Zaw Zaw Aung - Art without art

Moon King's gift

Once upon a time. I heard this. A monk was meditating alone in a forest. He lived in a small hut at the foot of a forest, far from people. One day, a thief came to that small hut. He was looking for something to steal. There was nothing in the hut. By property, let alone valuables. A bowl, three robes. Very little food is the hallmark of a monk. Still frustrated because there was nothing to steal, the monk returned and confronted the thief. He could not run away. The monk had come a long way to reach this remote place. He said, "I will take only my robes and body, so that you will not get anything." Half in shock, half in surprise, the thief was speechless. Rob, He said, "Take it away." The thief took his clothes and ran away. The saint was left alone. It was night. The saint looked up at the sky... and the silver moon was shining brightly above the sky. Then the saint... said one word. "Poor me, Bhikkhu, if it were possible, I would give you this moon..." he said. This is the story I heard.

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I have only met Venerable Wai Bu Sayadaw once. My wife’s parents and relatives were close to him. It is said that the Sayadaw used to take turns in three places: Kyaukse Wai Bu Chaung, Shwebo Aung Myay San Kyaung and Inkyin Pin Tawar. I once heard an incident from an old man who was passing through the news at Shwebo Aung Myay San Kyaung. One night, while the Sayadaw was alone in the basement of the San Kyaung, a thief came in. The Sayadaw looked up and then looked down. The thief also came in, removed the large clock from a nearby pole and ran away. The Sayadaw found out, but did nothing to stop him. One day, when the monks found out about this incident, they started talking, complaining, and complaining. The Sayadaw said... This is what he said. “The clock is not our property, so please take it...” - he said. The abbot often addresses himself as "Vya, Vya" (Virgin, Virgin) when speaking to laypeople. The meaning is that he saw a thief stealing a watch. He did not stop him. It means that the watch is not "my property". It is not easy to understand the meaning of the phrase "not mine, not my property, not my property". It is not easy for me. I do not know how long it will take for me to truly understand that it is not my property.

Zaw Zaw Aung has a Cross pen. It is 22 carats, which is very good. It is a pen that a student has already given to him. He also has a Giordano sports shirt. He also has a female student has already given to him. He also has a Parker pen that a Mon villager has given to him when he returned. He has 14 pieces of U Jamlong-ki that his daughter and son-in-law bought for him. He also has a Mandalay North Pyin Maha Pla silk long-ki that the two of them wore at their wedding. He has many postmodern books that a student and a friend from Germany sent him. These are Zaw Zaw Aung’s things. No one will ask for them. He will not give them to anyone. These are Zaw Zaw Aung’s things. He will not give them to anyone. The great me, Zaw Zaw Aung, is still there.

Thida Kyi Lei and the bird's song

The snow has stopped falling on the cape, and the pearls are shining. It is dark in the forest. In that darkness, there is white. At the edge of the forest, the raindrops are all scattered and scattered. The sky is clear and clear. Write ten thousand yeses and nos on pieces of paper and float them in the stream. At the riverbank, the flowerbed is covered with yellow ribbons, and he will come with a million charms. The top of the elephant is blue, and the bamboo shoots are covered with dew drops. Ask Htoo to sing a song. My dearest friends will come. My friend who is hesitant to answer me will come. Is he shy? The happy peacock brought a bottle of white wine from the white lotus. We will celebrate happily. Let's sing in unison. Aung Se, Paing Se, Nai Se, Paung Baung, Udang Nge Saung.... Aung Khin Gyi can't sing. They all join in. If the voices increase, they will be harmonious. I won't say anything. Nanda Resa Wun Rang Kha, Wun Ka, Shwe Man Taung Taw Tha, Oh... San Pa Hla, Myan Nang Watin Tha, Oh Le San Pa Myan, Man Lay Dhani, Tay Lay Shwe Pyi, Pong Ma Way Bu is almost here, Myat Naung Nyi... Thakin Nyunt Thwey, let's all sing. The beautiful and splendid arrangement flows smoothly. In the river of convenience, the red and blue flowers of the daisies float. When the school opens, the daisies are also scattered on the ground, Along with the kankaw flowers, The place where we will meet him... Will we meet him? I will tell you how much I miss him during the days we have been apart. A smile appears on the teardrop. We will write new pages with tears and laughter. We will carry new sentences, new sentence patterns and new meanings. There is a velvet statue in the palace of the King of Kyaukphyu. Does it look like him? There is stubbornness in his bright eyes. They come with the sound of waves from the sea. The leaves are rustling in the wind. On the green grass and the small hill, yellow chrysanthemums are spread. Poems? Poets? Hopes? Agreements? Near the kankaw tree, there is a blue-flowered sedge. Those who have come from a long way, let the rain purify them and change into fresh and warm clothes. The mist that has been covering the surface of the lake has disappeared, so the colors are like pearls.

It's shining. The mood of the festival is swirling like magnetic particles in my heart. Sing. Clap your hands, play. Open it with a cool key. You will see a grand, wide, unpretending, profound, and deep melody. The index word and the index word are in harmony. No matter how the constructionists object to the necessary meaning, that necessary meaning can be given. The grammar is not yet destroyed. The sentence structure is not yet destroyed. If it is destroyed, we will write with new grammar and new sentence structure. I love you so much, my dear. I will tell you about my love for you at the festival. A new language, a new grammar, and finally a new poem will be composed. In that poem, there will be a white language. There will be a lot of yellow scents. There will be a lot of blue sounds. There will be a lot of purple touches. There will be a lot of pink flavors. Write a thousand words on scraps of paper, and let them float in the current of the cycle. What a shadow I find in the bright eyes. The hands of a kind mother are slender and gentle. Let's write poetry, compose songs, let's celebrate the AQUARIUS festival. The sky is blue without clouds. In the sky.. The moon train, moving slowly. We will soon reach our beloved...

No. 127, May 22, 2002