Home from a reading. Had to say no after to someone I love but not in that way. Hurt; the world hurts. Met a guy there, another practitioner, he’s giving a class on the Heart Sutra at the local Shambhala centre, I might check it out.
I walked home, got home, had to pee, went and peed. Stood there peeing and the Heart Sutra said there’s room for this, me with my dick in my hand, and the little piss bubbles breaking in the toilet, and my cat in the tub waiting impatiently I knew for me to draw more water for her to lap up, and the bit of sway in my stance from having drunk too much, and the sadness in me from having had to let someone I like, no, love, down, and the balls I felt in me for having had the whatever to do so anyway, and the joy alongside that that she liked and trusted her own affection well enough to say so to me regardless my answer. And then I was crying and there were all these forms mixing and crossing and the Heart Sutra said it’s okay like this.
Don’t even know how to put it. When you chant
Form is emptiness, emptiness is form
Form is exactly emptiness, emptiness exactly form
you don’t think, piss bubbles breaking into smaller bubbles in the toilet basin, or, sadness I feel at not having felt what someone wished I felt for them, which is a clean sadness, not the bitter sadness I would have felt if I’d dissembled. You don’t think, cat impatient in the tub for you to run the tap because for what ever effing reason that’s how she drinks water except as soon as you run it she jumps out of the tub. You don’t think, these two and a bunch of others all intersecting wildly and the whole of it and each portion of it. But – did everyone else know this already? – that’s what the lines mean. Form is form. No one is left out. The photo is my teacher and his teacher. Muge Daido Daisho. Taizan Maezumi Daisho.
the art of compost 