Seeking Truth in the Mortal World: Zen in Little Stories

The mortal world is like boiling tea: foam carries obsessions, while clear steam lifts up enlightenment. A baby's cries are wrapped in memories of past lives; an old man's light sleep lets starlight slip through. Begonia blossoms at the temples and frost on a broken halberd: all are sutras written in the blood and tears of living beings. Shattered jade becomes the moon; withered branches boil the dust. A young girl's rouge falls into a lotus pond, and a wanderer's homesickness gathers into moss-like patterns. An emperor smashes the passing years; a fishing net lets an entire life slip through. Zen's mysteries are everywhere.

Spring breezes sweep through ancient temples; autumn rain seeps into embroidered doorways. A book turns, a mirror falls, and snow appears; swallows' whispers become verses of enlightenment. Love and hate are like wind chimes beneath the eaves: obsession tolls out calamity, while letting go brings emptiness and silence. Life and death are like candle wax: while burning, they illuminate the Eight Sufferings; when extinguished, they return to the great void.

This volume does not ferry anyone across. It only asks the heart. When the song ends and the people depart, the mountain wind wipes away its makeup. In half a cup of cold tea, cloud shadows and sunlight sway.