That line stopped me. The old man's whole life is in it.
Buddhist teachers sometimes describe this as the difference between holding and touching. The man held the books, kept them pristine, treated them as objects to possess. The child touched them, drew on them, built castles. One was contact. The other was ownership.
There's a word in Zen for what the boy had: shoshin, beginner's mind. Not knowing the "right" way to treat a book, he couldn't do it wrong. The grandfather knew exactly how books should be treated, and that knowledge kept him at arm's length.
"He may read them, or maybe not. It would still be enough." That line feels like the whole teaching.
"Talked about reading them, one day."
That line stopped me. The old man's whole life is in it.
Buddhist teachers sometimes describe this as the difference between holding and touching. The man held the books, kept them pristine, treated them as objects to possess. The child touched them, drew on them, built castles. One was contact. The other was ownership.
There's a word in Zen for what the boy had: shoshin, beginner's mind. Not knowing the "right" way to treat a book, he couldn't do it wrong. The grandfather knew exactly how books should be treated, and that knowledge kept him at arm's length.
"He may read them, or maybe not. It would still be enough." That line feels like the whole teaching.
What do you keep pristine by never touching?
Please write an article on shoshin. I want to understand it better
I used to keep my books pristine. Now I don't that any more. They have my thoughts scribbled all over the margins..