The Sound of One Hand

"Two hands clap and there is a sound. What is the sound of one hand?"
Hakuin Ekaku

Another enigmatic koan. It is like an impenetrable stone. I can only skip it across the water and observe the ripples left in its wake.

No one else’s answer will do. I have to find my own. I meditated on it, and now I run with it.

Towards the end of my route the trees and plants seem to urge me on. They extend their blessing of life. I feel like reaching out to touch them. At the very least, I lose the instinct to move away from their swaying arms.

A leaf brushes against my forehead and reminds me of that part of my face. Where was my face without the leaf?

Overgrown native grasses line the side of the track. A long spiky blade scratches my leg.

“Stay away.” 

Was that my voice? The refrain seems to repeat from both my leg and the prickly plants. How could it occur without either?

I spot another person on the track. My identity comes vehemently to the fore; self-conscious and insecure. The questions are lost. But then one comes with a sense of significance.

What am I without the other?

 

_{Photo from Wikipedia}