The Same New Wind

Shall we go for a stroll
the path before us curated
as much as possible, natural
at ease with itself

As we walk, the stones ask our feet to take care
and we remind each other
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places. ^[1]

The same new wind blows
the same new leaves
in a manner so familiar we settle into watching
the newness emerge

We continue on
and after a while

Before we go further
we deicde
over here, off to the side, a place to sit
statio
We acknowledge to each other, and to our bodies
that in the space of transition and threshold
is a sacred dimension
full of possibility. ^[2]

I speak to you of my desire
to acknowledge the set apart-ness of each moment
to be fully present to each moment
as within a flow of sacred moments

You speak to me of your desire
to acknowledge the set apart-ness of the threshold between moments
by being fully present to the pause between moments
as within a flow of sacred pauses

We have reached the part of the park with a tower
We climb the tower and look out over the city
We see all of it at once, and none of it at all
The city’s place-ness and this-ness, limited and expanded by
our very own place-ness and this-ness
of paths and benches, of walking and talking
of now seeing
from the flow, from here, from this

On the way back down we reflect
“How to live a life” scrawled out on paper
seals its own insufficiency in the act of scrawling

And yet—you offer
the paper and the act of scrawling
in their betweenness
are life
The welling up of the message
of the two-fold’s unconcealment
and that which
uniquely in each unrepeatable moment
comes to radiance
in the fullness of its grace ^[3]

We reach the train station
As a departing thought we remind ourselves that
by drawing attention to the sacredness
we are in danger of reconcealing the unconcealment
And, we affirm, to draw one’s attention
is to scrawl
from the betweenness
of the moment
and the pause

創流|日月 Series ^[4]

This work is an exploration of how we reveal ourselves through moments in time, how what we reveal is also a revelation about the world, and what happens when we gather together those moments in time. What do layers of surrender reveal when nothing is perfect, nothing is finished, and nothing lasts? What patterns emerge when time is not a barrier?

創流|日月 04_20