Category Archives: Stories

Zen Stories : The Gift of Insults

There once lived a great warrior. Though quite old, he still was able to defeat any challenger. His reputation extended far and wide throughout the land and many students gathered to study under him.

One day an infamous young warrior arrived at the village. He was determined to be the first man to defeat the great master. Along with his strength, he had an uncanny ability to spot and exploit any weakness in an opponent. He would wait for his opponent to make the first move, thus revealing a weakness, and then would strike with merciless force and lightning speed. No one had ever lasted with him in a match beyond the first move.

Much against the advice of his concerned students, the old master gladly accepted the young warrior’s challenge. As the two squared off for battle, the young warrior began to hurl insults at the old master. He threw dirt and spit in his face. For hours he verbally assaulted him with every curse and insult known to mankind. But the old warrior merely stood there motionless and calm. Finally, the young warrior exhausted himself. Knowing he was defeated, he left feeling shamed.

Somewhat disappointed that he did not fight the insolent youth, the students gathered around the old master and questioned him. “How could you endure such an indignity? How did you drive him away?”

“If someone comes to give you a gift and you do not receive it,” the master replied, “to whom does the gift belong?”

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Story of Buddha by Nina Yin

“The importance of oneself.

Should not be important at all.

In essence we are natural.

But natural is not our essence

Until we are enlightened”

-Nina

 

Buddha’s mother couldn’t get pregnant, one night she had a dream, visited by an elephant carrying a lotus, the elephant touched the side of her stomach.

The Queen was pregnant.

After Buddha’s birth he was taken to a guru.

Born into a royal family

Saddat (Buddha)  was to be a ruling king that the world had never seen….or a holy man (The Buddha) said the Guru.

His father tried desperately to hide the truth for many years, wishing he would never see suffering, and forever was to be indulging him in Luxury.

Saddat lived luxurious for many years but needed to find enlightenment, to understand his questions of life not found in self indulgence.

Saddat ran from the castle, his family and wealth.

He shaved his head and lived in homelessness.

-In Buddhism: Peace is found in poverty and without worldly things.-

After countless years of different practices and teachings.

Starving oneself for many years, practicing ancient rituals and studying….

Saddat took up starving oneself, thinking the key to enlightenment was to be without anything human to need nothing…

….he became but a skeleton…

His eyes deep in his skull like a light at a bottom of a dark well.

This was not the way.

Saddat was the most malnourished, deep in this practice.

But one day.

He got up from meditation.

He was given rice porridge by a woman walking by.

The others were shocked and exclaimed “Saddat loves luxury!”

Ashamed of him, but.

Buddha realized

There is good, in our lives, good that we need and is important.

Under a the boddhi tree sat meditating.

The Sun moved through the sky but the shadow of his tree did not move, the tree kept him comfortable,

He touched the ground connected with the universe and unto Buddha he became.

People from all over sought his teachings.

He taught for many more years to his disciples.

Noble truths,

compassion

and the way

enlightenment.

 

“It’s time for me to go”. He exclaimed.

“I will be in Nirvana”.

*Enlightened*, placing his hand to the earth.

leaving his teachings behind.

Forever.

-Nina Yin

 

With the Flow: Zen Stories

imagesA Taoist story tells of an old man who accidentally fell into the river rapids leading to a high and dangerous waterfall.

Onlookers feared for his life.

Miraculously, he came out alive and unharmed downstream at the bottom of the falls.

People asked him how he managed to survive…

“I accommodated myself to the water, not the water to me.

Without thinking, I allowed myself to be shaped by it. Plunging into the swirl, I came out with the swirl.

This is how I survived.”

 

-Zen Story

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Zen Samurai -Poetry of war. By Nina Yin

Meditation on inevitable death should be performed daily, once ones body and mind are at peace; they should imagine being ripped apart by arrows, swords, and spears.

Being thrown off thousand foot cliffs, dying of disease, or commuting seppuku at the deaths of one’s master.

One should consider themselves as dead..

-Hagakure

Why should I be afraid to face anything, death….

Here and now I stand strong as myrtle trees. In depth in the substance of the way.

Although tyrant treachery stands to my face clutching weapons; I have nothing to hide nor fear… with weapons of my own.

Do not attest to who and what I am before I eclipse your mind into the nothingness in which we came from.

