mountains

As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged by a mountain stream, the great door, that does not look like a door, opens.

Like the dew on the mountain, Like the foam on the river, Like the bubble on the fountain, Thou art gone, and forever!

O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood; Land of the mountain and the flood!

Every now and again take a good look at something not made with hands-a mountain, a star, the turn of a stream. There will come to you wisdom and patience and solace and, above all, the assurance that you are not alone in the world.

Sometimes the miracle of moving mountains is God granting you the strength to keep shoveling.

An apocryphal story from the writings of Clement of Alexandria regarding John the Apostle quoted by John H. Vandenberg, Conference Report, October 1963, p.45 - p.46: ". . . about John the Apostle, handed down and preserved in memory. When, on the death of the tyrant, he (John) passed over to Ephesus from the Island of Patmos, he used to make missionary journeys also to neighboring gentile cities, in some places to appoint bishops, and in some to set in order whole churches and . . . to appoint one of those indicated by the Spirit. On his arrival then at one of the cities at no great distance, of which some even mention the name, . . . he saw a youth of stalwart frame and winning countenance, and impetuous spirit, and said to the bishop, 'I entrust to thee this youth with all earnestness, calling Christ and the Church to witness.' The bishop accepted the trust, and made all the requisite promises, and the apostle renewed his injunction and adjuration. He then returned to Ephesus, and the elder taking home with him the youth who had been entrusted to his care, maintained, cherished, and finally baptized him. After this he abandoned further care and protection of him, considering that he had affixed to him the seal of the Lord as a perfect amulet against evil. Thus prematurely neglected, the youth was corrupted by certain idle companions of his own age, who were familiar with evil, and who first led him astray by many costly banquets, and then took him out by night with them to share in their felonious proceedings, finally demanding his cooperation in some worse crime. First familiarized with guilt, and then, from the force of his character, starting aside from the straight path like some mighty steed that seizes the bit between its teeth; he rushed towards headlong ruin, and utterly abandoning the divine salvation, gathered his worst comrades around him, and became a most violent, bloodstained, and reckless bandit-chief. Not long afterwards John was recalled to the city, and after putting other things in order said, 'Come now, O bishop, restore to me the deposit which I and the Saviour entrusted to thee, with the witness of the Church over which thou dost preside.' At first the bishop in his alarm mistook the meaning of the metaphor, but the apostle said, 'I demand back the young man and the soul of the brother.' Then groaning from the depth of his heart and shedding tears, 'He is dead,' said the bishop. 'How and by what death?' 'He is dead to God! For he has turned out wicked and desperate, and, to sum up all, a brigand; and now, instead of the Church he has seized the mountain, with followers like himself.' Then the apostle, rending his robe and beating his head, with loud wailing said, 'A fine guardian of our brother's soul did I leave! Give me a horse and a guide.' Instantly, . . . he rode away . . . from the Church and arriving at the brigands' outposts, was captured without flight or resistance, but crying, 'For this I have come. Lead me to your chief.' The chief awaited him in his armour, but when he recognized John as he approached, he was struck with shame and turned to fly [flight]. But John pursued him as fast as he could, forgetful of his age, crying out, 'Why my son, dost thou fly [flee] from thine own father, unarmed, aged as he is? Pity me, . . . fear not . . . stay! believe! Christ sent me.' But he on hearing these words first stood with downcast gaze, then flung away his arms, then trembling, began to weep bitterly, and embraced the old man when he came up to him, pleading with his groans, . . . but the apostle pledging himself . . . led him back to the Church and praying for him . . . and wrestling with him in earnest fastings . . . did not depart, as they say, till he restored him to the bosom of the Church."

Our way is not soft grass, it's a mountain path with lots of rocks. But it goes upward, forward, toward the sun.

Following the Smell of Flowers As told by Taisen Deshimaru Roshi A master was walking in the mountains. When he came back, one of his disciples asked him: "Master, where do you go to walk? "In the mountain" Answered the master. The disciple insisted, "But what path did you take? What did you see?" The master answered, "I followed the smell of flowers, and I wandered with the young shoots." We must let ourselves be guided by the dharma of the Buddha and have confidence in the grass and the flowers that grow, without goal or ego, naturally and unconsciously. The master's answer flows from the spring of wisdom. True wisdom is created beyond knowledge and memory.

When faced with a mountain I WILL NOT QUIT! I will keep on striving until I climb over, find a pass through, tunnel underneath - or simply stay and turn the mountain into a gold mine, with god's help!

To live only for some future goal is shallow. It's the sides of the mountain that sustain life, not the top.