Sitting in the garden listening to the rain.
There may be no more to be said than that. Call it a koan if you will, or a haiku perhaps. But do not be entangled by words or definitions.
If you must subscribe to any line of thinking, let it be Eastern. I am Zen. Doing nothing.
I am the Tao. I am the Hsin Hsin Ming.
And so are we all, did we but know it.
In the quiet, I have seen my origins. I have witnessed my past and my future. In me as in all of us, there are a million, million years of history.
In meditation, it is not too fanciful to speak to your long deceased father. Or mother. Or any of the millions of things you have been in the past, or will become in the future.
I sense a life in the woods, way back in time. I witnessed my consciousness emerge from all those eons of experienced time. And somewhere a monastery, in more modern times. Always a monastery.
And I saw the way it must end. Or rather, not end. Continue.
As I sense my father in me, my son, if he cared to think about it, would sense me in him. And his mother.
A seeker eventually finds. I have found. The truth, the way, reality – call it what you will.
It is devastatingly simple and of incredible complexity.
The simple part is to be. To feel the waters and flow of time around you and to go, to drift with the gentle current.
There is no more to it than that. If you seek contentment and meaning, then accept the river, the flow and do not try to go against the stream.
If you seek complexity, you will certainly find it, but it will avail you little.
Complexity is to be found in your body and the millions of working parts which make you what you are.
Complexity is to be found in the society and economy we have created.
Let it all pass. It will do so of its own accord in time. All is change, there are no constants.
Being, that is all there is to it. Sitting in the garden and listening to the rain.