Someone gave me wishes and I wished for an embrace.
And I had not much of a voice. I didn't play that great guitar either.
I couldn't feel so I learned to touch.
The art of longing's over, and it's never coming back.
The term clinical depression finds its way into too many conversations these days. One has a sense that a catastrophe has occurred in the psychic landscape.
This particular school of Zen has always considered itself the Marines of the spiritual world, so it has a kind of bias against conceptual thinking in favor of a very rigorous physical life.