Half a Lifetime of Misty Rain, My Beloved Jiuhua

Some say the taste of rain is the taste of life. It feels even more so when you are in Jiuhua Mountain. Sleeping in a bamboo study, listening to the rain, in dreams long moss grows. Rain falls across the vast sky, splashing on every brick and tile, picking up countless thoughts, separating the turmoil of the world. The mountain is still and serene by nature, and from stillness arises wisdom. Thoughts fall like rain, returning to the truest self, hidden within the sound of the rain. In the distance, there is a pond of new lotus. Though no fish play among the leaves, a breeze carries the moist fragrance of lotus. In the distant future, it will still open the joy of this moment, gently rising. The tea mist mingles with the mountain rain, echoing the clouds and mist of the hillside. On the tongue, it becomes a mountain in the water, painting countless landscapes in the heart. Clouds and water are impermanent—why call them the heart of Zen? Just as the veins of a mountain spring mark the abundance of rain, the purity of Jiuhua Mountain lies in seeing the subtle at heights, a transparent heart that reflects without obstruction and rises and falls with fate. Amid the misty rain of Jiuhua Mountain, there is always an invisible force that draws countless people to it. Through the ages, it has bloomed as a paradise for hermits, unleashed the poetic passions of scholars, and stirred the courage of warriors. The misty rain has changed for a thousand years, just like the myriad tastes of life. When Buddhist chants sound in the ears, when incense dust falls, Jiuhua Mountain never dims its radiance, still as when first seen.