I Think Of The Dalai Lama As

Comedy Is Nothing More Than Tragedy Deferred.

I Loved The Quiet Places In Kyoto, The Places That Held The World Within A Windless Moment. Inside The Temples, Nature Held Her Breath. All Longing Was Put To Sleep In The Stillness, And All Was Distilled Into A Clean Simplicity. The Smell Of Woodsmoke, The Drift Of Incense; A Procession Of Monks In Black-and-gold Robes, One Of Them Giggling In A Voice Yet Unbroken; A Touch Of Autumn In The Air, A Sense Of Gathering Rain.

A Comma . . . Catches The Gentle Drift Of The Mind In Thought, Turning In On Itself And Back On Itself, Reversing, Redoubling, And Returning Along The Course Of Its Own Sweet River Music; While The Semicolon Brings Clauses And Thoughts Together With All The Silent Discretion Of A Hostess Arranging Guests Around Her Dinner Table.

Visiting A New Town Is Like Having A Conversation. Places Ask Questions Of You Just As Searchingly As You Question Them. And, As In Any Conversation, It Helps To Listen With An Open Mind, So You Can Be Led Somewhere Unexpected. The More You Leave Assumptions At Home, I've Found, The Better You Can Hear Whatever It Is That A Destination Is Trying To Say To You.

The Ultimate Purpose Of Zen,' I Remembered The Roshi Telling Me, 'is Not In The Going Away From The World But In The Coming Back. Zen Is Not Just A Matter Of Gaining Enlightenment; It's A Matter Of Acting In A World Of Love And Compassion.