Tonsai, Thailand 9.18.10
Is freedom really possible in this life? True freedom, freedom from suffering, freedom from attachments, freedom to choose our own paths, to truly live presently, to truly offer compassion and non-attached love to those around? Sometimes these qualities seem to present themselves, they grow close to my heart, they appear as a good friend in the evening when i sit on the floor of my darkened hut and watch the breath; they appear in the morning as a drink a cup of coffee, feeling the ocean breeze on my skin, as the caffeine permeates my cells. I sit here now, legs up on the rough wood railing, my range hammock flapping in the breeze, green superimposed on the brilliantly textured white limestone cathedrals that frame this special place. It has been a week since I arrived. A week of freedom, a week of encounters, moments, smiles, a week of living in simplicity, but also in a bit of a bubble; but this is ok, it is an acknowledged bubble, a bubble of choice, a bubble of necessity, as my third month living out of my pack draws to a close, I needed a place to unpack, to settle in, to know those around, to not be a ghost passing through; there is much satisfaction in occasional sedentary rooting; with the satisfaction that this, too, will end. While it lasts, while I am here, it is brilliant, soothing, balm for the soul, great food for the stomach, rock for the hands, and mindfulness for the body. Is freedom possible? In certain times, in certain places, I think so. Life continues its unfolding, in the most open and honest way possible, unique....
"For you to be here now, trillions of drifting atoms had somehow to assemble in an intricate and curiously obliging manner to create you. It's an arrangement so specialized and particular that it has never been tried before and will only exist this once. For the next many years, these tiny particles will uncomplainingly engage in all the billions of deft, cooperative efforts necessary to keep you intact and let you experience the supremely agreeable but generally under appreciated state known as existence. Why atoms take this trouble is a bit of a puzzle. Being you is not a gratifying experience at the atomic level. For all their devoted attention, your atoms don't actually care about you-indeed, dont even know you are there. They dont even know they are there. They are mindless particles, after all, and not even themselves alive. Yet somehow, for the period of your existence, they will answer to a simple, rigid impulse: to keep you you."
-Bill Bryson, on the impermanent flow of the atomic universe
"The whole art of living a meditative life is to keep a beginner's mind, to keep a mind where, with each experience, at each time we sit down, we are willing to discover what is actually going to happen this hour, not what happened yesterday, or what will happen tomorrow. It is a wonderful way to live."
-Jack Kornfield, on the Beginner's Mind
Tonsai, Thailand 9.26.10
The days slip by in a peculiar normalcy in this sheltered reality; I fully accept that these days will soon pass and try to stay focused throughout the day, into the night as I sit in my darkened bungalow, observing my breath, observing the sounds that come and go, the thoughts that parade themselves, as I lay in bed, on my back, hands crossed, observation continuing until sleep takes the mind. I make time for connections, make time to climb with others, to share, to laugh, to observe, but also take care to not get lost in the endless chatter, take care to take the time to work on my own mind, to truly use the time and the space that I have been gifted with to building something lasting within. The sunsets over the Andaman Sea, cliff faces reflecting the orange and pink glows, the simple breakfasts eaten with legs dangling over the incoming tides; hiking through overgrown jungle paths and scaling cliffs overlooking a true tropical paradise; sitting, feeling the smallest breeze on my heated face and naked torso, feeling at solitary ease after so many months of motion; working through a small pot of coffee with devoted attention, my book, my journal, eyes open, savoring all. And soon, this too, will change, as does everything.
"Many people pass through life driven by fear, greed, aggression, or endless grasping after security, affection, power, sex, wealth, pleasure, and fame. This endless cycle of seeking is what Buddhism calls Samsara. Its rare that we take the time to understand this life that we are given to work with. We're born, we grow older, and eventually we die; we enjoy, we suffer, we wake, we sleep-how quickly it all slips away. Awareness of the suffering involved in this process of life-of being born, growing old, and dying, led the Buddha to question deeply how it comes about and how we can find freedom. That was the Buddha's question. That was where he began his practice. To understand ourselves and our lives is the point of meditation; to understand and to be free."
