Fudoshin A snake that slithers on the ground can only dream of flying through the air. - March 18, 2011 add/view comments (0)

Colleges and Universities

Recommend this profile to your Facebook friends.

Darkness tracing a cool breeze across naked body. Icy all over. Feel-muscle, skin stretched. Where? Trying to move, feel satin rustle beneath me, but don't have the strength to raise my head from the pillow it rests on. I am in bed, somewhere. Eyes adjust to the dark and I can see tree shadows dancing through the room, the tops of French doors thrown open, a corner of night sky holding a sickle moon. From outside comes clearly the sound of loons, crickets, wind and ocean. I think... I'm in another country. Blood's chill moving in my veins. Then abruptly, what must have waken me? An exquisitely fine tracing of pain across my chest. Nails, like razor blades, moving delicately, slowly, almost slyly in what I imagine as the most elaborate of patterns rising upon skin, like tattoo, like scars. I hear a slow moan, long and low, and then after a time her response, moist exhalation of breath all over my body; her tongue scraping like a cat's along my inner thigh and a wash of hair breaking over my belly, then the puff of lips tender and yet taut around my %#&@$!, her tongue scraping along it, flaying with little barbs. This goes on and on, my body engorged with blood and sweat, and swimming in it-I'm suspended, almost dreaming. I see Riel, hovering around the bed, watching, smiling. The pressure is unbearable. Until she begins the draining.

When I awaken again, it's morning. I know without opening my eyes. I feel the shimmer of the world around me. Everything is crystal... that clear.

 

'When it is time to dress, get dressed. When you must walk, walk. Do not concern yourself with becoming a Buddha, just be yourself. Though the fool may laugh at you, the wise man will understand.'

Lin-chi

'The mind is not like the tree of enlightenment, there is no clear mirror. From the beginning nothing exists. What, than, can the dust sully?'

Hui-neng

... Living only for the moment, turning our full attention to the pleasures of the moon, the snow, the cherry blossoms and the maple leaves; singing songs, drinking wine, diverting ourselves in just floating, floating; ... refusing to be disheartened, like a gourd floating along with the river current: this is what we call the floating world...

From 'Tales of The Floating World', c. 1661