Dear all,
I have moved the blog to its own URL: http://www.rebexart.com/english/blog/ on my own domain: http://www.rebexart.com
This blog will discontinue, so please check the other blog if interested.
Cheers,
Rebecca
Monday, September 7, 2009
Thursday, September 3, 2009
The Objective Beauty
"Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder." some wise-men say. Is it so? It maybe that way if you hold on to the "I": "I" like this, but "I" don't like that, and "I" find this beautiful. What a limited beauty this "I" perceives! It is the partial, and fragmented subjective beauty limited by self and perception. It is far from the complete beauty the universe has to offer.
Let the "I" dissolve away, and let it melt into where it comes from: the swirling and rushing torrent of liquid light that makes up the world, material and non-material. Let the "I" be blown away by the gust of universe, so the true and objective beauty will appear. It is the beauty that does not behold ugliness, for it is absolute. It is the ONE.
Silver snow piling up on the empty mountain. It is the beauty with no beholder.
Let the "I" dissolve away, and let it melt into where it comes from: the swirling and rushing torrent of liquid light that makes up the world, material and non-material. Let the "I" be blown away by the gust of universe, so the true and objective beauty will appear. It is the beauty that does not behold ugliness, for it is absolute. It is the ONE.
Silver snow piling up on the empty mountain. It is the beauty with no beholder.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Three Zen Stanzas
#1
Knowing there's not a single wave in the seven seas,
I hold a pen to describe Zen with sketching ease.
From the formlessness of a Bodhi tree,
There came formful teachers from the formful east.
#2
Fresh snow falling upon the forming frost;
Scarlet clouds leaning against the alley deep.
In the silver urn, and a clear bowl of jade,
The shade of winter embraces a raven's chill.
#3
Inky branches and telephone pole,
The labyrinth of morning mist low,
Car tracks 'nd foot prints on powder snow,
The homing screech of an evening crow,
Quanzhou's whip, Mazu's roar, well as Zhaozhou master's hound,
All pointing toward self nature harmonious and round.
Knowing there's not a single wave in the seven seas,
I hold a pen to describe Zen with sketching ease.
From the formlessness of a Bodhi tree,
There came formful teachers from the formful east.
#2
Fresh snow falling upon the forming frost;
Scarlet clouds leaning against the alley deep.
In the silver urn, and a clear bowl of jade,
The shade of winter embraces a raven's chill.
#3
Inky branches and telephone pole,
The labyrinth of morning mist low,
Car tracks 'nd foot prints on powder snow,
The homing screech of an evening crow,
Quanzhou's whip, Mazu's roar, well as Zhaozhou master's hound,
All pointing toward self nature harmonious and round.
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