應無所住，而生其心。
無所住，
並非沒有感受，
也不是壓抑情緒，
更不是對世界無動於衷。
而是接納一切。
不拒絕，
不執著，
不佔有，
不抗拒。
歡喜來了，
知道歡喜。
悲傷來了，
知道悲傷。
一切都允許發生，
卻不讓它們成為束縛。
水面會有波紋，
但波紋並不能成為永恆。
荷葉承接水滴，
卻不將水滴留住。
水滴來過，
也離開過。
這便是無住。
不是沒有經歷，
而是不成為經歷的枷鎖。
不是沒有情緒，
而是不把情緒當作真實的自己。
空。
是萬物經過心裡，
卻沒有任何事物，
能夠永遠佔據心裡。
如風過竹林，
竹不留聲。
如雁過寒潭，
潭不留影。
如光穿過樹葉，
照亮大地，
卻不屬於任何一片葉子。
空者，無所住。
無所住者，自在。
—
Kū · Non-Abiding
“Let the mind arise without dwelling anywhere.”
To abide nowhere does not mean feeling nothing.
It is not suppression,
nor indifference.
It is the willingness to receive everything:
without rejection,
without clinging,
without possession,
without resistance.
Joy comes.
You know joy.
Sorrow comes.
You know sorrow.
Everything is allowed to appear,
yet nothing is allowed to imprison the heart.
Ripples arise upon water,
but ripples are not eternal.
A lotus leaf receives a drop of water,
yet does not keep it.
The drop arrives.
The drop departs.
This is non-abiding.
Not the absence of experience,
but freedom from becoming bound by experience.
Not the absence of emotion,
but the understanding that emotion is not the self.
Gain and loss,
honor and disgrace,
come and go.
The heart remains still.
This is emptiness.
Not nothingness,
but a space vast enough
for all things to pass through,
without any one thing remaining forever.
Like wind through bamboo—
no sound retained.
Like wild geese over a cold pond—
no shadow remains.
Like sunlight through leaves—
illuminating all,
belonging to none.
Emptiness is non-abiding.
Non-abiding is freedom.
