Confucius sat outside of the gates of the city, watching visitors arrive. One visitor approached the old man and greeted him with a question:

“Old man, tell me something. What sort of people will I meet in this city?”

Confucius reflected on this for a moment, then asked the traveler, “What sort of people did you meet in the last city you visited?”

“God, that whole city was miserable. The people were rude, and they were mean to strangers, and nobody did anything to make me feel welcome. I’m telling you, people from that city are just plain rotten.”

Confucius shook his head sadly at this tale, and with a heavy heart informed the visitor: “I’m sorry to say this, but that’s the same kind of people you’ll meet in this city, too.”

Hours passed, and Confucius continued to sit outside of the city gates. Another visitor approached him.

“Pardon me, sir, I’m sorry to bother you, but can I ask you a question? Would you mind telling me what sort of people will I meet in this city?”

Confucius asked the second traveler, “What sort of people did you meet in the last city you visited?”

“Oh, that city was wonderful…I hated to leave. The people were so generous, and they were kind to everyone, even strangers, and everyone went out of their way to make me feel welcome. The people from that city were wonderful.”

Confucius nodded happily as he heard these words, then told the visitor with a smile: “Then that’s the same kind of people you’ll meet in this city, too.”

My whole life is mine, but whoever says so
will deprive me, for it is infinite.
The ripple of water, the shade of the sky
are mine; it is still the same, my life.

No desire opens me: I am full,
I never close myself with refusal-
in the rhythm of my daily soul
I do not desire-I am moved;

by being moved I exert my empire,
making the dreams of night real:
into my body at the bottom of the water
I attract the beyonds of mirrors…