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When your consciousness has become ripe in true zazen-pure like clear water, like a serene mountain lake, not moved by any wind-then anything may serve as a medium for realization.
Matsuo Basho
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Matsuo Basho
Age: 50 †
Born: 1644
Born: January 1
Died: 1694
Died: November 28
Artist
Poet
Writer
Vaxjo
Matsuo Basho
Bashō
Bashô
Basho
Matsuo Bashou
Consciousness
Medium
Clear
Mediums
Water
Realization
True
Serve
Become
Mountain
Serene
Anything
Moved
Lake
May
Pure
Ripe
Like
Wind
Lakes
More quotes by Matsuo Basho
The moon is brighter since the barn burned.
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Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.
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Seek on high bare trails Sky-reflecting violets... Mountain-top jewels
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No matter where your interest lies, you will not be able to accomplish anything unless you bring your deepest devotion to it.
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My body, now close to fifty years of age, has become an old tree that bears bitter peaches, a snail which has lost its shell, a bagworm separated from its bag it drifts with the winds and clouds that know no destination. Morning and night I have eaten traveler's fare, and have held out for alms a pilgrim's wallet.
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Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine, or to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo. And in doing so, you must leave your subjective preoccupation with yourself. Otherwise you impose yourself on the object and you do not learn.
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From all these trees, in the salads, the soup, everywhere, cherry blossoms fall.
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Ballet in the air... Twin butterflies until, twice white They Meet, they mate
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Plunge Deep enough in order to see something that is hidden and glimmering.
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Without bitterest cold that penetrates to the very bone, how can plum blossoms send forth their fragrance all over the world?
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Every moment of life is the last, every poem is a death poem.
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Winter garden, the moon thinned to a thread, insects singing.
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Collecting all The rains of May The swift Mogami River.
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Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home.
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Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water. After enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water.
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Orchidbreathing incense into butterfly's wings
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I am one who eats breakfast gazing at morning glories.
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Friends part foreverwild geese lost in cloud
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I felt quite at home, / As if it were mine sleeping lazily / In this house of fresh air.
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A thicket of summer grass / Is all that remains / Of the dreams of ancient warriors.
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