There is nothing more difficult or spectacular than experiencing the mystery of life firsthand. We may have tried to avoid this mystery or pretend to ignore it for a while, but the only way to let our lives be illuminated by the vitality that shines through everything is to dive headfirst into life and let our humanity out into the open. In fact, we are always beginning, because by diving in without judgment or consequence, we can drink from the source of mystery. "Starting" new initiatives is how we energize ourselves. Remember, as mentioned above, the word authentic derives its root from the movements of the sculptor's hands, which means that the process of authentic realization requires us to be constantly shaped and shaped by hands, to be cared for and given care for. This series of hand activities become the convergence point of existence and growth, the integration of inner and outer, they are like a pair of flexible hands, gently brushing away the veil of life, let the truth of unity revealed. By living as we are, we can get a deep glimpse into the heart of everything and experience over and over our connection to everything. Our softness and stubbornness determine whether we deviate from the path of life vitality. The more stubborn we are, the more isolated we become; The more stubborn, the easier it will be broken; The more stubborn we are, the more we demand that things conform to our standards before we can accept them. But the more flexible we are -- the more flexible and mobile we are -- the more we allow the world to come and pass through us. In this way, we can gain more opportunities to be washed and cleansed by life. To grow, you need to know the difference between standing firm and being stubborn. You need to know the difference between going with the flow (being fluid) and going with the flow (being quiet). These distinctions are subtle but critical, and only you know the difference. Standing firm is our commitment to our own truth, not to explain or defend it to anyone, but simply to live by it. Standing firm is our commitment to our own truth, not to explain or defend it to anyone, but simply to live by it. The poet Walt Whitman is an example of a firm stance. In 1844, Ralph Waldo Emerson published an essay called "The Poet," in which he advocated the establishment of American reason and the freeing of the shackle on the imagination of young people left by the British colonial empire. Although the United States had been free of British colonial rule for nearly 100 years, Emerson was adamant that the American language and imagination were still following the English tradition. Emerson's essay was a sensation throughout the United States. Eleven years later, Emerson read Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" and was surprised to see that Whitman was the true American spiritual poet he had been waiting for. He wrote to Whitman, warmly praising the young poet (a famous letter dated July 21, 1855). Emerson and Whitman soon became good friends. But five years later, in 1860, when Whitman tried to publish a third edition of Leaves of Grass, he was blocked by his staunchest bole. Whitman later recorded the occasion in his journal, "Specimen Day." Whitman visited Emerson that day, and the two walked and talked all afternoon in Boston Common. Emerson insisted that Whitman take down the poem "Children of Adam," which revealed that he was gay. Whitman recorded in his diary that he listened quietly for two hours without saying a word.

When Emerson had finished, Whitman was more certain than ever of his decision -- that he could not escape who he was. It is a story of unspoken integrity, of being true to one's nature and of maintaining one's own integrity. In its deepest sense, standing firm is a determination not to be persuaded or wearied away from one's nature. Stubbornness, on the other hand, is resistance to the teachers and lessons we encounter, to change and grow. The line between the two, often very subtle, stand firm if not careful will become stubborn, and we are often the last to perceive that one. Standing firm is our commitment to our own truth, not to explain or defend it to anyone, but simply to live by it. The legendary King Gilgamesh of Uruk is an example of obstinacy. Among the earliest accounts we can find are the stories of Gilgamesh: He's in power, he kills thousands of people, he's ruthless, he's never felt a trace of guilt, he's stubborn, he's cut himself off from the feeling of life, he's looking for excitement by bloodthirsty brutality and creating incidents that eventually lead to the death of his only friend, Enkidu. The arrogant Gilgamesh then set out on a long journey, vociferously demanding to meet the god Utnapishtim and bring Enqidu back to life. A soothsayer tells him that he will meet a ferryman who will take him to the other side of the sea of Death, so that he can meet the God himself, and that he will encounter a mysterious pile of stones on the way, which he must give to the ferryman. Gilgamesh did not change his violent ways. He was still violent along the way, eager to be touched, but not sure how to do it. Once, when he accidentally tripped over a pile of mysterious stones, he became angry and smashed them to pieces. When he came to the river, and the ferryman demanded the mysterious stone, Gilgamesh saw the light, but he could do nothing but return in a rage and in vain. So Gilgamesh, because of his stubbornness, was unable to accept anything new, and luck was slipping away from him. Only flexibility can be accepted. Flexibility allows us to relax our boundaries and interact with everything that comes into our lives. It also allows us to bear the chance of "appearing". In fact, carrying itself is to allow the external things into our inner, we can also feel their own vitality in the interaction with these new things. When we are rigid, we close the doors of our hearts to each other, and when we are flexible and open, we can exchange energy and vitality with each other. I'm giving you a good example of flexibility. A little boy who was blind once dreamed that someone told him that bowing would help him see again. He bowed everywhere he went in the next few days: on the grass, in the wind, to his mother's gentle hands, but none of them brought him back. Once he bowed his head low into the book of the sages his father was reading, as useless as ever, but the revelation in his dream was so real. Almost in despair, the little boy felt that he must