summer 2014 - reflections of the rising sun

river stroll horizons,
shimmering clarity
of ceaseless rippling
through heart streams.

memories of sunsets,
sweet smells of desire,
how false this breeze
we drifting vessels.

orbs and rotations,
toil and games,
questions of what lies
beyond--

where comes this ego?
loves and attachments
soft lips smiling,
where does it all go?

known it for long,
and know it we still
cycles of suffering,
and the golden path.

cessation of yearning.
or drown again,
and again,
in ceaseless, ceaseless ripples.



A stone's throw away from Marshall's pad there is a river stream, and there we spent a considerable amount of time. We dipped our feet in the water, gazed upon its mesmerizing ripples, and conversed along the river's edge.

It's called the Ota River and forms from little streams stretching down from the nearby mountain horizon. It flows through farm lands, small towns, temples and shrines, eventually spilling out into the Pacific Ocean. Sporadically, other groups of friends, couples and families would come to the river as well, swimming and fishing in it. Grey herons and white egrets can be seen standing and flying serenely over this river. The water is so clear, that on a sunny day you could see, as if through pristine glass, the shimmering details of the deepest rocks and the fish darting about within.

This little river was an absolute wonder to me, as it has been too for Marsh all the months he's lived here. And even more wondrous, were the same clear and unpolluted streams found all throughout the Japanese towns and cities we traveled to. They ran along streets and sidewalks, and were home to a healthy diversity of animal and plant-life. On the surface, you could say that Japan is very clean. But the significance of this cleanliness conveys a deeper reflection of Japanese society as a whole. A care towards their natural environment, a spiritual tradition towards local temples and shrines, and a social order towards each other.

Four consecutive months in South-East Asia has revealed to me many things. Of these experiences, I'll draw out only a small slice: There is an island in the Perhentians which attracts a lot of tourists. It is not uncommon to hear the words “Paradise on Earth” to describe these islands, and indeed, the natural wonder to be found there is beyond words. However, there is a blatant problem on this island. They seem to have no environmentally responsible recycling system in place. Some of the plastic waste is gathered up in heaping piles, the rest is tossed carelessly into the jungle away from the beach. Anything that is not plastic, they'll burn at night.

In particular, there is a stagnant body of water on this island, and it stews behind the beach-front resorts. This body of water used to be a river. It is now covered in plastic bottles and other trash. The water itself is thick and sickly green with rotten algae, chemicals and other pollutants which exhume a grotesque stench with every gust of wind. It is an infected open-wound upon nature's very surface and I can feel my own revolt rising as I gaze upon it. I also see the same disgust on the faces of others who pass by. Yet the locals either don't have the knowledge, or the resources to deal with such an issue, and the tourists are in “Paradise on Earth.” They've earned the money, carved out the time, and are now in full escape from the worries of everyday life. The British phrase that I hear all too often comes to mind; “I simply can't be bothered.”

For the first week of my stay on the Perhentians, I would walk by this vile body of green water a handful of times a day, and each time I found myself agitated. A voice within myself was telling me that this was wrong, this smell was off, and that this must be stopped. I'll be honest however, and sadly admit that after a week, I too got used to the poisoned body of water as a part of the everyday reality of this place. Like the locals, I became habituated, my mind drifted towards other, more selfish concerns, and like the tourists, I wasn't 'bothered' anymore. In hindsight, there is not much that I could have done in that situation to make a true and lasting impact. The feeling of agitation that I felt was a construct of my mind; my own thoughts and desires in relation to the external world.

To break it down more clearly; the act of imposing one's own desires on the external world will only lead to suffering. This is due to three reasons: 1) All conditioned things are impermanent, therefore, anything that is external to ourselves, is ever-changing. 2) In yearning to change that which is external into something of our own desire, is an attempt to mold it into something we think to be permanent and attainable; this is an impossibility. 3) This impossible process leads us to experience impermanence as a conflicting force against our own precious egos, thus creating personal suffering. In the example of the polluted water on the Perhentians, the first point naturally applies. A few hundred years ago, this river was not polluted by industrial waste. That same area of land may have been just rocks and tall grass, and at some point, under the sea. A few thousand years from now is also speculation; the toxic pool may be cleaned, it may get worse, the oceans may dry up, or everything floods beneath turbulent waves once again. Stardust shifting ceaselessly upon stardust.

