Contemplation is the art of subtle mind turning; it is letting your mind gently carousel around what comes into it; it is mind being mind, mind being with mind, mind unattached, mind involved, mind delighting, mind asking and answering, mind seeking and finding; it is like a feathered seed blowing hither and yon in a gentle breeze, alighting for a moment then moving to unseen winds.
Sitting Zen is stepping back enough to allow mind to freely flow; contemplating is engaging at times with that which flows, like following a leaf down a stream, carefully observing as it frolics in ripples, becomes tethered to a branch, releases with the wind, then continues on until out of sight. The contemplative mind has no purpose other than reflection itself; contemplative delight in clear seeing is less of a reward than an act of fully engaged participation in the subtle presence of life.
There is no greater delight for me than leaning against a rock in the warm sun and seeing what is nearby. I am always surprised when the nuances of the moment present themselves, and whatever inner storms may be brewing seem to vanish in the deep stream of appreciation for this mysterious and brief life. Contemplation seems to move between the luminosity of the present and the teachings of dharma; it is a dance between experience and philosophy, reality and thought, poetry and story, fullness and emptiness, living and dreaming. Contemplation is an ocean without a shore, an activity without a goal, a harmonious play between heaven and earth.
the winter sun on my cheek
a feathered seed pod floating in the wind
worlds upon worlds arising and falling away
Contemplating Zen
