In Zazen, One Is One's Present Self,

Here I Am, Safely Returned Over Those Peaks From A Journey Far More Beautiful And Strange Than Anything I Had Hoped For Or Imagined - How Is It That This Safe Return Brings Such Regret?

I Think In Any Writing You're Paying Attention To Detail.

The Mystical Perception (which Is Only "mystical" If Reality Is Limited To What Can Be Measured By The Intellect And Senses) Is Remarkably Consistent In All Ages And All Places. All Phenomena Are Processes, Connections, All Is In Flux...have The Mind Screens Knocked Away To See There Is No Real Edge To Anything, That In The Endless Interpenetration Of The Universe, A Molecular Flow, A Cosmic Energy Shimmers In All Stone And Steel As Well As Flesh.

The Purpose Of Meditation Practice Is Not Enlightenment; It Is To Pay Attention Even At Extraordinary Times, To Be Of The Present, Nothing-but-in-the-present, To Bear This Mindfulness Of Now Into Each Event Of Ordinary Life.

The Sun Is Roaring, It Fills To Bursting Each Crystal Of Snow. I Flush With Feeling, Moved Beyond My Comprehension, And Once Again, The Warm Tears Freeze Upon My Face. These Rocks And Mountains, All This Matter, The Snow Itself, The Air- The Earth Is Ringing. All Is Moving, Full Of Power, Full Of Light.