As we head into darkness...
“We have the power of solar systems in our minds.” —Ben Okri
“This light has never had any place of abode. Even when buddhas appear in the world, it does not appear in the world. Even though they enter nirvana, it does not enter nirvana. When you are born, the light is not born. When you die, the light is not extinguished. It is not more in Buddhas and not less in ordinary beings. It is not lost in confusion, not awakened by enlightenment. It has no location, no appearance, no name. It is the totality of everything. It cannot be grasped, cannot be rejected, cannot be attained. While unattainable, it is in effect throughout the entire being. From the highest heaven above to the lowest hell below, it is thus completely clear, a wondrously inconceivable spiritual light.”
from Komyozo Zanmai: The Practice of the Treasury of Luminosity by Koun Ejo Zenji (1198-1282), translated by Ven. Anzan Hoshin Roshi and Yasuda Joshu Dainen Roshi
We still have a few places left — join us if you can for writing in the autumn light —
Offered anonymously from our August day of writing—
And so because light is shed, what was once is now—what is meant by that—what was was molting light and molting in light, and so ran out into the canyons—the canyons of—the canyons of the brains, and noses and eyes—the processes of the perceivers—and so what was is still shining deep inside blue canyons, deep in the blue-shadowed canyon crumbling in shadow, shedding light—light like husk, light like flesh, light unlike anything else let alone husk and flesh—light is light—and the sphere sheds light, and so what was is now—light in straight lines like deep-woods-beeches—light complete as a beech—light never completed—light in its movement exhausting its space—light exhausting space—because what was is now, light exhausts space and is not old, not young, never was, and never will be—in the crumbling canyon, on a table, a pear tips against a green eternal cup of tea—
