Actually, we always ignore death.
When we begin to doubt the permanence of life, somewhere not far behind us, there is always a man in black calling to us, in a voice that in our younger years our hearing could not detect. As we gradually add white hairs, that voice becomes clearer and clearer
We gradually realize that the dark caller not far behind us is in fact ourselves
We cannot help but develop a kind of curiosity about the process of death, and even some thoughts of seeking some brand-new way; that process gives us a very special kind of perception.
And when our black hair truly turns white as snow, we will know that in this journey of life we have already died many, many times. In fact, true death is not something we can perceive or sense. We have always ignored it. Every present self can absolutely not be the same as that past self. Every person you see can only be the past tense of former days.
People often say the future is unknown, but what is truly unknown is the present. And there is absolutely no pattern to be found in it.
It is precisely this unknowable present that leaves us confused and unenlightened.
We feel death in an instant. Life is like water in a long river, flowing without cease. What keeps piling up without end are our unbroken succession of corpses. The flesh constantly changes, thoughts are constantly renewed. We have always been dying.
In the end, we ignore death.
When we begin to doubt the permanence of life, somewhere not far behind us, there is always a man in black calling to us, in a voice that in our younger years our hearing could not detect. As we gradually add white hairs, that voice becomes clearer and clearer
We gradually realize that the dark caller not far behind us is in fact ourselves
We cannot help but develop a kind of curiosity about the process of death, and even some thoughts of seeking some brand-new way; that process gives us a very special kind of perception.
And when our black hair truly turns white as snow, we will know that in this journey of life we have already died many, many times. In fact, true death is not something we can perceive or sense. We have always ignored it. Every present self can absolutely not be the same as that past self. Every person you see can only be the past tense of former days.
People often say the future is unknown, but what is truly unknown is the present. And there is absolutely no pattern to be found in it.
It is precisely this unknowable present that leaves us confused and unenlightened.
We feel death in an instant. Life is like water in a long river, flowing without cease. What keeps piling up without end are our unbroken succession of corpses. The flesh constantly changes, thoughts are constantly renewed. We have always been dying.
In the end, we ignore death.
弄花香满衣，掬水月在手。
明月鹭鸟飞， 芦花白马走。
我自一过后，野渡现横舟。
青云碧空在，净瓶水不流。
http://dos.e-stone.cn/guestbook/index.asp
＝＝＝＝＝＝中國DOS聯盟＝＝＝＝＝
我的新网页http://rsds.7i24.com欢迎光顾
明月鹭鸟飞， 芦花白马走。
我自一过后，野渡现横舟。
青云碧空在，净瓶水不流。
http://dos.e-stone.cn/guestbook/index.asp
＝＝＝＝＝＝中國DOS聯盟＝＝＝＝＝
我的新网页http://rsds.7i24.com欢迎光顾
