Bodhisattva
Main Entry: bodhisattva
Function: noun
:a being that compassionately refrains from entering nirvana in order to save others and is worshiped as a deity in Mahayana Buddhism
Sometimes I imagine that everyone around me is a bodhisattva just trying to show me something. I generally don't imagine this when I'm being cut-off in traffic or standing in a long line at the grocery store. But, when I am prompted by a subtle shift in perspective, I try to savor it and turn it around in my hand and look at it. Certainly, positive shifts are easier to savor. And I'm learning a few lessons these days that I'll try to savor. That I am savoring.
No specifics, but it's been a strange mixture of events, people, serendipity, tangential stories told by friends, the intoxicating fragrance of southern Indiana summer, and inner thought. I have been struggling with this:
LET GO
Or as a very special 38 put it- "Hold on loosely, but don't let go.".Mmmhmm. I'm tryin'.
(Who knew Southern rockers were such zen masters?)
It's all amusing to me because (ironically enough)it is I that usually plays the alan "there-is-only-each-moment-nothing-else"watts devotee. But then, as now, a bodhisattva creeps up on me, taps me on the shoulder, and reminds me just how bound by my desires I really am. And I realize how I could potentially smother the beauty out of a beautiful occurance. It's like those people that snap photo after photo on their vacation without really seeing what's in front of them, blinded by their excitement of a future memory. So I relax. Or try to.
So as I'm driving back from Kelly's this afternoon- she lives out in the country/farmland, and the drive is beautiful. A short, ancient stone walls runs the length of the trip, dropping off here and picking up there. The trees bend over the my car giving the sunlight a splintered pattern on the road. Occasionally the forest will break into dense farmland. There is life everywhere- deer, birds, opossum, and a black cat that has crossed my path twice in as many days. I've actually made that drive three times in the last week. Weird.
So as I putter through this landscape, eyes on a hazy rainbow towering above the area, I started listening to a mix CD and contemplate my surroundings both far and near. Billy Bragg is singing a song by The Smiths (which you should listen to by saving this target):
Jeane
The lowlife has lost its appeal
And I am tired of walking these streets
To a room with its cupboards bare.
Jeane
There's ice on the sink where we bathe
And how can you call this a home
When you know it's a grave
We tried and we failed.
Oh Jeane.
then real Smiths:
Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
see, the sea wants to take me
the knife wants to slit me
do you think you can help me?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
handsome groom, give her room
loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
although she needs you more than she loves you
I know it's over
and it never really began
but in my heart it was so real
I turn it off even though it's beautiful and tragic and dramatic and all those things I'm often not sure how to be. I realize (again) how much music can flavor my thoughts. The bare naked confessional lyrics that Morrissey has written go a long way to bolster romantic notions. Notions that are often considered antiquated because they seem to lack utility in the modern age.
Maybe these notions are even considered unreasonable.
You see, I try very hard to be reasonable. I consider myself a particularly reasonable chap. That's why people like to bend my ear on matters of equity. Reasonable is about as close as I can get to rational. This is for two reasons, the first of which is just law of averages. I believe that VERY few people are truly and wholly rational. I don't mean we're all insane or neurotic (I'll argue that another time) but we rarely operate on a completely rational basis. But we're (most of us) fairly reasonable. The other reason I consider myself less than rational is because I suffer (suffer?) from what some might call a modern afflication: I'm an incurable romantic. If you'll indulge me another definition, the 2nd meaning for "romantic" (according to Merriam Webster) is "having no basis in fact". The 3rd is "impractical in conception or plan". This makes all kinds of sense. I've always thought of romance as an across-the-board positive thing. Me, being the wandering boy poet of my own mind, always related more to definition number 4, which is "marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized".
My quest for such notions began a long time ago-
Sitting in my Western Lit. course in high school, zit-faced and awkward, I was exposed to Francesco Petrarch.
Song, if in that sweet place
Our lady you will see,
You think perhaps like me
That she will offer you her lovely hand
From which so far I stand.
Do not go near; kneeling respectfully,
Tell her: -- I come as soon as can be done,
Either bare soul or man of flesh and bone.
or how about-
There is no joyous state
that Love or fickle Fortune ever granted
to those they loved most in the world,
that I would not exchange
for those eyes' glance, from which there comes
my peace, as a whole tree comes from its root.
