Cloud Patch

As in the sky all clouds disappear into sky itself:
Wherever they go, they go nowhere,
wherever they are, they are nowhere.
This is the same for thoughts in the mind:
When mind looks at mind,
the waves of conceptual thought disappear.

— Machig Labdron (1055-1149)
Tibetan yogini, woman lama (Buddhist teacher)

How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.

― Henry David Thoreau (1816 – 1861)

The greatest stories are lived, not told.

— magazine ad, 2016

My life has been the poem I would have writ
But I could not both live and utter it.

― Henry David Thoreau (1816 – 1861)

If you’re looking to find the key to the Universe,
I have some bad news and some good news.
The bad news: there is no key to the Universe.
The good news: it has been left unlocked.

— Swami Beyondananda (Steve Bhaerman b.c1945)

There is a way. No one will reveal the secret.
You must enter the door yourself. But there is no door.
In the end, there is not even a way.

— Dongsan of Haeinsa, 1936
Korean Seon (Zen) Master

Between every two pine trees there is a door leading to a new way of life.

— John Muir (1838-1914)

When the devotional soul lifts itself upward by continual meditation and prayer, an unusual light suddenly appears and snatches away the amazed mind. And so, in order that he may become a contemplative, and with his heart’s eye now cleansed, he is caught up to the sight of heavenly things, a door is opened in heaven (not corporeally but spiritually) and from it descend mellifluous gifts, and secrets are thrown open.

—Saint Richard Rolle (1290-1349) English mystic poet and monk
Hermit of Hampole, commenting on Bible verse: Revelation 4:1:
“I looked, and behold, a door was opened in heaven.”

If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite.

—William Blake (1757-1827) English mystic poet and artist

Unscrew the locks from the doors!
Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!

—Walt Whitman (1819-1892)
“Song of Myself,” Leaves of Grass

Strip off the blinders, unload the saddlebags!

— Hsueh-Tou Ch’ung-Hsien (980-1052)
Chinese Ch’an (Zen) master

This world is but a canvas for our imagination.

― Henry David Thoreau (1816 – 1861)

The little horse ambles clop-clop
across the summer moor —
I find myself in a picture.

—Matsuo Basho (1644 – 1694)

Basho’s disciple Sampu painted a picture of Basho nodding along on his little horse, completely absorbed – subjective and objective fallen away, the inside world enlarged to fill the summer moor; the summer moor filling the inside world.

—Robert Aitken Roshi (1917-2010)

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