One of my fave Buddhist chants goes:
Beings are numberless I vow to save (know) them
Dillusions are inexhaustible, I vow to end them
Dharma Gates are boundless, I vow to enter them
Buddha’s way is unsurpassable, I am not separate from it
So, this bubbled up in me amidst the methodic activity of washing dishes this morning- fulfilling a personal need for comfort like a good meal. I ceased washing dishes a few times, standing still- perplexed by some criticism I had for myself- ranging from worrying whether the mole I cooked was fresh enough to questioning the academic and extra-curricular endeavors I took up during college- when my worrying and criticism really start to build an empire I take it all the way back to the peanut-butter and ritz cracker snack days of kindergarten, when I was unable to let my first crush know that she was my first crush. Sometimes that girl, that ideal past, that unreachable untouchable window-front mirage, wedged in the back of your mind, and fogging your foresight, can be crushing! But ya’ll ready know this!
In Buddhist thought and practice we extend to the max, this possibility- that the self, the fixed one we commonly jump on for being flawed and seemingly stuck in that flawed or broken state, is imagined. Coming to terms with this challenging insight is some hell of a journey, usually not internalized overnight through intense meditation, encountering an Asian Mr. Miyagi like guru, or by attempting asceticism. It is the continual heroic attempt maintain a narrow self-identity while overcoming complexity that is at the heart of suffering, according to Buddhist thought. Developing an awareness for all of the misplaced abused we have enacted, then, is not a concentrated feat of triumph over... (ourselves, our issues), but an honest embrace of what we have invested less time in fully appreciating: what humiliates us, what bores us, what is simply ordinary about us, and so on; thereby dramatically expanding our scope of who we people are and what we are made of as individuals.
When I sing beings are numberless from the heart, I know that beings come in all shapes and sizes, with their own baggage, ingrained perceptions, beliefs, propensities, hurt, and joy. As I follow with delusions are endless, I am reminded that the remedy to my misplaced criticism comes in infinite forms through myriad connections with all people and places, opening myself up to let the whole fucking world in, I step into a Dharma (teaching of liberation) gate, helloooo Buddha Brudda- good to meet you I say as I look into the mirror!
With a bow of gratitude to you who happen to be sharing my writing,
-Abe
Beings are numberless I vow to save (know) them
Dillusions are inexhaustible, I vow to end them
Dharma Gates are boundless, I vow to enter them
Buddha’s way is unsurpassable, I am not separate from it
So, this bubbled up in me amidst the methodic activity of washing dishes this morning- fulfilling a personal need for comfort like a good meal. I ceased washing dishes a few times, standing still- perplexed by some criticism I had for myself- ranging from worrying whether the mole I cooked was fresh enough to questioning the academic and extra-curricular endeavors I took up during college- when my worrying and criticism really start to build an empire I take it all the way back to the peanut-butter and ritz cracker snack days of kindergarten, when I was unable to let my first crush know that she was my first crush. Sometimes that girl, that ideal past, that unreachable untouchable window-front mirage, wedged in the back of your mind, and fogging your foresight, can be crushing! But ya’ll ready know this!
In Buddhist thought and practice we extend to the max, this possibility- that the self, the fixed one we commonly jump on for being flawed and seemingly stuck in that flawed or broken state, is imagined. Coming to terms with this challenging insight is some hell of a journey, usually not internalized overnight through intense meditation, encountering an Asian Mr. Miyagi like guru, or by attempting asceticism. It is the continual heroic attempt maintain a narrow self-identity while overcoming complexity that is at the heart of suffering, according to Buddhist thought. Developing an awareness for all of the misplaced abused we have enacted, then, is not a concentrated feat of triumph over... (ourselves, our issues), but an honest embrace of what we have invested less time in fully appreciating: what humiliates us, what bores us, what is simply ordinary about us, and so on; thereby dramatically expanding our scope of who we people are and what we are made of as individuals.
When I sing beings are numberless from the heart, I know that beings come in all shapes and sizes, with their own baggage, ingrained perceptions, beliefs, propensities, hurt, and joy. As I follow with delusions are endless, I am reminded that the remedy to my misplaced criticism comes in infinite forms through myriad connections with all people and places, opening myself up to let the whole fucking world in, I step into a Dharma (teaching of liberation) gate, helloooo Buddha Brudda- good to meet you I say as I look into the mirror!
With a bow of gratitude to you who happen to be sharing my writing,
-Abe
