Categorie archief: 2018

Lezen met je hart / Reading with your heart

For the English version scroll down.

Tijdens de december sesshin lazen we het gedicht “A Meadow” van Czesław Miłosz (1). En ook de eerste regels van zijn gedicht “Love” (uit het drieluik “Faith, Hope, Love”). Ik laat ze beiden hieronder eerst voor zichzelf spreken.

A Meadow

It was a riverside meadow, lush, from before the hay harvest,
On an immaculate day in the sun of June.
I searched for it, found it, recognized it.
Grasses and flowers grew there, familiar in my childhood.
With half-closed eyelids I absorbed luminescence.
And the scent garnered me, all knowing ceased.
Suddenly I felt I was disappearing and weeping with joy.

Love

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at unfamiliar things
Because you are only one of many things.

And someone who can look that way at himself
Will heal his heart of many troubles,
Perhaps without knowing he has done it.
The Bird and Tree say to him, “Friend.”

And then he’ll want to use himself and things
In such a way that each one glows, fulfilled.
And if sometimes he finds he doesn’t understand,
It doesn’t matter. His task is just to serve.

Je kunt een gedicht op verschillende manieren lezen, maar mijn uitnodiging is om dit met je hart te lezen. Om het te léven. Om net als Miłosz één te worden met de weide, de zon. Om het licht te absorberen en alle weten en begrijpen voor even te laten varen.

De Shakyamuni Boeddha zegt in de Bahiya Sutta (2) tegen de zwervende kluizenaar Bahiya:
“Als […] in wat gezien wordt alleen wat gezien wordt is, en in wat gehoord wordt alleen wat gehoord wordt […] dan zal je daar niet ‘bij zijn.’ Als je er niet ‘bij bent,’ dan zal je er niet ‘in zijn.’ Als je er niet ‘in bent’ zal je noch hier noch daar noch ergens tussen in zijn. Enkel dit is het einde van lijden.”

Als we ervaren in het hart; zonder afstand, zonder identificatie, en nergens er tussen in; zonder plek, zonder een standpunt, “the way one looks at unfamiliar things,” dan blijkt het hart onmetelijk en onbepaalbaar te zijn, zonder begin en zonder einde. Hoe groot is dit hart? Mijn hart, jouw hart, de ruimtelijkheid die we binnenin kunnen voelen. Wat kan het omvatten? Al die gedachten, al die gevoelens en nog zo veel meer! Al die verbindingen, bronnen en oorzaken en alles wat voortvloeit! Het is onbegrijpelijk en tegelijkertijd is het thuis.

“I searched for it, found it, recognized it.” Wat zocht hij? Wat vond hij, herontdekte en herkende hij? Er valt iets te zoeken, te vinden, te herontdekken en te herkennen. Hou nooit op met zoeken. Zelfs als je denkt dat je het nooit zult vinden. Zelfs als je gelooft dat je het gevonden hebt. Onderzoek.

(1) Czesław Miłosz was een Poolse dichter die een groot deel van zijn leven in Frankrijk en de VS leefde en die in 1980 de Nobelprijs voor de literatuur kreeg.
(2) De Bahiya Sutta: About Bahiya (Ud 1.10). Uit: The Udana & The Itivuttaka. Vertaald uit het Pali door John D. Ireland (1997


During the December sesshin we read a poem by Czesław Miłosz (1) called “A Meadow”. And also part of his poem “Love” (from the triptych “Faith, Hope, Love”). First, I will let them speak for themselves:

A Meadow

It was a riverside meadow, lush, from before the hay harvest,
On an immaculate day in the sun of June.
I searched for it, found it, recognized it.
Grasses and flowers grew there, familiar in my childhood.
With half-closed eyelids I absorbed luminescence.
And the scent garnered me, all knowing ceased.
Suddenly I felt I was disappearing and weeping with joy.

Love

Love means to learn to look at yourself
The way one looks at unfamiliar things
Because you are only one of many things.

And someone who can look that way at himself
Will heal his heart of many troubles,
Perhaps without knowing he has done it.
Then Bird and Tree say to him, “Friend.”

And then he’ll want to use himself and things
In such a way that each one glows, fulfilled.
And if sometimes he finds he doesn’t understand,
It doesn’t matter. His task is just to serve.
You can read a poem in different ways but I want to invite you to read these with your heart. To live them. To do as Miłosz did and become one with the meadow, the sun. To absorb the light and to let go for once of knowing and understanding.

In the Bahiya Sutta (2), the Shakyamuni Buddha says to the wandering hermit Bahiya:
“When […] in the seen there is merely what is seen and in the heard merely what is heard […] then you will not be ‘with that.’ When you are not ‘with that,’ then you will not be ‘in that.’ When you are not ‘in that,’ then you will be neither here nor beyond nor in between the two. Just this is the end of suffering.”

When we experience in the heart; without separation, without identification, and not anywhere in between; without a place, without a view point, “the way one looks at unfamiliar things,” then the heart turns out to be without measure and without definition, without beginning, without end. How big is this heart? My heart, your heart, the spaciousness that we can experience within? What can it encompass? All those thoughts, all those feelings, and so much more! All those connections and sources and causes and everything that gushes forth. It is beyond comprehension and at the same time it is home.

“I searched for it, found it, recognized it.” What was he looking for? What did he find, rediscover and recognize? There is something to search for, to find, to recognize. Never stop searching for it. Even if you believe you will never find it. Even if you believe you have found it. Investigate.

(1) Czesław Miłosz was a Polish Poet who spent a large part of his life in France and the US and who received the Nobel prize for literature in 1980.
(2) The Bahiya Sutta: About Bahiya (Ud 1.10). From: The Udana & The Itivuttaka. Translated from Pali by John D. Ireland (1997)