Today, Halloween, we conclude our Halloween theme on Death and Dying from the Taoist perspective with three of the most revered Daoist sages of ancient times: Laozi, Liezi and Zhuangzi.

“We go from birth to death. Three out of ten follow life. Three out of ten follow death. People who rush from birth to death are also three out of ten. Why is that so? Because they want to make too much of life.” — Laozi

“The ancients said that for persons who cultivated body and mind, and who are virtuous and honorable, death is an experience of liberation, a long-awaited rest from a lifetime of labors. Death helps the unscrupulous person to put an end to the misery of desire. Death, then, for everyone is a kind of homecoming. That is why the ancient sages speak of a dying person as a person who is ‘going home.” — Liezi

“The True Man of ancient times knew nothing of loving life, knew nothing of hating death. He emerged without delight; he went back in without a fuss. He came briskly, he went briskly, and that was all. He didn’t forget where he began; he didn’t try to find out where he would end. He received something and took pleasure in it; he forgot about it and handed it back again.” — Zhuangzi

Have a happy and safe Halloween, everyone. And don’t stuff yourself with goodies, so you can still enjoy your practice.


Today we have another Chinese poem on Death and Dying in the form of a dream, but a very unusual dream, in the way the poet’s lover comes into the dream.

Yuan Zhen: Tonight my love who died long ago came into my dream

“I dreamt I climbed to a high, high plain;
and on the plain I found a deep well.
My throat was dry with climbing and I longed to drink,
and my eyes were eager to look into the cool shaft.
I walked round it, I looked right down;
I saw my image mirrored on the face of the pool.
An earthen pitcher was sinking into the black depths;
there was no rope to pull it to the well-head.
I was strangely troubled lest the pitcher should be lost,
and started wildly running to look for help.
From village to village I scoured that high plain;
The men were gone; fierce dogs snarled.
I came back and walked weeping round the well;
faster and faster the blinding tears flowed–
till my own sobbing woke me up;
my room was silent, no one in the house stirred.
The flame of my candle flickered with a green smoke;
the tears I shed glittered in the candle-light.
A bell sounded; I knew it was the midnight chime;
I sat up in bed and tried to arrange my thoughts:
The plain in my dream was the graveyard at Ch’ang-an,
Those hundred acres of untilled land.
The soil heavy and the mounds heaped high;
and the dead below them laid in deep troughs.
Deep are the troughs, yet sometimes dead men
find their way to the world above the grave.
And tonight my love who died long ago
came into my dream as the pitcher sunk in the well.
That was why the tears suddenly streamed from my eyes,
streamed from my eyes and fell on the collar of my dress.

–Yuan Zhen 元稹 (779-831) Translated by Arthur Waley, Chinese Poems (pub. 1946)

Yes, indeed, sometimes dead men find their way to the world above the grave. That’s why we have Halloween. So, enjoy Mischief Night without getting into miuch mischief and see you Monday on Halloween


Today we have another poem on Death and Dying by the famous Chinese poet Bai Juyi. This one is a remembrance to his departed friends.

Separation. Bai Juyi remembers his friends

“Yesterday I heard that such-a-one was gone;
this morning they tell me that so-and-so is dead.
Of friends and acquaintance more than two-thirds
have suffered change and passed to the Land of Ghosts.
Those that are gone I shall not see again;
they, alas, are for ever finished and done.
Those that are left, — where are they now?
They are all scattered, –a thousand miles away.
Those I have known and loved through all my life,
on the fingers of my hand– how many do I count?
Only the prefects of T’ung, Kuo and Li
and Feng Province– just those four.
Longing for each other we are all grown gray;
through the Fleeting World rolled like a wave in the stream.
Alas that the feasts and frolics of old days
have withered and vanished, bringing us to this!
When shall we meet and drink a cup of wine
and laughing gaze into each other’s eyes?

–Bai Juyi [白居易] (772-846), translated by Arthur Waley (1889-1966)

So these will be the good old days down the road. Enjoy them now while you can and enjoy your practice, everyone.


Continuing with our Halloween theme on Death and Dying from a Daoist perspective, here is a short but nevertheless bittersweet poem from Zang Zhi (aka Tsang Chih)…

Zang Zhi: Dreaming of a Dead Lady

“I heard at night your long sighs
and knew that you were thinking of me.”
As she spoke, the doors of Heaven opened
and our souls conversed and I saw her face.
She set me a pillow to rest on
and she brought me meat and drink.

