While master Nan-ch’üan and his first pupil Chao-chou walked along the Huang-shan mountains, the first pupil said: – Master, those trees grow perfectly straight though the steep ground down in the valley. How do they know the right direction?
Nan-ch’üan answered: – There is no other possibility.
Poem
Crooked grounds, straight trees:
no other possibility.
Straight grounds, crooked trees:
existence ignores its own direction.
Originally posted in Italian on March 15, 2008 at 22:16
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