虛堂和尚語錄 3.59

3.59

At the informal gathering for the Winter Solstice: "The single primal breath secretly returns, and the octagonal millstone runs in empty space; the six hexagram lines have barely moved, and the featherless sparrowhawk flies hugging the sky. These are conditions of their own season, not pursuing the waxing and waning of the four seasons. You patch-robed monks, with your eyes wide open, sit right here. Even if, before the reed ashes had moved, you understood Deng Shibuo of Xichuan and the one on the left below East Mountain, it still would not be the season when the withered tree blossoms. Why?" Striking the staff, he said: "If winter is not cold, see what happens after the twelfth month."