I stood beside her where she lay,
and suddenly woke and she was not there:
and none knew how my soul was torn,
how the tears fell surging over my breast.”
– Zhang Zhi (died 454) translated by Arthur Waley

What is so significant about the poem is the way our subconscious works to recreate such detailed images in dreams that they seem so real that, in the case of loved ones as this, the images bring us to tears when we awaken and realize the loved one has vanished with the dream. Enjoy your practice, everyone.


In keeping with this October Halloween theme of Death and Dying with a Taoist perspective, one of the saddest moments in life is when a young person dies. Bai Juyi, one of China’s greatest poets, wrote this poem about a young daughter’s death.

Bai Juyi: This parting is for all time

“Who knew that when I was sick,
you would be the one who suffered?
Lying in bed, suddenly I was startled from my pillow,
Leaning on the others, I wept in front of your lamp.
It turns out to be hard to have a daughter–
I have no son, how can I avoid grief?
The sickness came, took only ten days,
even though we’d raised you for three years.
Miserable tears, crying voices, everything hurt painfully.
Your old clothes lonely on the hanger, the medicine at your bedside.
I sent you through the deep village lanes,
I saw the tiny grave in the field.
Don’t tell me it’s three li away–
this separation is till the end of days.”
–Bai Juyi 白居易 (772-846)

On that note, I hope you take extra good care of yourselves and your families, particularly your children. Take care and enjoy your practice, everyone.


Today’s selection on Death and Dying from the Daoist perspective is from a woman poet of anciet China. Li Qingzhao (1084- about 1151) wrote this famous poem when she lost her beloved husband. It’s entitled “Seeking, seeking.”

Li Qingzhao: Seeking, seeking

“Seeking and seeking, searching and searching,
cold, cold, clear, clear,
dismal, dismal, wretched, wretched, mourning, mourning.
Suddenly hot, then cold at times,
so hard to bear.
Two or three cups of watery wine–
how can that help me bear the rushing evening wind?
The wild geese are passing
my heart is breaking
we were so close since long ago.

All over the ground, heaps of yellow flowers
wan, withered, outworn
as they are now who will pick them?
Watching at the window
alone how was I born so unlucky?
The wutong trees shed even more fine rain
at twilight, drip drip drop drop
This time
how can there be only that one word– “anguish”?”
– Li Qinghao

The heaps of “yellow flowers” at the top of the second stanza are yellow chrysanthemums, used only at funerals. Her use of repetition is mindful of a funeral drum with its mournful beat over and over again as the procession moves solemnly toward the gravesite.

Enjoy your practice, everyone.


Continuing with our Halloween theme on Death and Dying from a Daoist perspective, here is an elegy that Tao Qian wrote for himself.

Tao Qian: Preparing my elegy

“If there is life there must be death,
early or late there is no hurrying fate.
Yesterday evening we were people together,
today at dawn we are listed among the ghosts.
The breath of the soul– where has it gone?
A dried-up shape is left in hollow wood.
My beloved children snivel, looking for their father,
my best friends mourn by the coffin, weeping.
Winning, losing– I won’t come back to know them.
Being, nothingness– how can I tell them apart?
In a thousand autumns, in ten thousand years,
who will know our glory and shame?
But I do regret that during my time in this world
I did not drink all the wine I wanted.”
–Tao Qian (Tao Yuanming) (365-427)

You don’t need to drink all the wine you want or write your own elegy. Just practice self-cultivation and enjoy, folks.


Closing out this week in the Taoist Month of the Dead with one more from Chuang Tzu. In this one, he shows some remorse for his departed friend, well, kind of.

“Zhuangzi was in a funeral procession and walked by Huizi’s gravemound. Turning his head to speak to his followers, he said, “There was a man from Ying who got some plaster on the tip of his nose, thin like a fly’s wing. He got a workman named Shi to chop it off for him. The workman Shi moved his axe so that a wind was made. He obeyed and chopped it. The plaster was taken off and the nose was unharmed, while the man from Ying did not change countenance.

“Prince Yuan of Song heard about this. He summoned workman Shi and said, ‘Try that on the orphaned one.’* Workman Shi said, ‘Your servant once could chop like that. However, your servant’s [working] material is long dead.’

“Since Master Hui has died, I have no material [to work with]. I have no one to talk to any more.”

– Zhuangzi, the Book of Chuang Tzu

Make sure your material is working – Practice, my friends, practice and enjoy. See you Monday.


