View from Mount Rigi © Barbara-Paraprem, 2015
The wind has settled,
the blossoms have fallen;
the mountains grow dark –
This is the wondrous power of Buddhism.
Der Wind hat sich gelegt,
die Blüten sind herabgefallen;
die Berge dunkeln –
Dies ist die wundersame Kraft des Buddhismus.
The text is handwritten and all details painted, even the background, for which I took the famous woodblock print „The Great Wave of Kanagawa„, and transformed it with Photoshop Elements into a „round picture“ as template for the painting.
HEART SUTRA © Barbara-Paraprem
An old man walked at dawn on the beach and saw a boy, like he picked up sea stars and has thrown them back into the sea. He catched him and asked him, what he was doing there. „The starfishs dry out and die when they are lying here in the morning heat of the sun“, came the reply. „But the beach is several kilometers long, and there are thousands of sea stars,“ replied the old man, „what difference does your efforts?“ „The boy looked at the sea star in his hand and threw him into the water. „For this one it makes a difference“, he said.
Ein alter Mann ging in der Morgendämmerung am Strand spazieren und sah einen Jüngeren, wie der Seesterne aufhob und ins Meer zurückwarf. Er holte ihn ein und fragte ihn, was er denn da mache. “Die Seesterne trocknen aus und sterben, wenn sie in der Vormittagshitze hier in der Sonne liegen”, kam die Antwort. “Aber der Strand ist viele Kilometer lang, und da liegen Tausende von Seesternen“, entgegnete der Alte, „was machen da deine Anstrengungen schon für einen Unterschied?“ Der Junge sah auf den Seestern in seiner Hand und warf ihn ins Wasser. “Für den hier macht es einen Unterschied“, sagte er. (Quelle: www.zen-meditation.ch)
RYOKAN © Barbara-Paraprem, 2016
One chilly autumn morning Mansuke was picking persimmons in his garden when he turned to see Ryokan standing there, looking up at the sky dreamily. Mansuke climbed down from the tree and Ryokan said: „Let’s play Go today.“ Mansuke loved to play Go, so they went into his house and Mansuke immediately laid out his Go board and stones. But before they began to play he said: „Just playing an ordinary game of Go isn’t much fun. Why don’t we bet something? If you win…”? Ryokan said: „It’s getting cold, so if I win, you could give me a quilted robe.“ „And if I win?“ asked Mansuke. „I have nothing to give you“, Ryokan replied. „Then why don’t you do some calligraphy?“ asked Mansuke, looking over at the brushes and calligraphy paper he had piled on his desk. „All right“, agreed Ryokan. They began to play, but Mansuke was much more skilled at playing Go than Ryokan was, so he soon beat him. And he insisted that Ryokan do some calligraphy. Ryokan took a fan from the desk on which he wrote:
my balls feel the chill
of the autumn wind.
Mansuke read the poem with a bitter smile. They resumed playing and when Mansuke won, Ryokan wrote out the same poem. When this happened three times, Mansuke, in exasperation exclaimed: „Three times for that same poem about balls is too much!“ „Well“, Ryokan replied, „you won the same game of Go three times, didn’t you? So I wrote the same poem three times.“
Wikipedia: Ryokan (poet)
Wikipedia: Go (game)
Crow eating a persimmon / Bird and persimmon
Ohara Koson, ca. 1910
www.wikiart.org / commons.wikimedia.org
I created a alternative to Google for all meditation lovers, especially Zennies…
Works in German too!
Ich habe eine Alternative zu Google für alle Meditations-Liebhaber entwickelt, speziell für Zennies…
Funktioniert auch in Englisch!
Discovered here: blog.gaiam.com
Watanabe Shiko, Japan, 18. cent., commons.wikimedia.org
Ka ya hiraki
nori toku tori no
Blossoms scent the air,
a carefree birdsongs
echoes the truth.
At the evening, when Gozan died, were still quite a few flowers on the plum tree outside his window. From time to time an owl came to rest in the tree, and called out „Ho, Ho“. Then Gozan said: „My life is over …“ He took his brush and wrote his death poem.
A death poem, called „Jisei“ or „Jisei no ku“ ( 辞世の句) or „Zetsumei-shi“ (絶命詩) in Japanese, is a poem written near the time of one’s own death. It is a tradition for literate people to write one in a number of different cultures, especially in Japan and Korea, as well as certain periods of Chinese history.
Death poems have been written by Chinese, Korean, and Japanese Zen monks, by many haiku poets, and Japanese Samurai. Poems were written following one of three poetic forms: kanshi, waka or haiku.
(Wikipedia: Death Poem)