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Every day, everything grows a little older.

I'm 25 now.

Another year meanders by, like a crab shuffling across the sands of the ocean floor. From which shore are we coming? And to which are we hoping to reach?
  • Drinking: Tea
Arrogance is the hunger that drives the waves forward,
then, drawn back by the wind, they fling themselves out again,
to cover the sand and the shores,
to raise its hair and arch its back,
perhaps, even, to strike fear.

The sea knows no humility,
it tires itself, ebbing,
quietly resting for the next push, each day,
cooling itself, each night,
for another hurl of endless, ragged onslaught.

What wounded the sea so gravely?
More than arrogance, perhaps,
surrounded on all sides by the crags of land,
or the emptiness of air, contained,
it is the memories of a great sadness…

The memories of the sea.
They stretch back, like the waves in preparation…

Who can speak to the sea, and hear its hurt?
Who will bring calm to the sea, and warmth to its heart?
I decided to round out my last semester of college with an Asian Philosophy course, which has turned out to be a pretty good pick as far as containing actual interesting, thought provoking course material. In particular I've been interested in Daoism and the Daodejing. However, today we had a discussion about the eponymous Zhuangzi - a follow-up work to the Daodejing.

In the Zhuangzi, there is a passage about Zhuangzi mourning the death of his wife -
     "Zhuangzi's wife died. When Huizi went to convey his condolences, he found Zhuangzi sitting with his legs sprawled out, pounding on a tub and singing. 'You lived with her, she brought up your children and grew old,' said Huizi. 'It should be enough simply not to weep at her death. But pounding on a tub and singing – this is going too far, isn't it?'
     Zhuangzi said, 'You're wrong. When she first died, do you think I didn't grieve like anyone else? But I looked back to her beginning and the time before she was born. Not only the time before she was born, but the time before she had a body. Not only the time before she had a body, but the time before she had a spirit. In the midst of the jumble of wonder and mystery a change took place and she had a spirit. Another change and she had a body. Another change and she was born. Now there's been another change and she's dead. It's just like the progression of the four seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter.
     Now she's going to lie down peacefully in a vast room. If I were to follow after her bawling and sobbing, it would show that I don't understand anything about fate. So I stopped.'" (Zhuanghzi, chapter 18)
Interesting to look at a change as severe as death from another point of view, focused on fate and inevitability, and to free oneself of suffering as a result of the change, by opening up to new perspectives. I'm not a huge fan of Zhuangzi - I find his logic deplorable and his skepticism incredibly tedious - but he makes some fair points. There's a lot to be said of taking a moment to stop and consider different points of view.
  • Reading: Zhuangzi
  • Drinking: Tea
I am hungry,
I am starved.

Emaciated with the passing
of what essence was left.

I rub my ribs, they are
iron bars, holding together
the sacs of cells within-

Radius and ulna,
reach deep. There is a long way
yet to go, and although-

But no.

The ground is cold comfort. The
steel walls a reprieve-

But I must go. There is a sun to be

Vines whip in the soft wind. The trees are
tired this time of year. Like they
were waiting for a quieter age,
and it has come, as promised.
Canopy full of sound,
water drips onto the ragged roots.
The craggy trunks hold fast.

A million more years to last.

I will not accept these cuffs and binds,
this is mine to decide.
I can hear the soil singing, an awful roar,
furor and terroir.

And that night, ragged bones crawled,
and left the stony isles, the steely trees,
cameras that drilled direct, blue line to the soul-

and out came a man, alive.
Every day, everything grows a little older.

I'm 25 now.

Another year meanders by, like a crab shuffling across the sands of the ocean floor. From which shore are we coming? And to which are we hoping to reach?
  • Drinking: Tea


zeratul547's Profile Picture
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
You always asked the important questions in life:

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TheBrassGlass Featured By Owner Dec 28, 2012  Professional General Artist
To answer you, I do not mind at all and am in fact quite honored that you asked. :)
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