Walking around the neighborhood last evening, I noticed the lawns decorated with Halloween gravestones and skulls, which reminded me of this wonderful Chuang Tzu story, fitting for our October theme of Death and Dying from the Daoist perspective.

Chuang Tzu and the Skull

When Chuang Tzu went to Ch’u, he saw an old skull, all dry and parched. He poked it with his carriage whip and then asked, “Sir, were you greedy for life and forgetful of reason, and so came to this? Was your state overthrown and did you bow beneath the ax, and so came to this? Did you do some evil deed and were you ashamed to bring disgrace upon your parents and family, and so came to this? Was it through the pangs of cold and hunger that you came to this? Or did your springs and autumns pile up until they brought you to this?”

When he had finished speaking, he dragged the skull over and, using it for a pillow, lay down to sleep.

In the middle of the night, the skull came to him in a dream and said, “You chatter like a rhetorician and all your words betray the entanglements of a living man. The dead know nothing of these! Would you like to hear a lecture on the dead?”

“Indeed,” said Chuang Tzu.

The skull said, “Among the dead there are no rulers above, no subjects below, and no chores of the four seasons. With nothing to do, our springs and autumns are as endless as heaven and earth. A king facing south on his throne could have no more happiness than this!”

Chuang Tzu couldn’t believe this and said, “If I got the Arbiter of Fate to give you a body again, make you some bones and flesh, return you to your parents and family and your old home and friends, you would want that, wouldn’t you?”

The skull frowned severely, wrinkling up its brow. “Why would I throw away more happiness than that of a king on a throne and take on the troubles of a human being again?” it said.
– Chuang Tzu, from the Zhuangzi translated by Burton Watson

I didn’t think skulls could wrinkle their brows. Doesn’t one need skin for that? In any case, wonderful story. What makes it so appealing is the fact that it isn’t about how Chuang Tzu views the afterlife, but rather how he views life, specifically about the stressful way we live our lives. Contained in the questions he puts to the skull is a littany of those troublesome situations we engage in. In his dream, the skull ppoints out that Chuang Tzu’s chatter and all of his questions “betray the entanglements of a living man.” Life, in Chuang Tzu’s opinion, needs to be lived carefree and natural, avoiding all those entanglements.

So, in your practice of cultivation see how many entanglements engross your life and look for ways to eliminate them. Enjoy your practive, folks.


Yesterday we finished Pan Yue’s poem for his deceased wife in which the final line refers to the story of Zhuangzi losing his wife. Here is that famous story:

“When Zhuangzi’s wife died, Huizi came to the house to join in the rites of mourning. To his surprise he found Zhuangzi sitting with an inverted bowl on his knees, drumming upon it and singing a song.

“After all,” said Huizi, “she lived with you, brought up your children, grew old with you. That you should not mourn for her is bad enough, but to let your friends find you drumming and singing–that is going too far!”

“You misjudge me,” said Zhuangzi. “When she died, I was in despair, as any man well might be. But soon, pondering on what had happened, I told myself that in death no strange new fate befalls us. In the beginning, we lack not life only, but form. Not form only, but spirit. We are blended in one great featureless indistinguishable mass. Then a time came when the mass evolved spirit, spirit evolved form, form evolved life. And now life in its turn has evolved death. For not nature only but man’s being has its seasons, its sequence of spring and autumn, summer and winter. If someone is tired and has gone to lie down, we do not pursue him with shouting and bawling. She whom I have lost has lain down to sleep for a while in the Great Inner Room. To break in upon her rest with the noise of lamentation would but show that I knew nothing of nature’s Sovereign Law. That is why I ceased to mourn.”

Contrast between Zhuangzi’s carefree and, dare I say, joyful reaction to his wife’s death and the traditional Chinese grief-stricken reaction as exemplified by Pan Yue and the Confucians, neo-Daoists and many Daoists is quite obvious. What Zhuangzi’s reaction does is show the deep understanding of life and death as only an enlightened, self-realized sage can have.

There are two other Zhuangzi stories that show his disregard for the sentiments we attach to death. They will finish out the week as we continue our October Halloween theme of Death and Dying in the Daoist tradition.
Enjoy your practice, folks.


Here’s the last stanza in Pan Yue’s poem on his drowning grief for his deceased wife as we continue our Halloween theme on Death and Dying from the Daoist perspective.

