A Feather

I hold my life lightly as a feather in my hand.

For this moment I am neither anxious about the past nor concerned about the future.

My being does not weigh heavily upon me.


I recall a story about a Tibetan monk during the Chinese invasion. The monastery was raided and all but he had fled. He stood in the centre of the quadrangle as a Chinese officer came up to him, sword in hand.

“Don’t you realize that with this sword I could take of your head?” said the soldier.

“Don’t you realise, that I can let you” said the monk.

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