There's something very Zen about skimming our little pond of fallen leaves.
Skimming off the leaves is like breathing ... a task that has no beginning, no end, no concept of success or failure. It is a task that is smooth and flows gently over the surface of life.
I leave the pond, and more leaves blow in. This is not a good or bad thing, it just is.
Without the leaves, I could not skim the pond. Without this work that I can do in my leisure time, my joy would diminish. I bow to the leaves that continue to fall! May my joy be in finding them, and in all that action implies -- no urgent crisis, a pause from other work, and the desire to be outside.
(This is a manmade pond with a liner in the front yard, just to toss in a splash of cold reality. No natural pond would survive during this drought, the worst one-year drought in Texas this century, according to the newspaper.)
Skimming off the leaves is like breathing ... a task that has no beginning, no end, no concept of success or failure. It is a task that is smooth and flows gently over the surface of life.
I leave the pond, and more leaves blow in. This is not a good or bad thing, it just is.
Without the leaves, I could not skim the pond. Without this work that I can do in my leisure time, my joy would diminish. I bow to the leaves that continue to fall! May my joy be in finding them, and in all that action implies -- no urgent crisis, a pause from other work, and the desire to be outside.
(This is a manmade pond with a liner in the front yard, just to toss in a splash of cold reality. No natural pond would survive during this drought, the worst one-year drought in Texas this century, according to the newspaper.)
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