SydneyJim<p><a href="https://body.social/tags/ZenBuddhism" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>ZenBuddhism</span></a> doesn’t treat <a href="https://body.social/tags/Nature" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>Nature</span></a> as ‘other’ or as metaphor. Mountains are teachers. Trees are scriptures. Wind is breath. The path is not found — it is walked, barefoot, skin touching earth, mind touching sky. To live <a href="https://body.social/tags/ZenBuddhism" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>ZenBuddhism</span></a> is to live <a href="https://body.social/tags/Nature" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>Nature</span></a>. To sit still under a tree is not a retreat — it’s homecoming. In the stillness of forests, the rush of rivers, the howl of wind — the truth of <a href="https://body.social/tags/ZenBuddhism" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>ZenBuddhism</span></a> is always whispering.</p><p>And in that whisper, everything is already <a href="https://body.social/tags/awakened" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">#<span>awakened</span></a>. (19/19)</p>