Out for a Walk

When walking, look forward. It’s where you’ll go.

Doing what you can

Things you need to do are ultimately things you can do.
If you can’t do something, you can’t have needed to do it.

It’s a capability/responsibility issue:
You’re only responsible for that which you’re capable.

Beyond that is the impossible, and no one can justly hold you accountable for failure in the face of the impossible.
In the same way, no one can justly accept credit for any level of success they have in the face of the impossible.

“Doing nothing” therefore means doing what you need to do.
Doing what you need to do means doing what you can.
Doing what you can is the only way to be fulfilled, and therefore is the embodiment of Tao.

This is why it’s said that doing nothing is the way of Tao.

Making do

Make do with what you have and play the hand you’re dealt.
It is impossible to obtain all the same things in life that others will obtain.

These things are easy to hear, but take time to understand.

Use what is there and discover a way to turn it into peace of mind.
When the mind is at rest, not exhausting itself over pointless things, then it is able to achieve whatever it needs, no matter how few resources are at hand.

Peace of mind only requires that care is taken with all action, that what needs to be done gets done, and that patience is a constant presence.

This is part of what is meant by living “like a sage.”

Go home

Go home. Not to your house, but to the place that knows you. Do a little catching up. Ask the dirt what’s been going on since the last time you spoke. Listen to the wind laugh at your jokes. Sit down for a drink with the grasses and trees or cacti. Let the droning bugs lull you to sleep. Trust them. It’s their home, too.

You’ll never understand how intimately this world knows and cares for you until you pay it a little attention.

This is why so many people put their focus on other things, either manufactured things or on things that are beyond this world: They have no mind to commune with the place that continuously and without reserve gives them life.

Imperceptible greatness

The Tao is great because it is imperceptible.
It cannot be perceived because it is too simple.
It is simple because it is so great.

Thus it is circular, but has no edge.

The Tao is this:

Two haiku

Curious sparrow
Hops after
A leaf in the wind.

Large spider hunts
Across garage floor,
Calculating each step.

Postcard poem 7

.
#7
Eventually, we all feed
the trees. As we lie
with the earth, our vessels
are still needed. The grasses
take our skin, each shrub
assumes our flesh, and our bones
ascend to uphold great
branches and trunks.
This recycling is not
to be feared, but celebrated.
Brought back in the guise
of spring leaf or acorn,
our life is here again.

Postcard poem 6

#6
Always
bystanders, we hover
in the backgrounds, forgotten
when the realm of progress
intersects our lives.
They pass in smoke,
fearful grins driving
them onward, forward;
always working, hemming
our gametrails, our
influence.
We, like you, live
for more.

Postcard poem 5

.
#5
This world has eyes
employed throughout
its kingdoms, and we
have always felt
their presence.
Such awareness
will haunt us if not
acknowledged. Those among
us who do,
however, will be
the saints our great-
grandchildren
pray to.

Postcard poem 4

.
#4
This family to which we
belong is much greater
than we acknowledge.
But there are some
who remember, and their arms
have room for many,
their hearts open enough
for all. They are angels
in disguise, unafraid
to love the world,
and they are waiting
within us.

Postcard poem 3

.
#3
This field is a graveyard
for innocence, where the young
are made to bury
their unconditional
love under the gaze
of rose clouded sky.
We have all been
here, and each
blade of grass
marks a spot
we’ve said goodbye.

Postcard poems 1 and 2

#1
Come walk, the grass waits
for your feet. Since birth each
blade has been anxious, bending
only to wind. They now cushion
your slowing steps, welcome
the weary weight of your
head, and when you dream
at last, they open
you to the world.

#2
The sound comes from wind,
music as wingbeat, godsong
floating to ear, to tongue,
to fingertip; elm and feather
symphony, creek bed choir.
We hum these songs to know
this world, to see ahead—
to ensure the presence
of voice will forever
be carried on the wind.

*          *          *

I couldn’t find the pictures of these postcards on the camera, must’ve deleted them by accident.