The Zen disciple sits for long hours silent and motionless, with his eyes closed. Presently he enters a state of impassivity, free from all ideas and all thoughts. He departs from the self and enters the realm of nothingness. This is not the nothingness or the emptiness of the West. It is rather the reverse, a universe of the spirit in which everything communicates freely with everything, transcending bounds, limitless. … The disciple must, however, always be lord of his own thoughts, and must attain enlightenment through his own efforts. And the emphasis is less upon reason and argument than upon intuition, immediate feeling. Enlightenment comes not from teaching but through the eye awakened inwardly. Truth is in "the discarding of words", it lies "outside words". — Yasunari Kawabata
“You believe that some people have dementia and some people do not, but that is not correct. All people have dementia—some are simply in worse condition than others. After all, most people with dementia are unaware that anything is wrong with them.” ― Hiroshi Yamamoto, The Stories of Ibis
“The minotaur more than justifies the existence of the labyrinth.” — Jorge Luis Borges
“The Labyrinth of Crete, The Minotaur and Theseus“. by Aquileana
All that you see has appeared because of Love.
All shines from Love,
All pulses with Love,
All flows from Love —
No, once again, all is Love!
~ Fakhruddin ‘Iraqi
The Unicorn
Rainer Maria Rilke
The saintly hermit, midway through his prayers
stopped suddenly, and raised his eyes to witness
the unbelievable: for there before him stood
the legendary creature, startling white, that
had approached, soundlessly, pleading with his eyes.
The legs, so delicately shaped, balanced a
body wrought of finest ivory. And as
he moved, his coat shone like reflected moonlight.
High on his forehead rose the magic horn, the sign
of his uniqueness: a tower held upright
by his alert, yet gentle, timid gait.
The mouth of softest tints of rose and grey, when
opened slightly, revealed his gleaming teeth,
whiter than snow. The nostrils quivered faintly:
he sought to quench his thirst, to rest and find repose.
His eyes looked far beyond the saint’s enclosure,
reflecting vistas and events long vanished,
and closed the circle of this ancient mystic legend.
“Order is the shape upon which beauty depends.” — Pearl S. Buck
“Order is a lovely thing; on disarray it lays its wing, teaching simplicity to sing.” — Anna Branch
“They call me Troll;
Gnawer of the Moon,
Giant of the Gale-blasts,
Curse of the rain-hall,
Companion of the Sibyl,
Nightroaming hag,
Swallower of the loaf of heaven.
What is a Troll but that?”
—Skáldskaparmal: 53
“The calla lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower — suitable to any occasion. I carried them on my wedding day, and now I place them here in memory of something that has died.” ― Katharine Hepburn
Maverick Mist 