Practicing in art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You’ll get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
Before, the river had not wanted to be in touch with the true nature of things. It had only wanted to be in touch with birth and death. Now that it had been in touch with the vault of the sky, it became very peaceful and quiet. … Now the river felt the special joy of equanimity. It was not partial to any particular cloud or in the grip of any particular cloud. It could enjoy being with and reflecting every cloud that came through the sky. When a cloud left, the river said, “Goodbye. See you soon,” and it felt a very light heart.