My Drowning Grief Overflows My Days (Part 3)

“The spring wind comes bringing a fissure of fate
At dawn the water drips off the eaves
In my bedroom– how can I forget those times?
My drowning grief overflows my days.

How much time will there be like this?
I could bang on a pot, like Zhuangzi.”

That final line with reference to Zhuangzi refers to the story of Zhuangzi losing his wife. When Huizi came to the house to join in the rites of mourning,to his surprise he found Zhuangzi sitting with an inverted bowl on his knees, drumming upon it and singing a song. We will have that story for you tomorrow, so you can see the differences in temperment and beliefs between Daoists even in ancient times.

Take care, everyone. See you tomorrow and enjoy your practice.


Here’s Part 2 of Chinese poet Pan Yue writing about his wife’s death…

My Drowning Grief Overflows My Days (Part 2)

“When I look at our cottage, I think of her in it.
The women’s rooms are empty of her.
Pen and ink still hold her traces.
The floating fragrance is not yet gone,
her portrait still hangs on the screen
almost as if she is still there.
I come back uneasy, startled, sad.
It’s like birds in the northern forest,
settled as a pair, one early left alone.
It’s like flatfish roaming the river,
one eye gone on the way.”

Pan Yue paints such a beautiful picture of not only his grief but his deep love for his departed wife and the sensual remembrances of her all about their cottage.

Tomorrow we will have the concluding stanza that bears a referance to Zhuangzi.


We continue our Halloween theme on Death and Dying from a Daoist perspective with Chinese poet Pan Yue (247-300) writing about his wife’s death, Here’s Part 1…

My Drowning Grief Overflows My Days (Part 1)

“Time passes, winter and spring fade;
cold and heat suddenly flow and change.
My bride has returned to the sad underworld,
a heavy place, forever shut off by gloom.
Private wishes– who can follow them?
Staying on here– how can that help me?
I should respect the court orders,
turn my heart back to my early service.”
– Pan Yue

Pan Yue was one of the first poets to write about his wife’s death. We will have Part 2 tomorrow.

We continue our Halloween theme on Death and Dying from a Daoist perspective with Chinese poet Pan Yue (247-300) writing about his wife’s death, Here’s Part 1…

My Drowning Grief Overflows My Days (Part 1)

“Time passes, winter and spring fade;
cold and heat suddenly flow and change.
My bride has returned to the sad underworld,
a heavy place, forever shut off by gloom.
Private wishes– who can follow them?
Staying on here– how can that help me?
I should respect the court orders,
turn my heart back to my early service.”
– Pan Yue

Pan Yue was one of the first poets to write about his wife’s death. We will have Part 2 tomorrow.


I hope you haven’t been spoked by some of Chuang-Tzu’s remarks on Death and Dying. Here’s one with a little humor in it.

“Tzu Li went to see Tzu Lai who was dying. Leaning against the door, he said, “Great is the Creator. What will he make of you now? Will he make you into a rat’s liver Will he make you into an insect’s leg?” Tzu-Lai replied, “The universe gave me my body so I may be carried, my life so I may work, my old age so I may repose, and my death so I may rest. To regard life as good is the way to regard death as good…. If I regard the universe as a great furnace and creation as a master foundryman, why should anywhere I go not be all right.”
—Chuang Tzu

A rat’s liver or an insect’s leg may not be a very appealing idea of an afterlife, but Tzu Lai nevertheless expounds the true Daoist view of complete faith in the Dao, the master foundryman. Have a great weekend, everyone, and I hope anywhere you go is all right. Enjoy!


Friday’s quote is again from Chuang-Tzu with a story of transcendence that relates to life and death.

“Nu Yu was teaching P-liang Yi to be a sage. It was three days before he was able to transcend this world. After he transcended this world Yi waited for seven days more, and then he was able to transcend all material things. After he transcended all material things, Yi waited for nine days more and he was able to transcend all life. Having transcended all life, he became as clear and bright as the morning. Having become as clear and bright as the morning, he was able to see the One. Having seen the One, he was then able to abolish the distinction of past and present. Having abolished the past and present, he was then able to enter the realm of neither life nor death. Then, to him, the destruction of life did not mean death and the production of life did not mean life …
—Chuang Tzu

So, that’s what one needs to do to become a sage? And all in less than 3 weeks, 19 days to be exact. Good luck with that. Enjoy your practice, folks.


