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.
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.