Vespertine snows fall this twilit eve. I fondly remember that I have forgotten. Life now is a reaction to the forces I elude. I reacquire what is necessary from my mind when I need it. Evasive I, until such. Judo said the bough that sheds the weight of accumulated snow does not break. The burdened bough moves when it must. The affront disappears in the weakness of a master’s evasive control of mass and momentum.
Zen is instantaneous. Shinto is everywhere. The gateless gate is the limitrophe between Zen and Shinto. Shinto is the peace within the biometrics of the falling snow and it’s cartographic parameters. Shinto the omniscience of mind in all things. What is Zen in this instant other than the ears that hear the snow falling into itself in the darkening cold?
Further study of Japanese and Greek seems necessary. I may also try zodiac signs. It is far too easy to clutter the ink symbology on these torn pieces of watercolor paper. The pursuit of simplicity seems to be the object of the exercise.
There are many instants in a brushstroke.
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