the river of zen
I am far away from where I began, looking for just a little pool of sanity in a crazy world full of bone-cracking pain. All those notions are long gone now. Sometimes I lay back on the raft and simply drift, watching the clouds above, and sometimes I have to paddle like mad to keep afloat in dangerous rapids. But where I am now I do not know. The landscape is unknown to me, and I have no map or compass—still I am more at ease here now, the old settled ways abandoned and forgotten, the noisy thirst for conquest and adventure quenched too.
There is a way of leaving home that is absolute. Nothing stays. The house is not only left, it is demolished, and if you could return you would not even recognize the site where it once stood, so solid and firm. I cannot tell whether I am lost, as my old friends must think, or simply abandoning every fixed destiny for the sparkle of light on open water. Until I have completely learned this river’s ways you will find me here, calmly sitting with legs crossed, lost in study of this mystery.