On Riding the wind...

Lieh-Tzu a student of the Tao, found a very great master and went to study with him.

Lieh-Tzu went to sit outside the hut, the master paid no attention

After a year sitting outside Lieh-Tzu tired of waiting, went away, suddenly,

He got regretful and thought he should make another try.

He went back and continue to sit outside and ask the master “why are seasons coming and going”

So he sat there and meditate to control his mind in such a way that he doesn’t think of the difference between gain or loss, good or bad, trying to live in a place where nothing is an advantage or a disadvantage, attempting to keep his mind in the state of non-choosing

A very difficult thing to do

After a year the master look at him, just to recognize he was there,

Another year passed.

By then, the master had invited him to come into his house

However something had changed;

Lieh-Tzu didn’t try to control his mind:

I let my ears hear what they wanted to hear

I let my eyes see what they wanted to see

I let my feet move wherever they wanted to move

I let my mind think whatever it wanted to think

All my bodily existence seem to melt and become transparent

And I had no weight

And I didn’t know if I was walking on the wind

Or the wind was walking on me

That is the fasting of the heart

-The book of Expanding Emptiness, Lieh-Tzu

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... She is the Life/Death force, she is the incubator. She is intuition, she is far-see, she is deep listener, she is loyal heart.

She encourages humans to remain multi -lingual; fluent in the languages of dreams, passion and poetry. She whispers from night dreams,

she is ideas, feelings, urges, and memory. She has been lost and half forgotten for a long, long time. She is the source, the light, the night, the dark, and daybreak.

She is the smell of good mud and the back leg of a fox.

she is the one who thunders after injustice. She is the one who turns like a great wheel. She is the maker of cycles. She is the one we leave home to look for.

She is the one we come home to.

She is the mucky root of all women. She is the incubator of raw little ideas and deals. She is the mind which thinks us, we are the thoughts that she thinks.

Where is she present? where can you feel and find her? She walks the deserts, woods, oceans, cities, in the barrios and the castles.

She lives among queens among campesinas, in the boardroom, in the factory, in the prison, in the mountain of solitude.

Where does she live? At the bottom of the well, in the headwaters, in the ether before time.

She lives in the tear and in the ocean.

She lives in the cambia of tress, which pings as it grows. She is from the future and from the beginning of time. She lives in the past and is summoned by us. She is in

the present and keeps a chair at our table. She is the future and walks backward in time to find us now.

She lives in the green poling through snow, she lives in the rustling stalks of dying autumn corn,

she lives where the dead come to be kissed and the living send their prayers.

She lives in the place where language is made.

People may ask for evidence, for proof of her existence. They are essentially asking for proof of the psyche. Since we are the psyche, we are the evidence.

Each and every one of us is the evidence of Wild woman's existence, but of her condition in the collective. We are proof of this ineffable female numen

Our existence parallels hers.

The fact that we are bereft in her absence, that we long and yearn when we are separated from her, these are the manifestations that she has passed this way...

- from Rowing songs from the night sea journey: contemporary chants, C.P. Estes