There is a big difference between having a thought, and being capable of having that thought.
There is an even bigger difference between doing something and being capable of doing something.
Intelligence is something, but it is not everything. History rewards those who take action.
Therefore, one should seek to maintain thoughts that accord with values, words that accord with thoughts, and deeds that accord with words.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
There is only Tao
I felt it, however briefly. A shimmering neon blackness. Utterly devoid of thoughts, emotions and being.
It welcomed me, like an old friend. Familiar.
Ah, it is only the shortest glimpse I get. How many layers of garbage I have! They block this beauty that lies deep within me. Like the golden Buddha, covered in protective clay, we have a shimmering preciousness inside that, when set free, is more powerful and complete than the person we could be without it.
The vanity we cling to obscures this force. It forces us to carry more masks than we need to wear.
I still maintain that some masks can be necessary. And, on some level, the wearing and shedding of the masks is fun. In improv comedy, I invent and destroy characters with such rapidity that their having existed at all amuses me. Similarly, in a packed day, that might include a trip to a store, a conversation with family, hanging out with friends, and meeting new people at a party, I might wear many masks, and at the end of such a day, I feel satisfied with the quantity that I have lived.
I need to have a strong center to maintain a steady rotation of masks. Without that, I become confused, and think that I am the mask. The center comes from regularly cleaning the mind of the remnants of the masks, so that the Tao can be found, and the silent observer can view one's actions with clarity.
When I view my life through the silent observer's lens, I am not overwhelmed by challenges, I don't cling to my thoughts, and I experience every emotion so fully and completely that they all feel like different forms of bliss.
It welcomed me, like an old friend. Familiar.
Ah, it is only the shortest glimpse I get. How many layers of garbage I have! They block this beauty that lies deep within me. Like the golden Buddha, covered in protective clay, we have a shimmering preciousness inside that, when set free, is more powerful and complete than the person we could be without it.
The vanity we cling to obscures this force. It forces us to carry more masks than we need to wear.
I still maintain that some masks can be necessary. And, on some level, the wearing and shedding of the masks is fun. In improv comedy, I invent and destroy characters with such rapidity that their having existed at all amuses me. Similarly, in a packed day, that might include a trip to a store, a conversation with family, hanging out with friends, and meeting new people at a party, I might wear many masks, and at the end of such a day, I feel satisfied with the quantity that I have lived.
I need to have a strong center to maintain a steady rotation of masks. Without that, I become confused, and think that I am the mask. The center comes from regularly cleaning the mind of the remnants of the masks, so that the Tao can be found, and the silent observer can view one's actions with clarity.
When I view my life through the silent observer's lens, I am not overwhelmed by challenges, I don't cling to my thoughts, and I experience every emotion so fully and completely that they all feel like different forms of bliss.
There is no Tao
Existence. Anti-existence.
What can be the meaning of a life that can be snuffed out so easily?
Is it because we are out of balance somehow that we die?
Can I exist in perfect harmony with the Tao? Or am I prone to mistakes, errors that lead me astray?
The Tao is easy, yet people prefer the side paths. Why are we so tempted?
At the end of a big meal, I sometimes feel like taking more food. Why? I am no longer hungry. The food may not even be something that I crave. I feel obligated somehow. Perhaps, I think, the memory of this bite might bring me happiness.
Without meditation and contemplation, my life dissolves into a miserable, desire-seeking existence.
When I meditate and contemplate existence and non-existence, I can immediately appreciate my surroundings, and, further, come to grips with the cyclical nature of life. Things begin, and things end, and I am content.
I will not be pushing for that extra bite tomorrow.
What can be the meaning of a life that can be snuffed out so easily?
Is it because we are out of balance somehow that we die?
Can I exist in perfect harmony with the Tao? Or am I prone to mistakes, errors that lead me astray?
The Tao is easy, yet people prefer the side paths. Why are we so tempted?
At the end of a big meal, I sometimes feel like taking more food. Why? I am no longer hungry. The food may not even be something that I crave. I feel obligated somehow. Perhaps, I think, the memory of this bite might bring me happiness.
Without meditation and contemplation, my life dissolves into a miserable, desire-seeking existence.
When I meditate and contemplate existence and non-existence, I can immediately appreciate my surroundings, and, further, come to grips with the cyclical nature of life. Things begin, and things end, and I am content.
I will not be pushing for that extra bite tomorrow.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
Purpose and Pushing
What is purpose?
We, humans, need something, a reason, not to survive - we can do that and barely exist at all - but to push.
We could simply float, coast on a draft, maybe one that is stirred by someone else, who has purpose. This requires no purpose. This requires no thought.
But humans are not content with this existence. This is stagnation. We mold and decay without working, without pushing.
We need to push. It works on our beings as exercise does on our bodies. It tones, sharpens, and clarifies existence.
I feel vaguely guilty when I haven't worked, really strained in a while. Not to some external party, like parental figures, but to myself. I feel that I owe myself more with my life. I, in the present, am forever indebted to my future self. I am his bondslave, and I work for his fulfillment.
What will he deem my purpose to be? What would set me free?
I, in the future, would assuredly release myself from this method of thinking. I feel that the answers that that I holds lie at the end of an entirely different route of thoughts.
I know that what I need is not more work. Pushing in every direction yields little result. I need a concentration of effort. And for that I need clarity, not of my own existence - I seem to have come to terms with that quite well - I need clarity of my purpose.
How can I gain clarity of purpose without becoming too attached to a desire? Is a purpose a desire in disguise?
Would a Tao master seek his purpose, or take comfort in not knowing his purpose?
I have heard some gurus expound on the difference of the desire to be one with God from other desires, that the desire for God is a sort of divine desire. But even this does not quite ring true for me.
I feel that I should seek out the true nature of reality, simply because it is what is. If that is not worth knowing, then what is?
We, humans, need something, a reason, not to survive - we can do that and barely exist at all - but to push.
We could simply float, coast on a draft, maybe one that is stirred by someone else, who has purpose. This requires no purpose. This requires no thought.
But humans are not content with this existence. This is stagnation. We mold and decay without working, without pushing.
We need to push. It works on our beings as exercise does on our bodies. It tones, sharpens, and clarifies existence.
I feel vaguely guilty when I haven't worked, really strained in a while. Not to some external party, like parental figures, but to myself. I feel that I owe myself more with my life. I, in the present, am forever indebted to my future self. I am his bondslave, and I work for his fulfillment.
What will he deem my purpose to be? What would set me free?
I, in the future, would assuredly release myself from this method of thinking. I feel that the answers that that I holds lie at the end of an entirely different route of thoughts.
I know that what I need is not more work. Pushing in every direction yields little result. I need a concentration of effort. And for that I need clarity, not of my own existence - I seem to have come to terms with that quite well - I need clarity of my purpose.
How can I gain clarity of purpose without becoming too attached to a desire? Is a purpose a desire in disguise?
Would a Tao master seek his purpose, or take comfort in not knowing his purpose?
I have heard some gurus expound on the difference of the desire to be one with God from other desires, that the desire for God is a sort of divine desire. But even this does not quite ring true for me.
I feel that I should seek out the true nature of reality, simply because it is what is. If that is not worth knowing, then what is?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)