Stray Ball, Found Ball

The golf club hits the ball with a sharp brutality and throws it into distant space.
Brutality is not precise, also the shot is clumsy and sends the ball stranding permanently outside the course, lost in the tall grass.
There, who will come and get it ?
There, into the unmown grass of the mind, the brutality of an event has sent you

How long will you stay lost in this thick vegetation?
The blow was such that you could not understand
How or why?

Covered in these weeds, you don’t even know where you are.
Everything is dense and permanently opaque.
Over time, they will intertwine around you.

You will be part of them, you will forget everything about the freshly cut grass, the course, the flag and the hole that called you.

Sitting zazen is a memory of the departure before the clumsy strike.
The sitting practice is the child who accompanies his father, moves away a little because he is bored,

Between the woods, the irons, the green, the pars and the handicaps,
He puts his hands in the tall grass and finds the ball, green with humidity and the stagnation of months and years.
He put it in his pocket, without really knowing why, and smiled as he walked.
The practitioner sits down without really knowing what he was doing there, before sitting.

It is at the same time the clumsy club, the thrown ball, the abandoned herbs, the child, the hand, the pocket,

He is the without-why, smiling as he walks away.

©FJ May 2024
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