I have never worked. I am not a worker. I have simply enjoyed, enjoyed life to its limits, each moment of it.
The ancient pond
A frog jumps in
There are ripples and ripples in the ancient pond….
The small pond
The frog jumped
The circle is complete. Only the circle is perfect. Only the circle can know perfection. Pythagoras knew it, hence he became so hypnotized by circles. All those who have known, have known the circle is the only perfect thing in existence.
The village where I was born was exactly eighteen miles from the highway. It was a poor village, could not afford rich hills. It had a small pond. Frogs must have jumped in, but I was not aware of Basho then. Now I can see the point. I can see the ripples in the pond, and the silence…utter silence. That is rare on the earth.
I have stopped speaking to the masses because to speak to the crowd means to come down. Now I can only speak to the individual, to those who are close to me. And words are only gestures. Ordinarily words become things – even God becomes a thing. Thousands worship things. But God is not a thing; you cannot make an image of God. God is all things together. He is the very togetherness. He is apart from this, but in it.
The God of the philosophers is certainly dead forever. Churches, mosques, temples are empty…that God is dead. But the real God is not dead. So Nietzsche is also not true, nor Russell, nor Sartre. The real God is the real, the very essence, the togetherness.
From the smallest to the biggest,
from the meaningless
to the meaningful,
from the cry of a child
to the verses of Kabir,
from doodling to painting,
from those who know
to those who don’t know,
He is the bridging.