The breath

Monks

You can be a monk and still harbour seed thoughts of anger
Towards someone else's point of view.
Sectarianism is an obstacle to peace.
He who thinks breath creates
Because breath carries thought around the world.
Paying attention to the breath transforms
Mental errors.
Monk, take heed, for your thoughts, words and deeds today
Sending clouds into tomorrow's sky.
The real challenge is to clarify our own conscience,
To become one with the current of the clear spirit within us.
We can then act in the present rather than reacting to the issues of the past.
All is spirit and spirit is One.
Everyone repeats this all day long.
But if everything is spirit, then spirit is everything.
So we have to look after everything,
The slightest object, the slightest gesture towards objects.
Don't be brutal, rash, careless or hesitant.
Is the inanimate spirit? Is stone a spirit?
What's the point of categorising, since everything is the great Spirit :
These unfortunate shoes that carry me,
The clothes that clothe me and
The razor that clears away flowery illusions.
You can be a monk nurturing seed thoughts of carelessness and inattention.
You can be a monk walking freely in the sacred field of the One Spirit.

Harmony

The idea of weakness is an illusion.
The idea that "we can't" is an illusion.
Humans have the power to restore their purity
To streams, rivers and oceans.
The river of the spirit flows towards its source,
It takes no other path.
Everything comes from the source
And at no point did we separate from her.
This source contains all waters, all existences.
Monks, don't invent harmony outside nature.
The harmony of the world is beauty, fracas and suppleness,
Hardship, happiness, pain, illness and death.
But we prefer to invent harmonies
Which are merely projections of a selfish, purely human idealism.
The most beautiful harmony is the acceptance of What Is.
As soon as we look for harmony outside of What Is, we find disharmony.
Don't be idealistic, don't hope and don't regret.
When the river flows, it doesn't hope to reach the sea
And I don't regret having been a stream.
When the river flows, it is a source and an ocean.
It is everything at once.
In reality, it comes from nowhere and goes nowhere.
It flows into a whole without beginning or end.
And since the nature of water is everywhere, it is neither born nor dies.
So it is with our spirit.
The nature of the spirit is everywhere, don't look at the end of your nose.

The world around

Even if the men have left,
Caught in the net of material shapes and colours
Or without opening their hearts,
The old pine trees, animated by the same breath, remain faithful to me.
Loneliness only concerns humans.
All around me, people enjoy my presence as much as I enjoy theirs.
There is never any misunderstanding with the spirits of nature.
They are said to be pure because they are non-dualistic and non-conflicting.
And driven by one and the same heart.
With human beings, there are often two words.
In my solitude, I carry the seasons and the four elements.
There's nothing missing, apart from the occasional one,
The presence of congeners with whom to exchange some mundanity.
I plough my mind with the claws of the clouds
But don't dig up the earth.
True meditation has no subject on which to meditate.
Just sitting is enough.
The Buddhas and Patriarchs did not mention it.
My ancestors include Oneidas or Onneiouts, one of the six Haudeno Saunee (Iroquoian) nations.
The Ywahoo teachings date back over 133,000 years.
This practice clarified the body's channels
In order to experience the true nature of our own spirit
And recognise the subtle relationship we have with the world around us.
To understand the nature of our spirit is to understand the gifts of life.
Not one of us lives or acts alone in this world
And anyone who thinks otherwise only encounters suffering.
Seeing beauty in those around us,
Recognising the spark of the spirit in those we meet,
It's a grace for everyone and for ourselves too
Because we let the light dance powerfully in our own consciousness.

Clouds in bloom

A spirit is a place where there is nowhere to dwell,
A house is a place where 10,000 dreams dance.
My life is like a wild flower
Where lonely and poor hearts gather.
The gift of old age is the rich, deep colours of autumn.
Those who approach it without fear receive its eternal pollen.
To be seated on the earth is to be capable of awakened and intimate thought.
The less we fuss, the more the rainbow of wisdom crowns us.
My thoughts are inscribed in the shape of the clouds
But my words are yet to come.
The richest man is the one who can give the most.
We pay tribute to the earth and the sky by giving
Because it's better to have a little of what's good
What it means to own a lot of what isn't.
The most fragile flowers find their way and grow.
Among the hardest stones.
The moonlight leaves no mark on the forest.
We too will pass quietly...