The second point is where a voice comes in, an ego with attachments and desires. It was telling me that the existence of this disgusting pollution was wrong. That I should do something about it-- to make the world around me a better place, lest I be weighed down by a heavy, guilty conscience at having either contributed, or stood by complacent while something horrible was happening. It was a voice that was willing me to enforce my opinion on something external of myself. My desire to change something that I saw was 'wrong', into something that I felt was 'right'. What I didn't fully realize at the time, was that when it comes to the ambivalence of nature and reality as it is, these thoughts don't weigh as much as I think they do. To take it upon myself to dive into the green sludge and pull out each and every water bottle would have been an ineffective and impermanent folly. To attempt to set up a long-term recycling system with locals and government is outside of my qualifications and not reasonable within the very short time-span that I wished to spend on that touristy island. Aside from complaining about it, reducing my own waste or calling attention to it with locals, it was entirely a situation which I could not make a tangible and lasting impact. It was an external condition, like so many things in the world-- outside of my control, and to allow it to weigh so heavily on myself, would have been adding an extra layer of complication to my cognitive process. An additional layer of worry and guilt which removes me further from the essential acts of mindfulness key to generating positivity within myself and to all those around me. So what was this voice which was telling me right from wrong? Who speaks it and why does it exist?

When I met up with Marshall, he was able to provide a whole new dimension to these questions. He set up an analogy of a video game, namely an MMORPG. The world as we experience it, is the world simulated in this game. Everything that contributes to your sense of 'you'-- your appearance, your personality, your fears and your desires, come together as your character in this RPG. From Plato's cave to the Matrix, this analogy may sound familiar. However, in the context of Buddhism, it really hits home as something which reached beyond just a story; it may very well be reality as we experience it.

Consider the video game analogy as identical to the Samara of life. We are unwillingly born into life, we live through life in suffering, and we die only to be reborn back into suffering. The 'Food Cycle' expressed by Maasaki on Adventure Time conveys this idea very succinctly and entertainingly. Through science and language, we reinforce the notion that all things are interconnected. We coexist with one another, with nature and with some spiritual notion of God, threading together our understanding of our reality's fabric. We're all tiny particles vibrating in an ever-changing, ever-fluid unison. The infinity which stretches into the mysteries of space, is that very infinite which reaches into an atom, deeper and smaller than even the Higgs Boson. What is beyond this infinity? From where does the source of that initial voice echo from?

Consider now all that which exists outside the RPG world. A user sitting outside the computer, clicking around on the screen. The character goes this way and that way. To survive and to keep the game on-going, the characters must satisfy some basic needs, that of food, safety and rest. Items are picked up along the way, characters are met and so the game-world grows. Goals, loves and desires are developed, the senses are pleasured. Greed and power arise, cities and civilizations fall, and rise again, in a ceaseless cycle of toil and suffering which spans the dawn and dusk of humanity's short time in the sun.

The lucy trip itself was a fascinating diffusion of the self into pure sensation and thought. We started with a meditation. Then listened to the randomized mix we put together, leaving our bodies behind and giving up our senses to be lifted by the monumental power of music. We tried different fruit, which were fresh bursts of nature's seductive potency, and watched random videos, including endless laughing and amazement at the above mentioned Adventure Time episode. We floated for an untraceable amount of time by that most beautiful river stream. Marsh was able to tap into the zen deconstructions which occupied most of his existence six months ago.