-Jack Kornfield
9.27.10 Tonsai, Thailand
People come, people go; on their own journeys, their own paths, their own
joys and sorrows , tales and experience, light and shadows, waking consciousness and dreamy sleep;
and i wish them well.
The sun rises, casts its spell and shadows, and sets, illuminating the earth and life, and then vanishing from view, dragging with it the ever changing tones of the day;
I bow to its presence, I bask in its glow.
Experiences arise and pass away;
enjoyed while they last, nevertheless they will always become just a memory, a faint light, a story told in passing, leaving behind only shadows;
I smile in their remembrance, and cast my mind back to the present.
The days come and go,
sometimes fast, sometimes slow;
with the ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows of life, the never ending parade of thought, experience, tales, memories, sensations, light, darkness;
trying to grow with each, remembering that even this growth, this knowledge strived for, will also pass.
wondering, have i lived well? wisely? have i loved well? i sit, and bow to it all.
10.3.10 Krabi Hospital, General Ward, Evening
The young girl, in her second act of generosity and kindness, brought over a fresh hospital sheet and tucked it around my bare legs, offering a warm smile as she returned back to her sleeping, wounded father across the aisle of mismatched hospital beds. An hour or so, before, she had brought over a blue box of milk, had startled me a bit from my dazed drifting, lying on the hard bed, exposed wooden plank, broken drawers on the side, pondering my peculiar situation. A beautiful offering to a stranger, in a strange place. Sitting here, the old fans whirring in the humid, tropical air, the ancient machines running with familiar beeps and groans, the families, mostly extended, always with children, as they seem to bring the most smiles from the mainly older patients in the ward; and myself, lying topless in a white hospital sarong, trying to center my breathing and mind amidst this starkly humbling turn of events, noticing with some trepidation the fleeting nature, the uncertainty of things. Far off the tourist trail, they cannot get too many Westerners here, as nobody on the staff speaks English, and all the others here can do is smile and nod; confronted with he harshness and beauty and fragility of life faced by the poor and working class in a distant land; these generous souls gathered around, showing the true currency of these lands, the currency of family, of bonds, of love; the currency that truly matters in times of sickness and death. I pray for myself, and for those around me.
Is freedom really possible in this life? True freedom, freedom from suffering, freedom from attachments, freedom to choose our own paths, to truly live presently, to truly offer compassion and non-attached love to those around? Sometimes these qualities seem to present themselves, they grow close to my heart, they appear as a good friend in the evening when i sit on the floor of my darkened hut and watch the breath; they appear in the morning as a drink a cup of coffee, feeling the ocean breeze on my skin, as the caffeine permeates my cells. I sit here now, legs up on the rough wood railing, my range hammock flapping in the breeze, green superimposed on the brilliantly textured white limestone cathedrals that frame this special place. It has been a week since I arrived. A week of freedom, a week of encounters, moments, smiles, a week of living in simplicity, but also in a bit of a bubble; but this is ok, it is an acknowledged bubble, a bubble of choice, a bubble of necessity, as my third month living out of my pack draws to a close, I needed a place to unpack, to settle in, to know those around, to not be a ghost passing through; there is much satisfaction in occasional sedentary rooting; with the satisfaction that this, too, will end. While it lasts, while I am here, it is brilliant, soothing, balm for the soul, great food for the stomach, rock for the hands, and mindfulness for the body. Is freedom possible? In certain times, in certain places, I think so. Life continues its unfolding, in the most open and honest way possible, unique....
"For you to be here now, trillions of drifting atoms had somehow to assemble in an intricate and curiously obliging manner to create you. It's an arrangement so specialized and particular that it has never been tried before and will only exist this once. For the next many years, these tiny particles will uncomplainingly engage in all the billions of deft, cooperative efforts necessary to keep you intact and let you experience the supremely agreeable but generally under appreciated state known as existence. Why atoms take this trouble is a bit of a puzzle. Being you is not a gratifying experience at the atomic level. For all their devoted attention, your atoms don't actually care about you-indeed, dont even know you are there. They dont even know they are there. They are mindless particles, after all, and not even themselves alive. Yet somehow, for the period of your existence, they will answer to a simple, rigid impulse: to keep you you."