We continue our Halloween theme on Death and Dying from a Daoist perspective with more from Chuang-Tzu. As I said yesterday, no other Daoist sage is more prolific when it comes to this topic. In fact, he writes about death and dying and its contrast with life more than any other subject to the point that I feel he is obsessed with it. Here’s one that teaches a most profound lesson:

“The true men of old were not afraid when they stood alone in their views. No great exploits. No plans. If they failed, no sorrow. No self-congratulation in success…. The true men of old knew no lust for life, no dread of death. Their entrance was without gladness, their exit, yonder, without resistance. Easy come, easy go. They did not forget where from, nor ask where to, nor drive grimly forward fighting their way through life. They took life as it came, gladly took death as it came, without care and went away, yonder. Yonder They had no mind to fight Tao. They did not try by their own contriving, to help Tao along. These are the ones we call true men. Minds free, thoughts gone. Brows clear, faces serene.”
—Chuang Tzu

“No lust for life, no dread of death,” the true men of old did not drive grimly forward fighting their way through life, and you should not either. Take life as it comes and gladly take death when it’s time, without car, without concern, with no mind to fight Tao. That’s your practice for this week and hopefully throughout the rest of your days. Enjoy, my friends!


As we continue on our Halloween theme of Death and Dying from a Daoist perspective, we come to none other than Chuang-Tzu. No other Daoist sage is more prolific when it comes to this topic, and perhaps no other sage is so revealing either. In today’s quote, Chuang-tzu is discussing the Sage, the true man of Tao…

“Goods and possessions are no gain in his eyes. He stays far from wealth and honor. Long life is no ground for joy, nor early death for sorrow. Success is not for him to be pround of, failure is no shame. Had he all the world’s power he would not hold it as his own. If he conquered everything he would not take it to himself. His glory is in knowing that all things come together in One and life and death are equal.”
—Chuang Tzu

Long life is no ground for joy, nor early death for sorrow. When all is said and done, “life and death are equal.” Let that be your practice to include in Self-Cultivation. We will have more from Chuang-Tzu on this topic tomorrow. Enjoy life, everyone.


Continuing our Halloween topic of Death and Dying from a Daoist perspective, today we look at the Daoist counterpart – Confucism with two quotes by Confucius.

“Death and life have their determined appointments; riches and honors depend upon heaven.” —Confucius

“If we don’t know life, how can we know death?” —Confucius

Not one prone to be wordy, these two quotes follow Confucius’ pert style of aphorisms that have little concern for Self-Cultivation in the spiritual sense like Laozi and Zhuangzi. Instead he was more concerned with moral or ethical cultivation. For example:

“The expectations of life depend upon diligence; the mechanic that would perfect his work must first sharpen his tools.” —Confucius

“To put the world in order, we must first put the nation in order to put the nation in order, we must put the family in order to put the family in order, we must cultivate our personal life and to cultivate our personal life, we must first set our hearts right.” —Confucius

Tomorrow we will see what Zhuangzi has to say about Death and Dying. Quite a bit, I believe. So, for now, enjoy your practice, folks.


Since October is the month of Ghosts and Goblins. in the true Halloween Spirit, this week we are looking at aspects of Death and Dying with a Daoist flavor. First up are two quotes from Lao-Tzu and the Tao Te Ching.

“Life and death are one thread, the same line viewed from different sides.” – Lao-Tzu

“Health is the greatest possession. Contentment is the greatest treasure. Confidence is the greatest friend. Non-being is the greatest joy.”

So, in the first one, we are told that Life and Death are two sides of the same coin just seen from different perspectives.On the one side, we look at life with a consciousness believed to be limited, and we perceive all the myriad externals of this world. On the other side, when we realize that consciousness is not limited or dependent on the body-mind, we more or less die to all of our false beliefs and opinions.

In the second quote, Lao-Tzu states the three greatest gifts that Life can give us: Health, Contentment or Satis-faction and Confidence. But it is death or Non-being (No longer being) that is the greatest joy.

Tomorrow, we will see what Confucous has to say about the topic. Enjoy your practice, everyone!


We had Part 1 of the Chuang-Tzu Story entitled “Wholeness” yesterday. Here’s Part 2…

“So a drunken man who falls out of a wagon
Is bruised, but not destroyed,
His bones are like the bones of other men,
But his fall is different.
His spirit is entire.
He is not aware of getting into the wagon,
Or falling out of it.
Life and death are nothing to him.
He knows no alarm,
He meets obstacles without thought,
without care,
And takes them without knowing they are there.

