The autumn wind.

 Long ago I read a little poem, I think by Buson, and one line was:-

When I speak well of myself and ill of another
The autumn wind chills my lips

Through all of the suffering, the autumn wind often blows. The two seem to go together, which is a theodicy of sorts.

Still reading and absorbing David Hinton's fine book "China Roots". Heavy stuff in a way and yet bringing clarity. Now speaking of the "metaphysical separation" in much Western thought - soul/self and world, a transcendental spirit centre that looks out at the world. Separation.

David Hinton:- In classical Chinese, the separation exists, but there is no metaphysical dimension. Language is not a transcendental realm, and neither is the identity-center. There is a separation, the overcoming of which is the focus of Ch’an practice, but that practice is quite different because there is no metaphysical dimension involved.

And so there is no seeking to be "good", to obey commands, just the autumn wind, which can be welcomed as a friend