Ruah Bull - Spiritual Director

 One summer day I visited, but the master had gone somewhere. Only a lotus blossom arranged in a vase guardian of the hermitage, its fragrance filling the room.

 As the plump squirrel scampers Across the roof of the corncrib, The moon suddenly stands up in the darkness, And I see that it is impossible to die. Each moment of time is a mountain. An eagle rejoices in the oak trees of heaven Crying THIS IS WHAT I WANTED