The Speech a Day Makes
Yesterday all day a small gardenia was a great consolation. Since it rained, I stayed in and wrote the review of the “Two Chinese Classics” sent by Paul Sih (Tao Te Ching and Hsiao Ching)
Shortness of breath, and palpitations of the heart enough to be noticed, quite prolonged. Not that I care. In any event it could be something merely psychological! But I stayed long looking at a goldfinch and walked slowly up through the woods, gazing at the tall straight oaks that are before you reach the turnstile. Everything is beautiful and I am grateful for all of it. And maybe now I begin to be old, and walk slowly, like Victor Hammer.
When the Dalai Lama was young, still a boy, he was lonely in the Potola and would walk on the roof looking through field glasses down upon the houses of his subjects to see if they were having parties and to watch their enjoyment. But they, in turn, would hide themselves so as not to sadden him still more.
Sweet afternoon! Cool breezes and a clear sky! This day will not come again.
The bulls lie under the tree in the corner of their field. Quiet afternoon! The blue hills, the daylilies in the wind.
This day will not come again.
June 16, 1961, IV.128