For me, I was held back by my attachments. It didn't make sense to me that the light which glowed within the leaves, and danced upon the water's surface, was but an illusion; sensoral perceptions masking the underlying truth that all things are simply empty and without meaning. It meant that all the people that I knew, all whom I love, were also just a projection, a fabrication of how I perceive them in my own mind. It felt entirely alienating, and all the inter-connectivity of the world shrunk into a dull grey orb where no sensation could be leaned on for certainty. It became very apparent to me that the only way to escape this orb of toil and meaninglessness, was to detach entirely-- to detach from my loves and my goals and dreams, and to fully dedicate my life towards solitude and the practice of meditation for the goal of enlightenment. My ego had build such importance around itself, building up so much meaning in those external factors of Family, Friends, Art & Nature, that when confronted with the proposition to shed it all, it revolted. To say the least; it has been a lot to think on.

During my conversations with Marshall, and especially during the evening of the lucy trip, it became very apparent to me how much meaning I had placed on my everyday earthly attachments. In other words, I experienced the full unzenness of being attached to game NPCs, quests and the very shiny graphics of the game-world. From the intimate love I feel towards Hedda, to the supporting love I feel towards family and friends. From the pleasure of the sun's warmth upon my skin, to the texture of plant-life brushing between my fingers. The feeling of utter release at the end of a prose and the whisper of words on an indigo night.. how could these be merely false projections of my mind? How could it be true that I was only a character in an illusion, in a game-world within which nothing was truly real nor of consequence. Since the new year of 2013, I had reaffirmed the importance of Family, Friends, Art & Nature in my life, and in this process, completely lost sight of the impermanence which underlies all things. During the come down of my trip, I was confronted entirely by the meaninglessness of all that I had put so much meaning into.

And that was okay. Through the process of meditation, one must learn to let go. Of attachments, of goals, of expectations. These are merely words which reflect all the trouble we cause for ourselves, within our own heads. It was humbling, challenging, and refreshing to be re-grounded in such a way to the truth of impermanence. People come and go in your life. So too does your sensations as they're tickled by the forces of nature. Of art, and our tireless drive to replicate ourselves, to create like the user, like God, to question the voice, to point at it and reach for it through visual, musical, scientific, religious, lyrical and physical abstractions. Once again, these are mere words, strung together in an effort to communicate, to understand, to question. However, only in action can one truly experience.

I spent the majority of the day after our lucy trip in solitude. I went off for a walk without a destination in mind, and ended up being gone for hours. I sat, reflected and meditated, and I was more or less able to lighten the burden of meaning. Out of all the paths we may choose to walk in our inconsequentially transient time in this RPG orb of endless endeavours, I will choose to walk the path of compassion. Choice is our only sword in the suffocating darkness of uncertainty. Just as easily, you can choose to give in to acts of immorality. Of sloth, greed and harm. It is difficult to say if there is a literal God which judges you at the end of your life-cycle, or whether all this is but a challenge, a test of spiritual fortitude. From an existential perspective; at death's gate, all your actions, good or bad, are past and therefore nothing. Clouds rise and rain falls. Accordingly, the elements which make up all that is physically you, will dissolve back into the cyclical forces of nature, fluid and without moral, social constructions.

Buddha teaches mindfulness in thought and action. A compassion for all things and an open heart to see reality for what it truly is; transient, ever-changing. One of my critical lessons over the past few months is to try to let go of my guilt. The guilt I feel when seeing harm done to animals, or the guilt I feel when I receive a complement. All of these external conditions which sparks an internal turmoil. The compassion which Buddha teaches comes from pure selflessness, whereas guilt stems from a feverish focus on the self. I am learning to let go of things that I cannot control (other people, situations, the daily deaths of countless animals) and trying my best to accept the reality of any given situation with all my heart (every moment, every conversation, every complement) My sincere belief is that any and all small actions, if stemming from a place of warmth, to give warmth, will have a rippling effect which can change the external world in a positive, selfless manner.

