Walking Busily Among the Shaking Things

Streetlights sway, clouds drift rapidly, constantly changing their form. Even the tree standing in the heart of the city seems loosely rooted. When the wind sweeps by, the tree simply surrenders its body. Through this scene, people walk busily, as if they must not stop—as if they cannot even pause their thoughts. Everything on the path is shaking, yet we walk forward, trusting it.

Life, perhaps, is merely a velocity passing through that trembling landscape. The road, the streetlight, the car, the tree, the cloud, the wind, time, and myself—is there anything among these that is truly fixed?

I use various colors to paint, capture forms, and compose the canvas, yet a sudden question arises: What, truly, is the original nature of all these things? Original nature has no light, no color, and no form. Nevertheless, I must paint something. And I have no choice but to paint. The act of reflecting my heart and transferring what I saw, just as it is—that is my spiritual practice, my painting, and my way of navigating this city now.