If you hear a voice within you say "you cannot paint," then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.
Vincent Van Gogh
Like clouds, like gossamer, like a fleeting thought, Ching's Way of the Web is illusory, temporary, constantly changing, morphing this way and that. The only struggle is with one's own mind that seeks to bring one down in a stupor, unmoving, vegetative, careless, un-free.
No one knows how long a life will be. No one knows how life turns out. One thing is clear, life is full of surprises and the unexpected often is the norm. When danger comes, Life often changes and turns into something else to survive. Life is re-invention.
This is Ching's way, quiet, unobtrusive, patient, a silent witness. The song is in my heart and comes when the air comes, without fanfare, without fireworks, just a quiet song, a secret hymn. Ching's way leaves no trace, no second glances, no regrets. Everything is recycled, even old thoughts and wasted dreams are taken up and renewed.