A thing in motion is an only reed swaying in the wind.
Things I can hear are only a rustling sound of the reed, a rhythm of water run down from marsh to river, a song of red-crowned crane and a sound of cloud that I cannot hear no matter how hard I strain.
I almost never paddle. I just put the paddle into the water for directional correction. I am swept downstream so quietly. I just take in the ever-changing view of the bank reed grows gregariously. I just feel the space existing there.
There is no difference between, I am on the ground, I am on the water or I am in the universe. There is no difference between, my existence is tiny or the universe is tiny. There is no difference between, a thing I experienced is the last corner I paddled through or a thing I experienced is the corner I see ahead.