A runny nose has caught up with me in this season of fading away.
The sidewalks in Paris are paved with a golden dropping off.
One by one, every leaf is a sudden fall.
As Joshu said:
« A clay buddha does not pass through water.
A gold buddha does not pass through a furnace.
A wood buddha does not pass through fire. »
Every leaf is a sudden fall
About the Author: zenscribe
Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste.
The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.
Every leaf is on one moment falling,
one moment whirling in the air,
one moment touching the ground,
one moment laying down on the earth.
There is no un-doing of this;
Has been done for this particular leaf for ever –
nevertheless there is so much lightness in this –
no screaming – no yelling – no fear
just whirling , falling.
And there is such a kind of goodness in this.
Such a beauty –
Or do I only give it this judgement?
"The leaf hasn’t any "why"?
it falls becous it falls…"
(cfr Angelus Silesius – the rose)