June 30, 2010 at 2:00 am (Uncategorized)

I seek the calm silence of my mind, only to find that no such silence exists. Thoughts rush frenzied through the pathways of my brain, seeking, seeking….something. They know not what they seek, nor if they will find it. Yet they fly on, into the night, past the silvery moon that glistens in the background. Mist fills the air, and the sky is damp. Anticipation crackles in the moonlight. Dreams flit silently through a wood, never leaving more than a faint wisp to mark their passing. In my mind the autumn wind continues its meandering route. The summer wind keeps alive the grandeur of an age gone by. The spring breeze calls to the future. And the winter wind, barely felt, whispers death.

In my mind there lies a tapestry of color and beauty, of what was once and what will be. There lies a hidden picture in the hues of love and despair, of fantasy and reality. The picture is the shape of the universe, of life unfolding and the timeless ebb and flow of existence.

When we dream, do we awaken to a more real existence, or do we merely catch a glimpse at the darkest corners of our mind? Perhaps not always the darkest corners, though those certainly exist. Instead, perhaps, we view the farthest corners of our mind, sometimes beautiful, other times terrifying, and as with many things almost always in between. What is the mind? Is it an organism to itself? A conduit for the soul, the keeper of such a thing, if it exists? Is it merely the images formed by electric signals randomly flying through spongy flesh? I, of course, do not have the answers. Some of us may, but I remain unconvinced that many do.

The mind, in buddhism, is the coalition of our senses. It is sight, touch, hearing, smell, taste. It is also something else. Consciousness, being. It is who we are and who we are not. Nothing is eternal. I will too pass from this world, in my current state, and one day be a piece of many other processes which will be pieces of many processes until the end of existence. Enlightenment is not sitting under the tree and looking for some grand notion that will explain the universe. Nirvana, instead, is the capability to see. See reality as it is instead of what we want it to be, truth instead of the lies we tell ourselves to make us feel better. The chair is not a chair, it is you, and you are the chair. It is made of atoms which are spaced apart. So there really is empty space where you feel the chair. Then again, we are all made of atoms, so we are all threads in the tapestry of existence.

I think that when we dream, we get a brief look at the tapestry. Not as we see it woven in our small location but perhaps the weave of a larger piece, and perhaps occasionally the entire thing. It seems odd to us, but somehow everything makes sense when we are asleep.

Existence is fickle, but only if you choose to believe in permanence. It seems contradictory, but if you see that everything is merely a pathway to another thing, you know that everything is eternal exactly because nothing is eternal. Time is flowing, and we are just drops in the current.

RIP Uncle Randy.


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