01/25/2026
Meditation in the Snow
January 25, 2026
This morning, fourteen degrees below zero Fahrenheit.
Heaven and earth draw a single breath;
all sounds return to the root.
Snow falls without a sound—
time itself sits in meditation for the mountains and forests.
Bare branches speak no hardship;
white birch knows the measure of cold and warmth.
When not a single thought arises,
ten thousand realms become clear.
Winter stores itself in the bones;
summer tempers in fire.
The depths of the Three Nines are not avoided,
nor the blaze of the Three Fu escaped.
Cold comes—be cold;
warmth goes—let it go.
The Way has never lived in avoidance.
Nurturing the vast, upright qi of Heaven and Earth,
enjoying a healthy life in the human world.
Hungry, we eat—
a mouthful of worldly warmth.
Tired, we sleep—
a pillow of heaven and earth.
Carrying water feels not heavy;
drinking tea knows no lightness.
Every gesture, every step,
is walking meditation.
Tai Chi flows slowly;
yin and yang turn of themselves.
One breath of yoga—
body and mind return to unity.
Unattached, unentangled,
every day is a good day.
Closing the book,
wind turns the pages of snow.
Lifting the brush,
the heart settles into blankness.
Stillness within movement,
movement within stillness—
like clouds freely unfurling and gathering,
asking neither where they come from nor where they go.
Chan—
is facing life without entanglement,
snow arrives and is simply white;
it is the pure immediacy of the present,
the forest still, therefore deep.
One thought like water,
holding mountains and rivers,
nourishing all beings.
Snow covers all things—
yet water
always flows toward spring.
— Wu Mingjie