Love is a kiln, your body mind a pot.
“Tokusan used the stick.
Rinzai uttered the Katsu!.
Gutei raised his finger and
Daruma faced the wall ….. Right from the start,
there have never been fixed rules.” Zen Master Bankei
Hafiz rode to God on the name-bird Allah.
Kabir rode to wisdom on the name-tiger Ram.
Wang Bi to the Mysterious through unlearning all names.
Bassui – through listening,
the Baal Shem – inside singing,
Jesus – held a family lineage,
Do Khyetnse –in the arms of his sister,
Krishna – well his way makes the dawn blush in colors of love.
Some through volition,
some through non-doing,
some over here others over there.
You cannot know or determine the course of your spiritual journey, you can not even imagine it. The seed could never imagine what comes after breaking open. The flower would never guess the fruit. Our unfolding is only known in the living – the joyous surprise.
Love is a furnace, confusion the wet clay; don’t be to quick to judge another’s way you just show yourself to be an unfired pot. The unfired pot knows nothing of the fired pot’s condition. What emerges from the kiln’s blaze is not what went in.
Within that inferno brilliance outshines distinctions, all things are undone in brightness and only their light is known. This is like the unknowing and knowing that happen through the divine’s touch.
What awaits you after the blazing can not be guessed. Open the door, enter the fire. The colors of glaze, the patterns, even a master potter can be surprised. – t.k., Facebook (Traktung Khepa)