-Bill Bryson, on the impermanent flow of the atomic universe
"The whole art of living a meditative life is to keep a beginner's mind, to keep a mind where, with each experience, at each time we sit down, we are willing to discover what is actually going to happen this hour, not what happened yesterday, or what will happen tomorrow. It is a wonderful way to live."
-Jack Kornfield, on the Beginner's Mind
Tonsai, Thailand 9.26.10
The days slip by in a peculiar normalcy in this sheltered reality; I fully accept that these days will soon pass and try to stay focused throughout the day, into the night as I sit in my darkened bungalow, observing my breath, observing the sounds that come and go, the thoughts that parade themselves, as I lay in bed, on my back, hands crossed, observation continuing until sleep takes the mind. I make time for connections, make time to climb with others, to share, to laugh, to observe, but also take care to not get lost in the endless chatter, take care to take the time to work on my own mind, to truly use the time and the space that I have been gifted with to building something lasting within. The sunsets over the Andaman Sea, cliff faces reflecting the orange and pink glows, the simple breakfasts eaten with legs dangling over the incoming tides; hiking through overgrown jungle paths and scaling cliffs overlooking a true tropical paradise; sitting, feeling the smallest breeze on my heated face and naked torso, feeling at solitary ease after so many months of motion; working through a small pot of coffee with devoted attention, my book, my journal, eyes open, savoring all. And soon, this too, will change, as does everything.
"Many people pass through life driven by fear, greed, aggression, or endless grasping after security, affection, power, sex, wealth, pleasure, and fame. This endless cycle of seeking is what Buddhism calls Samsara. Its rare that we take the time to understand this life that we are given to work with. We're born, we grow older, and eventually we die; we enjoy, we suffer, we wake, we sleep-how quickly it all slips away. Awareness of the suffering involved in this process of life-of being born, growing old, and dying, led the Buddha to question deeply how it comes about and how we can find freedom. That was the Buddha's question. That was where he began his practice. To understand ourselves and our lives is the point of meditation; to understand and to be free."
-Jack Kornfield
9.27.10 Tonsai, Thailand
People come, people go; on their own journeys, their own paths, their own
joys and sorrows , tales and experience, light and shadows, waking consciousness and dreamy sleep;
and i wish them well.
The sun rises, casts its spell and shadows, and sets, illuminating the earth and life, and then vanishing from view, dragging with it the ever changing tones of the day;
I bow to its presence, I bask in its glow.
Experiences arise and pass away;
enjoyed while they last, nevertheless they will always become just a memory, a faint light, a story told in passing, leaving behind only shadows;
I smile in their remembrance, and cast my mind back to the present.
The days come and go,
sometimes fast, sometimes slow;
with the ten thousand joys and ten thousand sorrows of life, the never ending parade of thought, experience, tales, memories, sensations, light, darkness;
trying to grow with each, remembering that even this growth, this knowledge strived for, will also pass.
wondering, have i lived well? wisely? have i loved well? i sit, and bow to it all.
10.3.10 Krabi Hospital, General Ward, Evening
The young girl, in her second act of generosity and kindness, brought over a fresh hospital sheet and tucked it around my bare legs, offering a warm smile as she returned back to her sleeping, wounded father across the aisle of mismatched hospital beds. An hour or so, before, she had brought over a blue box of milk, had startled me a bit from my dazed drifting, lying on the hard bed, exposed wooden plank, broken drawers on the side, pondering my peculiar situation. A beautiful offering to a stranger, in a strange place. Sitting here, the old fans whirring in the humid, tropical air, the ancient machines running with familiar beeps and groans, the families, mostly extended, always with children, as they seem to bring the most smiles from the mainly older patients in the ward; and myself, lying topless in a white hospital sarong, trying to center my breathing and mind amidst this starkly humbling turn of events, noticing with some trepidation the fleeting nature, the uncertainty of things. Far off the tourist trail, they cannot get too many Westerners here, as nobody on the staff speaks English, and all the others here can do is smile and nod; confronted with he harshness and beauty and fragility of life faced by the poor and working class in a distant land; these generous souls gathered around, showing the true currency of these lands, the currency of family, of bonds, of love; the currency that truly matters in times of sickness and death. I pray for myself, and for those around me.
