Sacred texts and secular events reveal their interchangeability in nature.
The texts become secular and everyday events become sacred, when we observe one and the other,
From then on, the message is no longer about the story (of the text, of the event) but about what the structure of our internal landscape says, such a story, such an event.
Thus for those whose eyes have been opened to this angle of reading, there is no longer such a thing as an archaic story or a chaotic event, but an epiphany which becomes clearer and gains in definition in the light of this angle of vision, the loose sheets of incongruous stories and the passages in the footsteps of men are transformed into a grimoire of wisdom.
©FJ April 2023
Recueils / Participations
Groupe De Pratique
Photo : May J.
Notes & Silence 
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Look at it another way.
No one thing, written or otherwise, is more sacred than another. Nor more profane.
I find that a useful thought.
J’aimeAimé par 1 personne
What you said made me think of this ‘classic » zen text..
I’m copying an English version here below but do not have time to check the quality of translation…which is OK for neither do I have the skills to do so…)
(From a website named :Dewdrop…)
Song of the Grass-Roof Hermitage
I’ve built a grass hut where there’s nothing of value.
After eating, I relax and enjoy a nap.
When it was completed, fresh weeds appeared.
Now it’s been lived in – covered by weeds.
The person in the hut lives here calmly,
Not stuck to inside, outside, or in between.
Places worldly people live, he doesn’t live.
Realms worldly people love, he doesn’t love.
Though the hut is small, it includes the entire world.
In ten square feet, an old man illumines forms and their nature.
A Great Vehicle bodhisattva trusts without doubt.
The middling or lowly can’t help wondering;
Will this hut perish or not?
Perishable or not, the original master is present,
not dwelling south or north, east or west.
Firmly based on steadiness, it can’t be surpassed.
A shining window below the green pines —
Jade palaces or vermilion towers can’t compare with it.
Just sitting with head covered, all things are at rest.
Thus, this mountain monk doesn’t understand at all.
Living here he no longer works to get free.
Who would proudly arrange seats, trying to entice guests?
Turn around the light to shine within, then just return.
The vast inconceivable source can’t be faced or turned away from.
Meet the ancestral teachers, be familiar with their instruction,
Bind grasses to build a hut, and don’t give up.
Let go of hundreds of years and relax completely.
Open your hands and walk, innocent.
Thousands of words, myriad interpretations,
Are only to free you from obstructions.
If you want to know the undying person in the hut,
Don’t separate from this skin bag here and now.
Shitou Xiqian (700-790) translated by Dan Leighton and Kaz Tanahashi
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I was not intending to afflict you it such deep ideas. ..
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« … with such deep ideas. » Autocorrupt strikes again.
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I did not notice it.
My brain was on ‘automated substitution’ mode.
Automation surely corrupts on both ends.
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