Recluse’s day …

Up at dawn … practice in the first few hours of the morning (or late at night) … personal study for the rest of the morning … social lunch … recreation in the afternoon, out of doors if possible: gardening, walking about; indoors in poor weather: painting, calligraphy, reading literature, writing poems … summer excursions further afield: to picnic at beauty spots, go swimming, look for special sunrises, sunsets and views of the moon ….

After John Blofeld, Taoism. The Quest for Immortality (London, 1979)

Moving freely ...

Only one who has seen through things understands “moving freely as one and the same”.
In this way, rather than relying on your own distinctions, you dwell in the ordinary.
To be ordinary is to be self-reliant; to be self-reliant is to move freely; and to move freely is to arrive.
That’s almost it, because to arrive is to be complete.
But to be complete without understanding how - that is called Way.

From Chuang Tzu, The Inner Chapters, translated by David Hinton (Berkeley, 2013)

You can hear their chickens ...

Small country, few people -
Hundreds of devices,
But none are used.

People ponder on death
And don’t travel far.
They have carriages and boats,
But no one goes on board;
Weapons and armour,
But no one brandishes them.
They use knotted cords for counting.

Sweet their food,
Beautiful their clothes,
Peaceful their homes,
Delightful their customs.

Neighbouring countries are so close
You can hear their chickens and dogs.
But people grow old and die
Without needing to come and go.

Lao-Tzu, Tao Te Ching, Chapter 80, translated by Stephen Addiss and Stanley Lombardo (Indianapolis, 1993)

On Cold Mountain Road

On Cold Mountain Road
no one arrives
those who walk it
are called ten names
cicadas sing
crows don't screech
yellow leaves fall
white clouds sweep
rocks are huge
woods are deep
I live here alone
I'm called the Guide
look around
what are my signs

From The Collected Songs of Cold Mountain, translated by Red Pine (Port Townsend, 2000).

I built my house

I built my house near where others dwell,
And yet there is no clamour of carriages and horses.
You ask of me 'How can this be so?'
'When the heart is far the place of itself is distant.'
I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,
And gaze afar towards the southern mountains.
The mountain air is fine at evening of the day
And flying birds return together homewards.
Within these things there is a hint of Truth,
But when I start to tell it, I cannot find the words.

From T'ao the Hermit. Sixty Poems by T'ao Ch'ien (365-427), translated by William Acker (London, 1952).