Sunday, November 02, 2008

From the cradle to the grave

The process and application of ideas (that is in the personal lives of people) has weighed heavily on my mind of late. We say and mean many things, when relating our feelings and opinions. But what seems to be more relevant is the pattern in which we do these things. I suppose what I'm getting at is ones personality as opposed to ones views. It is an interesting division, since most of us identify ourselves via our perspective. Identity is so often framed and filled by political, philosophical and practical beliefs or experiences. This is obvious, but when we really get to know ourselves and those around us the idiosyncrasies become fascinating. You might come to notice that your political affiliations are really those based in the morality you were raised on. But we might come to notice that our personal life experiences do not jive with the program our parents have entered into our minds. How we are raised and our reactions to that are of such a magnitude that the issue can hardly be avoided. I have previously described this as the software of our evolutionary process. Developed through out the ages by our ancestors and their experiences and reactions to existence. Millions of combination's of genetic characteristics and the software to go with the unit to cause it to work, survive and split off into copies again. If you have the good fortune to come from a large family with good relations and long generational relations you can start to get a look at your own family history and behavioral patterns. The way a person walks, talks, relates to the's amazing. This is the mechanics of living life and that is what really makes it so important. Here is a Zen Buddhist story which brings home the only valuable point there is to life. With out it you might as well have been born a krill or plankton.

A student said to Master Ichu, "Please write for me something of great wisdom." Master Ichu picked up his brush and wrote one word: "Attention." The student said, "Is that all?" The master wrote, "Attention. Attention." The student became irritable. "That doesn't seem profound or subtle to me." In response, Master Ichu wrote simply, "Attention. Attention. Attention." In frustration, the student demanded, "What does this word 'attention' mean?" Master Ichu replied, "Attention means attention."

Being aware may be frightening at first but eventually anything else is ridiculous.

The Buddha also said, "I see... nirvana as a nightmare of daytime."

So the blue or the red pill?

1 comment:

auban said...

This piece links nicely with my Zen poems.

One hand clapping is the amputee applauding war.

We are all amputees...