Tag Archives: Story

When Two Zen Masters Meet. Zen Stories. via Zen Flash

“When two Zen masters meet, whoever speaks first has fallen from his status. Days may pass by; they may

eat together, they may look around at the beauty in the sunset and in the morning and in the starry night,

but nobody is going to say a single word. Not saying a single word and remaining just a mirror…..The

mirror never says anything about the reflection, neither does the lake. The moon may be beautiful, the

moon is reflected the lake should dance with joy. Similar is the case with consciousness. At its ultimate

peak works are left far below, as if you have risen above the clouds. The moment you bring any word in,

you have spoiled the whole communication.

If somebody asks you, “what is truth?”

show him your silence.

Show him your fragrance, show him your love.

Share with him your presence.”

Reblogged on WordPress.com

Source: | Zen Flash on WordPress.com

Tea . A Zen Story; rewritten by Nina Yin / Goodnightnina.

A Buddhist monk who studied and meditated on the teachings of Buddha for over a decade wanted to speak with an enlightened one who dwelled alone in a small temple high in the mountains. He prepared…

Source: Tea . A Zen Story; rewritten by Nina Yin / Goodnightnina.

Story n Poetry; Alive – Nina

Without language and open eyes, Running through a mossy forest I roused out of the bush Into the city. I was curious of the lights through the windowpanes And of the cars and trains, Cityskapes and cranes. I was playful and oblivious; toying with fire. With colorful emotions and with speech… Who is that… Making the onlookers angry with the innocent grins. Concrete playgrounds with monsters and mongrels, Angels and demons. In this City of Sin

Unaware of gifted assistance, I manifested different stories for my journey and an inexplicable imagination good, bad, the ugly, magnificence; Bouncing around the new jungle like a gypsy , Speaking in different tongues And resting my head; wherever suits best. Falling in and out of love. Hope and loss .

Not sure if I was found or lost.

It’s all in the head.




I accidentally took LSD. A non fiction poem. – Nina

Summer night. 2015


I thought it’s “a Zenful day”

Vegetarian sushi 

No sugar or alcohol just the good stuff and it’s a good day

Happy birthday to my baby, make a wish and get it all

She put a tab on her tongue, I didn’t see it at all

Back at home there was something I missed when kissed…

Perfect timing because I just caught the contact high. oh shit…

I didn’t know what I did, I laid down to go to sleep

One hour later, I’m like ” Hold up ” what’s happening to me…

When I took LSD, my synapses align in perfect timing

A slight redesigning and everything started shining

Something is “definitely” happening is what had crossed my mind

No idea what to expect, so I figured I would unwind

I’ve never done this before now how do I relax?

Something calming to the aura, I walked towards the the bath

I took a shower for an hour and she decided to join me

I think this was a good idea. Warming up, disoriented blissful ointments

Kissing her for a few, then the night sky filled with laughter!

We played like we were kids without a worry, ever after

Apparently we were loud enough to wake the whole block

So we retired to the bedroom to chill cuddle and talk

I wasn’t afraid or ashamed, utterly relaxed

Laying on my back, calming Buddhist tracks

Not high or sober, just something new component

Angels in the sky watching over us at each and every moment

An 8 hour meditation instilled with euphoria infatuation

Into the sky and back, wow. Happy birthday to my baby.



Teacup. A zen story.

Ikkyu, the Zen master, was very clever even as a boy. His teacher had a precious teacup, a rare antique. Ikkyu happened to break this cup and was greatly perplexed. Hearing the footsteps of his teacher, he held the pieces of the cup behind him. When the master appeared, Ikkyu asked: “Why do people have to die?”

“This is natural,” explained the older man. “Everything has to die and has just so long to live.”

Ikkyu, producing the shattered cup, added: “It was time for your cup to die.”

Tea . A Zen Story; rewritten by Nina Yin / Goodnightnina.