Wandering sparks of my life,
angelic, blessed, from which delight takes fire,
that consume me and sweetly destroy me:
as every other light
must flee and vanish before your splendour,
so with my heart,
when such great sweetness descends within,
all other things, all thought must go,
and only Love remains there with you.
Little did I know then that Mr. P would be my undoing. I read Petrarch throughout high school and college; about his "relationship" with the mysterious Laura...an unspoken, unheard romance that would last for more than twenty years. I call it a romance, but it's not even clear whether Laura herself knew about it. So hell, it coulda been a twenty year crush. Either way it inspired some of the most sublime and sincere thoughts on love and what it means to suffer such an unrequited ailment(and by love I mean being IN love). And yes, it's an antiquated courtly love, but it's still inspiring. And it made me fall in love with love. It had me imaging love of the heroic, idealized, tragic, courtly kind, which is impractical in conception or plan and does indeed have little or no basis in fact. And I don't say that with even a hint of regret. This is the real world and, on the whole, I'm more interested in interacting with it than endlessly dreaming about an ideal. So the question arises- is falling in love (romance) simply quaint and silly? Is it something that we, as adults over 25, should look at as something for younger, more idealistic folks? I have no easy answer for that.
Yes, romance indicates an idealized version of love. Yes, it's unrealistic. Yes, it's based upon a paradigm that we, as a modern culture, no longer exist in (maybe never existed in!). But everyone has an idealized version of everything in their head anyway, even if they don't know it. That's how we translate the world. If I say toy wagon, you picture a toy wagon, probably red, and that is your idealized verion of a wagon. It's an idea that helps you recognize other toy wagons as such. So idealized love, I suppose, is what helps me to recognize love-type relationships. But Petrarch's love has cursed me to an awkward adjustment to the real, which sometimes seems like the gen-x version of love, which is basically just being cool and detached and natural at the same time. Actually, I know very few people that are like that, and it occured to me as I wrote that sentence that I'm really kind of describing myself. I think it is how I cope with trying to squelch certain feelings that are a bit too strong for those rational and reasonable folks around me.
And that's why I'm enjoying these little reminder lessons from all the bodhisattvas that keep tapping me on the shoulder. Because what am I really holding onto by letting myself grasp at things I can never truly have? That none of us can ever truly have or sustain forever?
Regarding my armchair buddhism- The spiritual allusions I use are both comforting, as if there really is some grand structure or arc to our lives(yeah..sure), and warm- avoiding the frigid language of psychiatry.
Spiritualism to me is the melding of the mental and the emotional with the eternal. And when I say eternal, I don't mean in a superstitious way. I mean concepts and things that are everlasting. The comfort I find in Hindu or Buddhist gods barely has anything to do with whether this shit is real or not. In fact, now that I think of it, it has NOTHING to do with the question of god(s). Those are just masks of the eternal.
The YIN/YANG is a symbol I find deeply profound. Of course, I'm supposed to find it so obvious that it shouldn't even be mentioned. "Of course...dark and light, G, we get it. Every opposite is part of the other, uh-huh, so? Does that make it any less cheesy to get as a tattoo?" Well, no...it's still a cliched tattoo, straight up. But am I remedial or is the relationship of opposites something we should be talking about? Isn't that something we see every day, that pervades our lives, that's right in front of us all the time? Yet we still get pissed for happiness being temporary, for the roller coaster going DOWN after it goes up? Sure, it's fucking obvious, but that doesn't make it any less profound or important. Does it have anything to do with God? Not in my book. Does it have anything to do with spiritualism? Lots.
If nothing else I find the idea of enlightened ones, deities, etc. entertaining as hell. We humans need our narrative like we need air to breathe. So hmmm...how about we have a guy having a dream within a dream and that's our consciousness? Okay! Sure! Whatever gets your through the night is all right.
So how about I turn my gaze away from my navel?
I guess my point is this- I'm learning. And teaching. And I am thankful. And I'll try not to hold on too tight.
