A ripe persimmon and empty hands


Sometimes two things that I saw in two different places, at two different times, just keep popping up together in my head. It’s like they decided to dance together, and they continually come back to show me.

The first one comes from a blog called Just 1 Foot in Yellow:

A few posts back I wrote about an eloquent saying I had come across:

“Open your hand and let the dead wood drop”

I still love that metaphor. Not chucking the wood, not chopping it up into pieces; just opening my hand and letting it drop to the ground, right where I am standing.

Here’s the other one, from a blog called Wild Fox Zen:

Roshi liked to say that spiritual maturity was like the persimmon, hanging unassumingly on a tree, and when finally becoming very ripe and soft, so ripe the stem itself dissolves and the persimmon falls to the ground, SPLAT!

Roshi would then lean back his head and laugh, often alone. “So we’re practicing to go splat?” I wondered to myself.

I think if you read both of the posts, they might dance together in your mind too.



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