external source. This ball with its comma-mark  commonly interpreted as a symbol of yang and yin but remains nevertheless rather mysterious element of the Chinese mythology. There are traces of the importance of the ‘sacred pearl’ of wisdom, or yang energy, in early Taoism, but it is best preserved in Buddhism as the jewel in the lotus, the mani, in the formula Om mani padme hum - "Jewel that grants all desires". The mystical flaming pearl, rendered as a small red or white sphere ringed by a fiery blaze, is often viewed as a metaphor for wisdom, enlightenment and spiritual essence.

Detail of chinese gunfu, official Manchu court robe.

 Chinese Buddhists, identifying the Dragon with the Naga, also identified the ball with their cintamani or precious pearl which grants all desires. In the "Nihongi", the Empress Jingo-Kogo found in the sea "a jewel which grants all desires," apparently the same lost by the frightened Naga Maidens. She also obtained from the submarine palace of the dragon-king the ebb-jewel (kan-ja) and the flood-jewel (man-ja), by which she was able, on at least one important occasion, to control the tides; they are described in the Nihongi as about five sun long, the former white and the latter blue - the colour of the east, whence rain comes; and the moon is controller of the oceanic tides.

Pearls in Islamic tradition holds pearls in even higher regard. The Quran speaks of pearls as one of the great rewards found in Paradise, and the gem itself has become a symbol of perfection.
The Messenger of Allah said, : "I was made to enter Paradise, and in it are stones of pearls". "Verily, for the believer in Paradise there is a pavilion made of a single, hallow pearl. Its length is 60 miles. The believer has wives that he goes to, from one to the other, yet they do not see one another."
In Christianity, of the New Jerusalem, St John wrote:"The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each gate made of a single pearl. The great street of the city was of pure gold, like transparent glass” (Revelation 21: 18-21).
But at the same time this jewelry is present not only at Paradise but also in us. And "Do not give dogs what is holy, and do not throw your pearls before pigs, lest they trample them underfoot and turn to attack you."( Matthew 7:6)

So let's be careful with our most valuable gift, the precious Pearl which we cannot let be taken from us.

A Chinese story

Diego Rivera "Stone Mason"

The Stone Cutter

There was a stonecutter, who was dissatisfied with himself and with his position in life.

One day, he passed a wealthy merchant's house, and through the open gateway, saw many fine possesions and important visitors. "How powerful that merchant must be!" thought the stonecutter. He became envious, and wished that he could be like the merchant. Then he would no longer have to be a mere stonecutter.

To his great surprise, he suddenly became the merchant, enjoying more luxuries and power than he had ever dreamed of, envied and detested by those less wealthy than himself. But soon a high official passed by, carried in a sedan chair, accompanied by attendants, and escorted by soldiers beating gongs. Everyone, no matter how wealthy, has to bow low before the procession. "How powerful that official is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be a high official!".

He became the official, carried everywhere in his sedan chair, feared and hated by all around him. It was a hot summer day, and he felt very uncorfotable in the sticky sedan chair. He look up at the sun. It shined proudly in the sky, unaffected by his presence. "How powerful the sun is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be the sun!".

He became the sun, shining fiercely down on everyone, until a huge blak cloud moved between him and the earth, so that his light could no longer shine on everything below. "How powerful that storm cloud is!" he thought. "I wish that I could be that cloud!".

He became the cloud, flooding the fields and villages, shouted at by everyone. Pretty soon he found that he was being pushed around by some great force and realised that it was the wind. "How powerful the wind is!" he thought. "I wish I could be the wind!"

Then he became the wind, blowing tiles off the roofs of houses, uprooting trees, hated and feared by all below him. But soon he ran up against something that would not move, no matter how hard he tried. A huge towering stone. "How powerful that stone is!" he thought. "I wish I could be the stone!".

He became the stone, more powerful than anything else on earth. But as he stood there, he heard the sound of a hammer pounding a chisel into him, felt himself being changed. "What could be more powerful than I, the stone?" he thought. He looked down and saw far below him the figure of a stonecutter.

Taoism

Someone asked, "What am I?"
Guangfan answered, "There is nothing in the whole universe that is not you."

"He perceives the oneness of everything, does not know about duality in it". Tchuang Tzu

"The True Man In dwelling he has no shape, and in abiding he has no place. In movement he has no form, and in quiescence he has no body. He is there but looks as if he were gone, he is alive but looks as if he were dead. He comes in and out of the spaceless and has gods and demons at his orders; he sinks into the unfathomable and enters into the spaceless. He exchanges his form with what is different from him. End and beginning for him are like a ring, and nobody knows his patterns. This is how his essence and spirit can lead him to ascend to the Dao. This is where the True Man roams. As for inspiring and expiring while emitting the sounds chui and xu, exhaling the old and inhaling the new [breath], hanging like a bear and stretching like a bird, bathing like a duck and leaping like a gibbon, glaring like an owl and staring like a tiger--these are for the people who 'nourish their form', and he does not confuse his mind with them."
Huainan zi

"Following the pathway and uniting with the ultimate, it is therefore called root of Heaven and Earth." Wang Bi

"If one has a self it is impossible to achieve the great oneness."Kuo Hsiang

"In ultimate sameness you have no self; and without self from where would you get to have anything." Tchuang Tzu

"Desirous of lust and beautiful sight, one injures one’s essence and loses one’s vision."Ho Shang Gong

"Therefore the sage embraces the OneAnd becomes the model of the world."

"Can you keep the spirit and embrace the One without departing from them?"

Lao Tzu

"The ten thousand things have ten thousand different forms but in the final analysis they are one. How did they become one? Because of non-being…. Therefore in the production of the myriad things, I know its master. Although things exist in ten thousand different forms, their material forces are blended as one."Wang Bi