"When someone is seeking, it happens quite easily that he only sees the thing that he is seeking; that he is unable to find anything, unable to absorb anything, because
he is only thinking of the thing he is seeking, because he has a goal, he is obsessed with his goal." -Siddartha
s6
Main Entry: bodhisattva
Function: noun
:a being that compassionately refrains from entering nirvana in order to save others and is worshiped as a deity in Mahayana Buddhism
Sometimes I imagine that everyone around me is a bodhisattva just trying to show me something. I generally don't imagine this when I'm being cut-off in traffic or standing in a long line at the grocery store. But, when I am prompted by a subtle shift in perspective, I try to savor it and turn it around in my hand and look at it. Certainly, positive shifts are easier to savor. And I'm learning a few lessons these days that I'll try to savor. That I am savoring.
No specifics, but it's been a strange mixture of events, people, serendipity, tangential stories told by friends, the intoxicating fragrance of southern Indiana summer, and inner thought. I have been struggling with this:
LET GO
Or as a very special 38 put it- "Hold on loosely, but don't let go.".Mmmhmm. I'm tryin'.
(Who knew Southern rockers were such zen masters?)
It's all amusing to me because (ironically enough)it is I that usually plays the alan "there-is-only-each-moment-nothing-else"watts devotee. But then, as now, a bodhisattva creeps up on me, taps me on the shoulder, and reminds me just how bound by my desires I really am. And I realize how I could potentially smother the beauty out of a beautiful occurance. It's like those people that snap photo after photo on their vacation without really seeing what's in front of them, blinded by their excitement of a future memory. So I relax. Or try to.
So as I'm driving back from Kelly's this afternoon- she lives out in the country/farmland, and the drive is beautiful. A short, ancient stone walls runs the length of the trip, dropping off here and picking up there. The trees bend over the my car giving the sunlight a splintered pattern on the road. Occasionally the forest will break into dense farmland. There is life everywhere- deer, birds, opossum, and a black cat that has crossed my path twice in as many days. I've actually made that drive three times in the last week. Weird.
So as I putter through this landscape, eyes on a hazy rainbow towering above the area, I started listening to a mix CD and contemplate my surroundings both far and near. Billy Bragg is singing a song by The Smiths (which you should listen to by saving this target):
Jeane
The lowlife has lost its appeal
And I am tired of walking these streets
To a room with its cupboards bare.
Jeane
There's ice on the sink where we bathe
And how can you call this a home
When you know it's a grave
We tried and we failed.
Oh Jeane.
then real Smiths:
Oh mother, I can feel the soil falling over my head
see, the sea wants to take me
the knife wants to slit me
do you think you can help me?
Sad veiled bride, please be happy
handsome groom, give her room
loud, loutish lover, treat her kindly
although she needs you more than she loves you
I know it's over
and it never really began
but in my heart it was so real
I turn it off even though it's beautiful and tragic and dramatic and all those things I'm often not sure how to be. I realize (again) how much music can flavor my thoughts. The bare naked confessional lyrics that Morrissey has written go a long way to bolster romantic notions. Notions that are often considered antiquated because they seem to lack utility in the modern age.
Maybe these notions are even considered unreasonable.
You see, I try very hard to be reasonable. I consider myself a particularly reasonable chap. That's why people like to bend my ear on matters of equity. Reasonable is about as close as I can get to rational. This is for two reasons, the first of which is just law of averages. I believe that VERY few people are truly and wholly rational. I don't mean we're all insane or neurotic (I'll argue that another time) but we rarely operate on a completely rational basis. But we're (most of us) fairly reasonable. The other reason I consider myself less than rational is because I suffer (suffer?) from what some might call a modern afflication: I'm an incurable romantic. If you'll indulge me another definition, the 2nd meaning for "romantic" (according to Merriam Webster) is "having no basis in fact". The 3rd is "impractical in conception or plan". This makes all kinds of sense. I've always thought of romance as an across-the-board positive thing. Me, being the wandering boy poet of my own mind, always related more to definition number 4, which is "marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized".
My quest for such notions began a long time ago-
Sitting in my Western Lit. course in high school, zit-faced and awkward, I was exposed to Francesco Petrarch.
Song, if in that sweet place
Our lady you will see,
You think perhaps like me
That she will offer you her lovely hand
From which so far I stand.
Do not go near; kneeling respectfully,
Tell her: -- I come as soon as can be done,
Either bare soul or man of flesh and bone.
or how about-
There is no joyous state
that Love or fickle Fortune ever granted
to those they loved most in the world,
that I would not exchange
for those eyes' glance, from which there comes
my peace, as a whole tree comes from its root.
