Zen is just settling the great matter once & for all & ever. You settle it, you wash your hands of it, you cut off the tongues of everybody on earth -- zinging blue dragonflies. The women standing around in dark shawls. Ladling water from the well-bucket to wash the feet of the corpse. In the ringing dusk, tears & lamentations. A crimson stucco wall faded to pink. In the old days they just covered the dead with sagebrush and left them in the open country for the voracious birds of the infinite clear sky. Vast yellow dust emptiness, the Great Hall, a lamp before the altar, a glistening gold statue, a gold Orpheus mask to cover your serene features, a boat in the shimmering mist on Lake Garda . . . wonder of wonders, dream of dreams. wild geese flying over the still blue lake, empty clouds on the cold mountains.
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