Santoka wrote a small, very small haiku:
I HAVE NO HOME; AUTUMN DEEPENS.
Just visualize a homeless wanderer -- that's what a seeker is, a homeless wanderer -- in search of the home. He has not reached yet.
But a homeless wanderer has no attachment, has no possession, has no burden, has no tension, has no anxiety. The homeless wanderer slowly slowly relaxes in a deep let-go.
Sitting under a tree, perhaps, near a river or a mountain, he says, "I HAVE NO HOME; AUTUMN DEEPENS" -- but it does not matter. The autumn is so beautiful, and it is deepening every moment.
"I have no possessions, no home, no barriers, no blindfold on my eyes. I can see the autumn is deepening. I am so clean and clear ... that autumn deepens."
That reminds me of one of the questions of those Christian monks. They were very much concerned with the marble of this Buddha Hall. They are not at all concerned with all the marble in the Vatican; they are not concerned about the great cathedrals around the world with all their architecture and marble and statues. They are concerned with this small amount of marble in the Buddha Auditorium.
That's what I call blindness.
If you can see this marble, how can you not see the Vatican? All the churches of the Vatican, all the statues of Jesus, are made of purest Italian marble. Great sculptors for centuries have been working at creating cathedrals, churches.
And as far as this commune is concerned, I have to remind them ... They must have heard from their childhood that cleanliness is second to God. Here, there is no God. Cleanliness comes first! And there is nothing more clean than marble; it has a tremendous beauty, cleanliness, purity. It symbolizes beauty, architecturally.
We are putting marble on the commune roads. We have put marble in the public toilet -- I don't know, I just imagine, but my imaginings come true!
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