Wandering sparks of my life,
angelic, blessed, from which delight takes fire,
that consume me and sweetly destroy me:
as every other light
must flee and vanish before your splendour,
so with my heart,
when such great sweetness descends within,
all other things, all thought must go,
and only Love remains there with you.
Little did I know then that Mr. P would be my undoing. I read Petrarch throughout high school and college; about his "relationship" with the mysterious Laura...an unspoken, unheard romance that would last for more than twenty years. I call it a romance, but it's not even clear whether Laura herself knew about it. So hell, it coulda been a twenty year crush. Either way it inspired some of the most sublime and sincere thoughts on love and what it means to suffer such an unrequited ailment(and by love I mean being IN love). And yes, it's an antiquated courtly love, but it's still inspiring. And it made me fall in love with love. It had me imaging love of the heroic, idealized, tragic, courtly kind, which is impractical in conception or plan and does indeed have little or no basis in fact. And I don't say that with even a hint of regret. This is the real world and, on the whole, I'm more interested in interacting with it than endlessly dreaming about an ideal. So the question arises- is falling in love (romance) simply quaint and silly? Is it something that we, as adults over 25, should look at as something for younger, more idealistic folks? I have no easy answer for that.
Yes, romance indicates an idealized version of love. Yes, it's unrealistic. Yes, it's based upon a paradigm that we, as a modern culture, no longer exist in (maybe never existed in!). But everyone has an idealized version of everything in their head anyway, even if they don't know it. That's how we translate the world. If I say toy wagon, you picture a toy wagon, probably red, and that is your idealized verion of a wagon. It's an idea that helps you recognize other toy wagons as such. So idealized love, I suppose, is what helps me to recognize love-type relationships. But Petrarch's love has cursed me to an awkward adjustment to the real, which sometimes seems like the gen-x version of love, which is basically just being cool and detached and natural at the same time. Actually, I know very few people that are like that, and it occured to me as I wrote that sentence that I'm really kind of describing myself. I think it is how I cope with trying to squelch certain feelings that are a bit too strong for those rational and reasonable folks around me.
And that's why I'm enjoying these little reminder lessons from all the bodhisattvas that keep tapping me on the shoulder. Because what am I really holding onto by letting myself grasp at things I can never truly have? That none of us can ever truly have or sustain forever?
Regarding my armchair buddhism- The spiritual allusions I use are both comforting, as if there really is some grand structure or arc to our lives(yeah..sure), and warm- avoiding the frigid language of psychiatry.
Spiritualism to me is the melding of the mental and the emotional with the eternal. And when I say eternal, I don't mean in a superstitious way. I mean concepts and things that are everlasting. The comfort I find in Hindu or Buddhist gods barely has anything to do with whether this shit is real or not. In fact, now that I think of it, it has NOTHING to do with the question of god(s). Those are just masks of the eternal.
The YIN/YANG is a symbol I find deeply profound. Of course, I'm supposed to find it so obvious that it shouldn't even be mentioned. "Of course...dark and light, G, we get it. Every opposite is part of the other, uh-huh, so? Does that make it any less cheesy to get as a tattoo?" Well, no...it's still a cliched tattoo, straight up. But am I remedial or is the relationship of opposites something we should be talking about? Isn't that something we see every day, that pervades our lives, that's right in front of us all the time? Yet we still get pissed for happiness being temporary, for the roller coaster going DOWN after it goes up? Sure, it's fucking obvious, but that doesn't make it any less profound or important. Does it have anything to do with God? Not in my book. Does it have anything to do with spiritualism? Lots.
If nothing else I find the idea of enlightened ones, deities, etc. entertaining as hell. We humans need our narrative like we need air to breathe. So hmmm...how about we have a guy having a dream within a dream and that's our consciousness? Okay! Sure! Whatever gets your through the night is all right.
So how about I turn my gaze away from my navel?
I guess my point is this- I'm learning. And teaching. And I am thankful. And I'll try not to hold on too tight.
"When someone is seeking, it happens quite easily that he only sees the thing that he is seeking; that he is unable to find anything, unable to absorb anything, because
he is only thinking of the thing he is seeking, because he has a goal, he is obsessed with his goal." -Siddartha
s6
unravled:
Perhaps you're just romancing the wrong people.