If there is such sincerity in wine,
How much more in Tao?
The wise man is hidden in Tao,
Nothing can touch him.”

This is not a suggestion to buy wine and get inebriated but to approach life and its obstacles with a carefree attitude confident that you are secure in the Tao. So, enjoy your practice and enjoy the weekend, everyone.


Today we have Part 1 of the Chuang-Tzu Story entitled “Wholeness.” It points to the ultimate human experience that Chuang-Tzu refers to as the “true man (person) of Tao.”

“How does the true man of Tao
Walk through walls without obstruction
And stand in fire without being burnt?

Not because of cunning or daring,
Not because he has learned –
But because he has unlearned.

His nature sinks to his root in the one.
His vitality, his power,
Hide in secret Tao.

When he is all one,
There is no flaw in him
By which a wedge can enter.”

Chuang-Tzu here agrees with his teacher Lao-Tzu who pointed out in the Chapter 48 of Tao Te Ching that one seeking knowledge learns something new everyday, but the true person of Tao unlearns something everyday.

There is also a message here for those involved in the internal arts: it is not the qi sinking to one’s root that matters, but one’s nature must sink to one’s root in the Tao.

We will close out the week tomorrow with the Part Two of “Wholeness.”


Today is a Chuang-Tzu story entitled “The Tower of the Spirit,” which highlights the concept of “wu wei,” non-contrived actions.

“The Spirit has an impregnable tower
which no danger can disturb
as long as the tower is guarded by the invisible Protector
who acts unconsciously and
whose actions go astray when they become deliberate
reflexive and intentional.

The unconscious and entire sincerity of Tao
are disturbed by any effort at self-conscious demonstration.
All such demonstrations are lies.
When one displays himself in this ambiguous way
the world storms in and imprisons him.
He is no longer protected by the sincerity of Tao.

Each new act is a new failure.
If his acts are done in public, in broad daylight,
he will be punished by men.
If they are done in private and in secret,
he will be punished by spirits.

Let each one understand the meaning of sincerity
and guard against display.

He will be at peace with men and spirits
and will act rightly, unseen, in his own solitude,
in the tower of his spirit.”
– Chuang-Tzu, from the “Zhuangzi (The Book of Chuang-Tzu)

Thus right action is simply “wu wei,” egoless actions done without contrivance, deliberation or display but as a spontaneous response rather than a reaction to a particular situation. Enjoy your practice, everyone.


We are taking a look at Chuang-Tzu stories this week from the Zhuangzi (The Book of Chuang-Tzu). This one is entitled “Apologies.”

“If a man steps on a stranger’s foot
In the marketplace,
He makes a polite apology
And offers an explanation:
“This place is so crowded.”

If an elder brother
Steps on his younger brother’s foot
He says, “Sorry.”
And that is that.

If a parent steps on his child’s foot
Nothing is said at all.

The greatest politeness
Is free from all formality.
Perfect conduct is free of concern.
Perfect wisdom is unplanned.
Perfect love is without demonstrations.
Perfect sincerity offers no guarantee.”

Thus it is that when one approaches perfection, one need not explain oneself as one’s speech and actions are beyond reproach. Such is the nature of perfection.

While you may be far from perfection, enjoy your practice anyway as there is no need to regret mistakes.


We continue this week with more from Chuang-Tzu and the Empty Boat…

“Who can free himself from achievement
And from fame, descend and be lost
Amid the masses of men?
He will flow like Tao, unseen,
He will go about like Life itself
With no name and no home.
Simple is he, without distinction.

To all appearances he is a fool.
His steps leave no trace. He has no power.
He … has no reputation.
Since he judges no one
No one judges him.
Such is the perfect man:
His boat is empty.”

So judge no one, lest you be judged, and enjoy your practice, folks, and the video below…


We start off October and the week with a quote from Chuang-tzu…

If a man is crossing a river
And an empty boat collides with his own skiff,
Even though he be a bad-tempered man
He will not become very angry.
But if he sees a man in the boat,
He will shout at him to steer clear.
If the shout is not heard, he will shout again,
And yet again, and begin cursing.
And all because there is somebody in the boat.
Yet if the boat were empty.
He would not be shouting, and not angry.

If you can empty your own boat
Crossing the river of the world,
No one will oppose you,
No one will seek to harm you.
-Chuang-tzu from the Chuangzi (The Book of Chuang-Tzu)

So, empty your boat and enjoy your practice, everyone. There’s no one to oppose or harm you.