have misread the hint, and that his mistake had cost him his chance of seeing again. Dejected, he swam to the lake, and still did not stop, wading dejectedly forward, and when the water was almost up to his chest, he sat down in despair. He was like a baby in the bath, holding his breath and letting himself sink deeper into the lake, as if trying to dive beneath the surface of things until he could no longer hear the noise of blindness. Then he felt himself being held in a gentle embrace, and he burst into tears. The tears blended with the water, and in the moment when the tears and the water were gently intertwined, he began to feel the bottom of the lake beneath him, the slow swimming of an ancient fish, the reflection of a paddle on the surface of the lake cutting through the blue sky and the white clouds, and even the gentle circling of an eagle in the high sky. And its shadow fell to the bottom of the lake. Suddenly, the boy jumped out of the water, the fresh air kissing his eyes and the gentle sun caressing his face. From that moment on, he knew that by diving beneath the surface of things, he could perceive everything. From then on, though still blind, he had the grandest vision. Later, the boy became a life coach, and people from far and near came to seek his guidance. With gentle guidance, he made people realize that no matter what part of our body is wrong, our mind can sink under the lake of memory and pain and perceive the ultimate truth. The gentle blind boy tells everyone that the awakening of the soul is slow, and that only our meekness -- our willingness to sink to the bottom of things and wait patiently -- allows us to see the truth and move forward. But extreme conformity is also a tendency we should be careful to avoid. Without a firm stance as our anchor, it is easy to give up on ourselves completely, often because we are too compliant, we melt away the essence of our core. The dark side of conformity is going with the flow. Examples of this are everywhere: not speaking the truth in the face of authority, ignoring one's own needs for the sake of seeming peace. In doing so, one is actually giving up one's self and hiding one's true self, rather than expressing one's true self. There is no ignoring the fact that people are dynamic, so we can start over all the time, just as we draw a map that is no longer in the past when the ink is dry. In the vast sea of life, we need a constant course correction, just as we need to adjust the tiller of a sailboat -- first from left to right, then from right to left, between firmness and obstinacy, between flexibility and ease. Until we finally dive beneath the noise of blindness, the mind can navigate for us. ● How flexible or stubborn a person is determines how far we deviate from the path of life's vitality. In your journal, please tell about the most stubborn person you know and the most pliable person you know. Which inner voice are you more likely to listen to for guidance these days? The stubborn you or the pliable you?

There is nothing more difficult or spectacular than experiencing the mystery of life firsthand. We may have tried to avoid this mystery or pretend to ignore it for a while, but the only way to let our lives be illuminated by the vitality that shines through everything is to dive headfirst into life and let our humanity out into the open. In fact, we are always beginning, because by diving in without judgment or consequence, we can drink from the source of mystery. "Starting" new initiatives is how we energize ourselves. Remember, as mentioned above, the word authentic derives its root from the movements of the sculptor's hands, which means that the process of authentic realization requires us to be constantly shaped and shaped by hands, to be cared for and given care for. This series of hand activities become the convergence point of existence and growth, the integration of inner and outer, they are like a pair of flexible hands, gently brushing away the veil of life, let the truth of unity revealed. By living as we are, we can get a deep glimpse into the heart of everything and experience over and over our connection to everything. Our softness and stubbornness determine whether we deviate from the path of life vitality. The more stubborn we are, the more isolated we become; The more stubborn, the easier it will be broken; The more stubborn we are, the more we demand that things conform to our standards before we can accept them. But the more flexible we are -- the more flexible and mobile we are -- the more we allow the world to come and pass through us. In this way, we can gain more opportunities to be washed and cleansed by life. To grow, you need to know the difference between standing firm and being stubborn. You need to know the difference between going with the flow (being fluid) and going with the flow (being quiet). These distinctions are subtle but critical, and only you know the difference. Standing firm is our commitment to our own truth, not to explain or defend it to anyone, but simply to live by it. Standing firm is our commitment to our own truth, not to explain or defend it to anyone, but simply to live by it. The poet Walt Whitman is an example of a firm stance. In 1844, Ralph Waldo Emerson published an essay called "The Poet," in which he advocated the establishment of American reason and the freeing of the shackle on the imagination of young people left by the British colonial empire. Although the United States had been free of British colonial rule for nearly 100 years, Emerson was adamant that the American language and imagination were still following the English tradition. Emerson's essay was a sensation throughout the United States. Eleven years later, Emerson read Whitman's "Leaves of Grass" and was surprised to see that Whitman was the true American spiritual poet he had been waiting for. He wrote to Whitman, warmly praising the young poet (a famous letter dated July 21, 1855). Emerson and Whitman soon became good friends. But five years later, in 1860, when Whitman tried to publish a third edition of Leaves of Grass, he was blocked by his staunchest bole. Whitman later recorded the occasion in his journal, "Specimen Day." Whitman visited Emerson that day, and the two walked and talked all afternoon in Boston Common. Emerson insisted that Whitman take down the poem "Children of Adam," which revealed that he was gay. Whitman recorded in his diary that he listened quietly for two hours without saying a word.