You cannot acclimate to this level of which you I fear not; devil in the midst, you make me laugh as I draw my sword.

Like an olden tax collector in Roman times you harass the poor and underprivileged. You disgrace the city we worked so hard to rise.

I didn’t know it was tax collection day….

I cut you down at dawn and watch the sunrise twinkle in your pool of blood, wiping my blade on your Babylonian uniform.

Bowing unto your rotting flesh.

-Nina

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Downtown Eastside Vancouver (Nina Yin Street Videography) /Night Traps by Ashes of Purgatory

The streets of Vancouver tell millions of stories, good and bad. This day was an incredibly dark day of my life and has lurking memories attached with it, I could have easily overdosed or been taken advantage of in the making of this short film. Night Traps by Ashes of Purgatory / my best friend recorded this with me at Deluca sound Lab, he was living in the Sun Ah projects while I was hustling and had taken far too much substance 911 was eventually called but this footage was taken right up to that point. Night Traps. Street photography / cinematography. Vancouver’s downtown east side. A dark day.

Myself: Part. 2*

I can’t believe I’m mustering up to write some sort of bio. Feels fucking weird….

I think writing about yourself in depth; story form, is kind of… narcissistic. But I’m a hip hop artist so perhaps I’ve already gone there… *laughs out loud*

I could remember starting up rap battling ciphers in elementary school. On the school field, upscale neighborhood acting tough with no account and if you weren’t droppings rhymes you didn’t have privilege so bounce! (I still got it lol).

I had a girlfriend in elementary school that could pass for 22… Far more grown up than I was, it’s like she took me under her wing. I was standing hardly 5’2 with the most gorgeous girl in school. I loved her but our relationship was a fool 😉 . Ing* around time flies when your high as a kite tripping with her every night, eventually we both moved on. She went off to a private school…. lost touch completely.

Meanwhile I bounced around high school public educational facilities like it was a special ability. I learned so much!!!!! How to fight, hustle, party, skate, play ball, joyride, go bombing (paint graffiti), know my way around a city of 4 million like the back of my hand…..amoung many other things that went hand in hand with blunts, coronas, and tequila.

I managed to not get involved with crack or guns, meth and heroin. Although I often spent time in what is often referred to as the world’s largest open drug market. Now looking back… I’ve lost a lot of friends to this city and I cry about it quite often.

I can’t write anymore right now.

Too hard.

 

 

Nina

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Dreams.

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I dream every night. It’s like I don’t sleep; I’m far to busy venturing rivers and streams, painting graffiti on infinite trains.

My dreams are what dreams are made of. My mind is the money so my vacation is paid up.

Tropical paradises on every turn. I’ve never seen so many gorgeous baby blue pools with pearls twirling my world.

I can fly if I want to and explore. I’m getting good, in fact I’m better than Peter pan. Taking off is tricky but I always land.

My dreams have music so I wake up singing with love. Lyrics that no conscious mind could think of.

My dreams have more amusing amusement parks than Californi and Dubai put together. My subconscious really got her shit together.

I have nightmares worst than Steven kings, but I’ve been into horror flicks since I was a kid.

But this is real time 3d and if it’s too deep I wake up n have some tea.

I dream.

Every.

Single.

Night.

I get lost in pitch black in my bed on a trip LSD couldn’t bring to light.

I get to live past futures; in surreal movements, clearer than glass to my mind when it computes it.

But my minds far more complex. More convex it sees more than I can comprehend.

How many times I saw the end or woke up to a new beginning, open my eyes and the rooms spinning,

Damn I’m dizzy that was trippy.

What were those lyrics I heard angels signings?

I turn the light on.

I got the light, write before it’s gone.

Pick up a pen and write down this midnight song.

 

-Nina

 

Seen in L.A. / Los Angeles Graffiti

sternrockwell's avatarStreets Are Saying Things

 Seen has been painting for over 30 years, and is best known as the ‘Godfather of Graffiti‘. He is one of the hardest working men in the business, and the mark that Seen has leaves will be forever. Recently spotted on the blog ORDINARYMADNESS86 are picts of Seen in action doing his thing. Long before stenciling and wheat paste graffiti, there was the activity of Writing on New York City’s trains, and Seen was one of the pioneers of this activity which later to be penned ‘Graffiti’.

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