We must keep up our studies even as civilization collapses around us.
Time isn’t something you can spread out like butter or jam, and death isn’t going to hang around and wait for you to finish whatever you happen to be doing before it zaps you
This feeling of alive is not so easy to experience. Even although life is a thing that seems to have some kind of weight and shape, this is only an illusion. Our feeling of alive has no real edge or b...
Saddened. Cheered at the thought of the many instants that arise and are available to do good in the world. Saddened by all the misspent moments that have piled on top of each other and led us to this...
Memories are time beings,
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Where should I start? I texted my old Jiko this question, and she wrote back this: 現在地で始まるべき. You should start where you are.
When a breeze blew, petals rained down on my upturned face, and I stopped and gasped, stunned by the beauty and sadness.
When I wash my feet May all sentient beings Attain the power of supernatural feet With no hindrance to their practice. Of
When I run out of the things I love, I move on to the things I don't hate too much, and sometimes I even discover that I can love the things I think I hate.
To study the Way is to study the self. To study the self is to forget the self. To forget the self is to be enlightened by all the myriad things.
There’s nothing sadder than cyberspace . . . but I’ve already said this.
The day the mountains move has come. Or so I say, though no one will believe me. The mountains were merely asleep for a while. But in ages past, they had moved, as if they were on fire. If you don’t b...
The cat still seemed to be somewhat there with him, but only as an absence, a cat-shaped hole.
Spinoza writes, A free man, that is to say, a man who lives according to the dictates of reason alone, is not led by fear of death, but directly desires the good, that is to say, desires to act, and t...
Sometimes when she told stories about the past her eyes would get teary from all the memories she had, but they weren't tears. She wasn't crying. They were just the memories, leaking out.
Later on, I asked her [her mother], How does it feel?What?When you can't remember things. Does it frighten you? Do you feel sad?Well, not really. I have this condition, you see. It's called osteo...os...
Everything seemed to grow blacker as I sat there, except for the fireflies whose tiny pulsing lights drew arcs through the dark summer air. On off . . . on off . . . on off . . . on off. The longer I...
Even the snap of a finger, he says, provides us with sixty-five opportunities to wake up and to choose actions that will produce beneficial karma and turn our lives around.
Does the half-life of information correlate with the decay of our attention?