Buddha, why are you laughing at me? What symbolism must I seek out before it all becomes real, the symmetry. Until that gap closes and I'm left with a circular perspective. Create a interstellar mandala. Which is a geometric sacred pattern representing the whole of the universe in its infinite circular illusion. Originally the word Mandala meant a chapter of verses of mantras but the Indo-European culture, the Vedic chanting ceremonies, expressed these hymns as the beginning of life and the root of existence. Manda means essence. La means container. Roughly 'container of essence.' The center is a dot (the 'seed' where all live develops) and from the symbolic center are triangular, interwoven geometric patterns. The border circle represents the 'dynamic consciousness of the initiated.' To complete a mandala means to grasp the essence. Technical and artistic training are required of monks before any attempt at the creation of the mandala can be made.
The lack of earthly attachment. The seek of self-peace which is equivalent to world peace. If you can be at peace with yourself you can be at peace with the world despite all attached atrocities. We don't need this weight on our backs. It is not cruel indifference, it is helplessness to the void. It is the consuming light and the thoughts no one wants, that interfere with daily happenings. We are animals in a cage. There is no zoo keeper. There is no zoo. There is no cage.
The world would be brighter if everyone went off alone into the woods to find a big flat rock for yoga. For meditation and patience training. Make the commitment, after practice in less demanding environments, to never descend that mountain peak until fulfillment. Once that 'aha!' moment hits you like a great boulder and you descend, you float down the mountain, with a peaceful, detached smile, a new initiate. A new bhikkhu. One full of nirvana and urges others to find their rock. Nothing pushy.
The world would be less polluted with garbage and ignorance if everyone sounded their triumphant yawp off of rooftops. If everyone yelled their darkest and most brooding secrets from the tops of parking garages or high rises, with megaphones. A collective unraveling of the lies we've woven together to keep our lives together, like a blind knitter, the pieces are of off color and do not match. One lie replaces another and the truth becomes blurred to the point that not a soul knows who you are. The collective sigh of relief! Get this off your chest! The silence that follows would be answered with shouts of joy and lovemaking. Everyone would feel brave and strong at once and real change could be made. Everyone forgets about the appeal of alcohol and fast food and fast sex. Everyone helps one another to clean up the dusty sky.
Confess. Let them know you have a human heart beneath the layers of pop culture trash. Everyone acts so stupid. Conditioned to believe they are special without effort. No one deserves to be special without any effort. (This is too easy for me. Then do something else.) Challenge yourself to find a personal philosophy that does not conform to anything ever devised before. (Shit. Let's be the gods of a new religion. One that is all-inclusive. Everyone. Come on in. Our outdoor church is warm and green and you do not have to say a prayer at all. The issues of etiquette and chastity are destroyed. The rampant moralizing destroys people. They question every action and fold into themselves a weak and wounded warrior. Who never put up a fight to stop the cycle.) They are spread out through oblivion like scattered ashes. Many of us never even attempt to lead a unique life. One that makes oneself happy and spreads this happiness to others.
I said hello. I confessed a nervousness. And no one responded.
