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As I ready my color palette and brushes for the blank canvas in front of me titled Year 2020, I want to wish everyone all the best for the adventure that lies ahead. Transitioning today’s milestone, I am reminded of a poem by the wandering Taoist monk, Han Shan:
I climb the road to Cold Mountain, the road to Cold Mountain that never ends.
The valleys are long and strewn with stones; the streams broad and banked with thick grass.
The moss is slippery, though no rain has fallen. Pines sigh, but it is not the wind.
Who can break from the snares of the world and sit with me among the white clouds?
A thousand clouds, ten thousand streams.
Here I live, an idle man,
Roaming green peaks by day,
Back to sleep by cliffs at night.
One by one, springs and autumns go,
Free of heat and dust, my mind.
Sweet to know there’s nothing I need,
Silent as the autumn river’s flood.
