One touch and it sucked away the universe. Another, and all things were born.
There’s an enlightenment poem by Yamada Koun with the line: All my karmic sins were extinguished as if in a bolt of lightening.
An ancient ax strikes the cranium. Suddenly it appears: the bare fact of nothing at all. All this living, all this Zen: all along it was nothing.
Nothing to see, no one to see, no seeing. Next thing you’re on the floor, face wet with fears and laughter, every last nook and cranny of your self gone, therefore fully absolved.
The strange thing was that anytime I chose to look, it was still going on. A black hole in reverse, a sun, a nuclear fusion seething away–but where? I didn’t see how anyone could say. What it was, everything was. One touch and it sucked away the universe. Another, and all things were born.
The mother and father of everything, the fertile void: so loving, so powerful, so all aware–what a thing it was. Yet is was no thing.