A Buddhist monk who studied and meditated on the teachings of Buddha for over a decade wanted to speak with an enlightened one who dwelled alone in a small temple high in the mountains. He prepared…

Source: Tea . A Zen Story; rewritten by Nina Vestergaard.

The toy box in my bedroom. A short story. – Nina

Once upon a time, perhaps in another dimension of sorts. Or perhaps an altered reality ( a parallel to the norm which had been departed ). There was a world… it was a dark world like our own although the visions and communications to the mind lay shrouded in an unknown; as to wake up drunk in an amusement park in an abandoned ghost town. All those who enter this realm are intoxicated… euphoric… Or confused.

In this place the laws of physics are often bent, finding oneself transporting from one place to the next. Perhaps flying over the maps of which the reality created unto itself. It is itself; a living and growing place. It’s a place you’ve never been, but you have, faces you’ve never seen but it’s as though a permanent dejavu. Traveling along to its ominous melody.

I find myself in this place often. I climb under the barbed wire and war torn trenches just to see how deep this rabbit hole goes, the blood and destroyed homes visions of viciously broken families. Different tribes that dwell in this place and different spirits.

I’ve seen myself touched by the souls of the dead, although strangling me and taking my breath… killing me, I and only I entrusted with Devine powers to to speak amongst the spiritual realm…and flying across an infinite ocean. I wish I could go back to those times in this place.

This is a violent place, mostly deserted  I have been killed, I’ve killed, had sex many times. I’ve been killed many times in this place and seen life simply placed back into my chest. Leaving me unsure if death is real. There is no contemplation here, too much fog for one to adress mathematics once arrived.

I found myself in horrific post war slums, a child with no parents… There was a mattress and toy box. I’m around 5 years old. As the box opens…I’m not sure exactly what these toys, these memories, they see me, they all see me. You see it was me in the the box. Everything I’ve ever known. In this box. In this place.

When one finds themselves in this place… it can be dangerous. To see light amidst the fog, is… blinding enlightenment, a simple light; it’s as though the heart you use in this place stops beating but… There is no heart. You are always …Gone or missing… One thing is for sure, you are very much: alone.

Of course there is a way out, isn’t there? I think as you are reading this you might be beginning to understand. The subconscious; the infinite abstract of emptiness in form. Not simply the universe seeing itself. Not simply an imaginary delusion of grandiose proportion. That little voice sketched in your head… that lingering feeling in the back of your mind….

Nina… it’s time to wake up…



Survival. – Nina

How lucky can I be.

I’ve survived all I’ve seen.

How many of these streets.

Nights and memories.

I’ve been paralyzed by thought.

Traps that I was caught.

Bleeding in the streets.

Many lessons I was taught.

I escaped unscathed.

My mind bathes in yesterdays.

All the different ways,

That I chose that I would play.

Cityscape playgrounds, money and indulgence.

Self destructive lust, my control was that of nothing.

How many others… survived the jungle traps.

I hope that you’ve all survived.

The things we grew attached.

Mirrors and time. – Nina

An imaginative creature with a desire for adventure, forever in youth.
Years went by…

She looked in that mirror at 13 years old absolutely baffled. It changed everything. “Oh that’s who I am,”. She thought. Eyes wide as the moon shocked in awe. Now I see… A girl is who I am and who I am meant to be.But as most stories go years upon years went by ignoring self in the mirror of time. Dumbfounded by complexities and obstacles to simply finding oneself. She roamed about indulging in indulgence. Schooling in school and working in work. Fulfillment was un-achieved it was simply just work.

Of course there were the slightest attempts to reclaim who she was, where she was going and what she represents. But… Instead of believing in herself she simply listened to others, burying dreams and emotions, tossing them in oceans of acid. Profound sadness eventually madness engulfed her mind absolutely unable to unwind, she left it all…

Luckily for her time allowed the dream so resurface, emerging with profound purpose.

        Seeing the truth in a new light wings grew for a new flight. The wind simply carries as the wind usually does and she grew into something unusually good… The world slowly lifted off of her shoulders and she sees herself in the mirror once again.