Trying to strip away all layers to come closer to the truth at the core of all things. And from the removal of the heavy layers of the ego, attempt to give out compassion and attention through everyday mindful interactions. Eliminating layers through exercises such as eating healthily, reducing waste, giving my full attention during conversations, and weighing every word like a chess piece. All ideals, but essential actions to better condition myself for natural instances of detachment. As Marshall took care to remind me, detachment should not be forced. Detachment too, is not necessarily a complete removal of the self in this world. It is also a full embrace of all that is around us and within us. It's a unifying force as much as it is an elimination of the self and ego. Mindfulness of temporality is a full engagement of the present moment, it gives interactions a whole deeper layer of meaning. Awareness of an end brings you closer with those you love. Every moment becomes sacred and fleeting. Every hug a long farewell.

To conclude, I'd like to share another slice of the time I spent with Marshall. We were coming down from lucy and we went over to a Buddhist temple nearby. It was entirely humbling to be immersed in such a beautifully crafted and serene space. So much care and attention had been placed into the details of every little aspect around us. From the patterning of the stone tiles, to the balance of majestic trees, rich plants and curved-roof buildings, all were in harmonious relation to one another. The air was fresh and the visual aesthetic of entire space had an absolute calming effect on the eyes and spirit. It was there that the words which swam in my head since my first day in Japan, finally formed coherently; “I truly admire a society which can realize a space such as this.”

Yet even at this temple, spider webs were apparent everywhere. Japan is quite over-run by spiders. It's interesting to think that in a society which has taken such extensive care towards spotlessness, nature still prevails in a small, ambivalent way. Though nature and the forces of impermanence will always topple the tallest of our monuments-- during our short time here, it is somehow much more refreshing to walk in a river in small-town Japan, than to spend even a second beside that polluted green water in the Perhentians.

From a Buddhist perspective, both environments are perfectly fine the way they are. Words like 'clear water is nice' or 'it smells like shit, therefore it's really fucked up.' are only projections, masking what they truly are; two bodies of water in different, changing conditions. Though it may mean that I toil for a while longer in this RPG orb, I choose believe that the path of compassion is worthy and conductive towards a more natural, inevitable detachment. To care for such a basic element of the world-- water, is such a mindful act. It is the same water which flows through all of the planet as it flows within all of us.

I cannot imagine that same body of poisoned water sitting anywhere in Japan, and that is a testament to the mindfulness of that society. In the case of fresh water, and environmental sustainability, Japan has managed to subdue that extra layer of cognitive conflict by eliminating it entirely. Their spiritual spaces of temples and shrines have a most beautifully calming effect on the soul. Despite the social rigidity, the environment of Japan is certainly the most conductive towards compassion and social harmony that I've come across in my travels thus far.

Addendum: Any act of good, no matter how small, contributes goodness into the world. So long as you don't make it an act of Passion. Act and experience without cravings or aversions. True compassion arises naturally and is simple so in the present moment.

skating in circles

the most romantic
is all that never happened,
and there you skated
before the red light glow
of a city on valentines,
we are alone.

you glided smooth
and backwards in circles,
your ponytail twirling
like a paintbrush
in the wind.

i've created you freshly
blossoming in my head,
with my eyes and with my eyes
i knew i knew you,
before we glanced each other,
in a moment softly sniffling.

we never spoke, and never spoke
and nothing transpired
between our frozen dance,
between the deep circles
we carved around each other.

you untied your skates
and i gazed at mine,
our shy silence lingered
as the bus pulled away,
from an empty, silent rink.

voices lost in snow

garden of words and thought of daniella
between hills of snow and soft warm smoke
"we drifted away, because there wasn't that spark."
last few days, and i haven't had a chance to breathe
so busy with nothing, these lists and stars.

one week from today, where will i be?
it's been over a year, since i was torn apart,
lust and desire, when will it stop?
nothing is constant, nothing remains the same
this too will pass, these two lost lovers.

and tolstoy says it all:
"hearing the strange tone in Eroska's voice,
Olenin turned to look at him.
The old man's eyes were filled with tears,
and one rolled down his cheek.
He was crying."

shinkai's colours,
in daniella's eyes.
kozelek's sighs,
these aimless wanderings.
marshall's calm,
to their sad fumbling.
there's zoran in Eroska,
and Olenin in i,
all frames shifting,
all things changing.