Springtime flowers, autumn moon; summer’s cool breeze, winter’s snow.
By the pattern of the seasons farmers toil and plough, Only then do heaven and earth respond with harvest blessings; Thanks paid to the dryads and sprites of heaven and earth. Once more, and then belief goes on, striving as of yore, While the three elements of heaven, earth and the human, Generate each other in a never ending circle of life.
The four seasons are the firm pole of the world, The measure on which all human actions depend. Heaven holds yin and yang, coldness and heat, Earth contains water and soil, dying and flowering, The circle turns back to the beginning; all that is human is based on nature. Therefore, Standing by the ashes of the bygone century humans can gain warmth, waiting, creating a new era in time.
Autumn, winter, spring, summer, the rhythm of life, the heartbeat’s pulse: This is the life of humans, and of animals too. All must accept, and receive, this law and precept of nature; there is no turning back.
Once, Zen Master Hui Kai said: “If no trivial thing troubles your heart, that then is the best season for you.”
Patterns, the tracery of woven lines: the culture handed down to us from oracle bone script to calligraphy and inked drawings is all part of this culture of patterns. The interplay of lines and empty spaces bringing each other out, For where there is something, there is then empty space. Such that we can ponder and reflect and project our feelings thereon.
Plates and dishes are used at table; yet do they not also carry a further sense? Perhaps they will invite you to stop, for a moment, To look carefully, eat slowly, letting the enlightenment of beauty seep into your life.