Life is never going to be, fundamentally, any different than it is right now. You may have some days that are easier, some that are harder, and some that make you wonder whether living is worth it at all. We crave the first kind, thinking wrongly that ease and pleasure are the point. I have come to doubt that. The vast majority of my suffering originates in thinking that my real life is waiting somewhere, that it is a destination that can be found far away from the pain. And when do I arrive at this wonderful place anyway? Is it when the bills are paid up, my knees dont hurt, and the people who have wronged me feel awful? How about right after I make love, or eat a great meal? Even there, the ghost of impermanence lurks about, whispering that soon this too will be gone. My abode, and it is far from finished, is the place from which I never need to run. It is a holy place that neither building nor word can house, that no god can anoint and no demon foul. It is the one light that I am and the one place where I can rest easy until the light is gone, welcoming the pain and the pleasure equally, and turning away from nothing.
Posted on: Sun, 16 Nov 2014 18:21:33 +0000
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