When Emerson had finished, Whitman was more certain than ever of his decision -- that he could not escape who he was. It is a story of unspoken integrity, of being true to one's nature and of maintaining one's own integrity. In its deepest sense, standing firm is a determination not to be persuaded or wearied away from one's nature. Stubbornness, on the other hand, is resistance to the teachers and lessons we encounter, to change and grow. The line between the two, often very subtle, stand firm if not careful will become stubborn, and we are often the last to perceive that one. Standing firm is our commitment to our own truth, not to explain or defend it to anyone, but simply to live by it. The legendary King Gilgamesh of Uruk is an example of obstinacy. Among the earliest accounts we can find are the stories of Gilgamesh: He's in power, he kills thousands of people, he's ruthless, he's never felt a trace of guilt, he's stubborn, he's cut himself off from the feeling of life, he's looking for excitement by bloodthirsty brutality and creating incidents that eventually lead to the death of his only friend, Enkidu. The arrogant Gilgamesh then set out on a long journey, vociferously demanding to meet the god Utnapishtim and bring Enqidu back to life. A soothsayer tells him that he will meet a ferryman who will take him to the other side of the sea of Death, so that he can meet the God himself, and that he will encounter a mysterious pile of stones on the way, which he must give to the ferryman. Gilgamesh did not change his violent ways. He was still violent along the way, eager to be touched, but not sure how to do it. Once, when he accidentally tripped over a pile of mysterious stones, he became angry and smashed them to pieces. When he came to the river, and the ferryman demanded the mysterious stone, Gilgamesh saw the light, but he could do nothing but return in a rage and in vain. So Gilgamesh, because of his stubbornness, was unable to accept anything new, and luck was slipping away from him. Only flexibility can be accepted. Flexibility allows us to relax our boundaries and interact with everything that comes into our lives. It also allows us to bear the chance of "appearing". In fact, carrying itself is to allow the external things into our inner, we can also feel their own vitality in the interaction with these new things. When we are rigid, we close the doors of our hearts to each other, and when we are flexible and open, we can exchange energy and vitality with each other. I'm giving you a good example of flexibility. A little boy who was blind once dreamed that someone told him that bowing would help him see again. He bowed everywhere he went in the next few days: on the grass, in the wind, to his mother's gentle hands, but none of them brought him back. Once he bowed his head low into the book of the sages his father was reading, as useless as ever, but the revelation in his dream was so real. Almost in despair, the little boy felt that he must have misread the hint, and that his mistake had cost him his chance of seeing again. Dejected, he swam to the lake, and still did not stop, wading dejectedly forward, and when the water was almost up to his chest, he sat down in despair. He was like a baby in the bath, holding his breath and letting himself sink deeper into the lake, as if trying to dive beneath the surface of things until he could no longer hear the noise of blindness. Then he felt himself being held in a gentle embrace, and he burst into tears. The tears blended with the water, and in the moment when the tears and the water were gently intertwined, he began to feel the bottom of the lake beneath him, the slow swimming of an ancient fish, the reflection of a paddle on the surface of the lake cutting through the blue sky and the white clouds, and even the gentle circling of an eagle in the high sky. And its shadow fell to the bottom of the lake. Suddenly, the boy jumped out of the water, the fresh air kissing his eyes and the gentle sun caressing his face. From that moment on, he knew that by diving beneath the surface of things, he could perceive everything. From then on, though still blind, he had the grandest vision. Later, the boy became a life coach, and people from far and near came to seek his guidance. With gentle guidance, he made people realize that no matter what part of our body is wrong, our mind can sink under the lake of memory and pain and perceive the ultimate truth. The gentle blind boy tells everyone that the awakening of the soul is slow, and that only our meekness -- our willingness to sink to the bottom of things and wait patiently -- allows us to see the truth and move forward. But extreme conformity is also a tendency we should be careful to avoid. Without a firm stance as our anchor, it is easy to give up on ourselves completely, often because we are too compliant, we melt away the essence of our core. The dark side of conformity is going with the flow. Examples of this are everywhere: not speaking the truth in the face of authority, ignoring one's own needs for the sake of seeming peace. In doing so, one is actually giving up one's self and hiding one's true self, rather than expressing one's true self. There is no ignoring the fact that people are dynamic, so we can start over all the time, just as we draw a map that is no longer in the past when the ink is dry. In the vast sea of life, we need a constant course correction, just as we need to adjust the tiller of a sailboat -- first from left to right, then from right to left, between firmness and obstinacy, between flexibility and ease. Until we finally dive beneath the noise of blindness, the mind can navigate for us. ● How flexible or stubborn a person is determines how far we deviate from the path of life's vitality. In your journal, please tell about the most stubborn person you know and the most pliable person you know. Which inner voice are you more likely to listen to for guidance these days? The stubborn you or the pliable you?