Long ago and far from here, a pilgrim was traveling in the hills. His thoughts were like clouds and dreams. He became lost in his walking.

He rounded a bend, and on the opposite wall of the canyon there was a peach tree in blossom. The blossoms were white with crimson in the center. No veil separated him from them, and suddenly the peach blossoms were him. The tree, the river, the birds, the sunlight, the morning cold – everything was peach blossoms. He laughed out loud. His name was Lingyun, and he wrote:

“For thirty years I searched for a Master Swordsman.
How many times did the leaves fall, and the branches burst into bud?
But from the moment I saw these peach blossoms,
I’ve had no doubts”.

It can be a shock – the heart coming forth. Anything, anything that we meet, is a peach blossom. An email about cancer, a phone call, the winter moonrise. When we truly meet any part of the universe, we recognize it. It feels like I’m seeing my own face. The things I thought I needed to be happy, I don’t need. I don’t need the perfectly respectable life that everyone wants. Mainly I don’t need to know what happens next. My own life is an unknown path through peach blossoms.

John Tarrant, The World Catches Us Every Time