Zazen on Ching-t'ing Mountain

The birds have vanished from the sky
Now the last cloud drains away.

We sit together, the mountain and me
until only the mountain remains.
– Li-Po (701-762)

 . . .

The ancient masters of the Way
aimed at the indiscernible
and penetrated the dark
you would never know them

I describe them with reluctance
they were careful as if crossing a river in winter
cautious as if worried about neighbors
reserved like guests
ephemeral like melting ice
simple like uncarved wood
open like a valley
and murky like puddles

but a puddle becomes clear
when it's still
and stillness becomes alive when it's roused
those who treasure this Way
don't try to be seen
not trying to be seen
they can hide and stay hidden.

Ts'ao Tao-Ch'ung (Sung Dynasty nun 960-1278) comments:

Although the ancient masters lived in the world, no one thought they were special.
              - Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching, Chapter 78 as translated by Red Pine

. . .

I had no theories to prove. I merely wanted to try living by my own hands, independent as far as possible from a system of division of labor in which the participant loses most of the pleasure of making and growing things for himself. I wanted to bring in my own fuel and smell its sweet smell as it burned in the hearth I had made. I wanted to grow my own food, catch it in the river, or forage after it. In short, I wanted to do as much as I could for myself, because I had already realized from partial experience the inexpressible joy of so doing.
            - Harlan Hubbard, Shantyboat, A River Way Of Life