LIFE and The life-less human ways

LIFE and

The life-less human ways

FREDO VELÁZQUEZ

Velázquez, Alfredo LIFE and The life-less human ways First edition for Kindle Direct Publishing Morelia, Michoacán, México. November 2017.

ISBN 9781973233152 © Alfredo Velázquez, 2017 alfredovr86@hotmail.com Editorial services, print layout and cover design by Qvixote Press www.qvixote.press Most photographies and illustrations included in this book are in public domain. They were taken in October 2017 from the following links: P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P. P.

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Table of contents The author Preface Next to a guru: no lesson, simple unfold Beautiful empty space Why are we here?

It hasn’t any sense, yet it has you When Buddhism deceived them Something only She could answer Spirituality Empty cup God in the creation, and the other god in your imagination The abbot, the wanderer The wise, the fool, the artist How am I to live?

Where’d you think you were going?

The awakening of the self Meditation and the stone buddhas Those who under-stand living An unsought (spiritual?) encounter Meeting of the birds The prophet’s mistake No one needs to meditate A necessary message The fable of silence

1 2 7 9 11 13 17 18 21 24 28 30 32 34 39 42 43 46 49 52 54 56

Life’s mockery of human’s “free will” A satire of Life against the little world of men An unexpected satire of Life against education On making a living Amid these days The circus of “spirituality” Stop believing in god.

Become Him/Her/It/That The other job: that of Life The untold education Because of Her, “I” am a gift Words for a Sufi friend Deepest dream The singing of the heart Of a hummingbird that only wished to fly Of my conversations with Zhuang Zhou The world of forms The delusive pursuit of knowing what you are On salvation Lost in Tao Looking for the right teacher The key to Life

Acknowledgements

60 61 63 66 69 71 78 80 84 88 89 91 93 96 101 102 105 107 110 112 113

The author Fredo Velázquez: one who aspires to somewhat interpret the generous movement of Life. He is a pseudo-composer of beautiful verses: the beauty comes from the sceneries of the world, the verses from his pretentious mind.

In the natural order of things, he matters just as much as the reader, a fly, the dung that nurtures the soil, or anything that humans have considered sacred.

Fredo, as many others have, lured by a seductive idea of inner-freedom and higher meaning: sought, practiced, listened,

followed, prayed, meditated, and strenuously hunted for the acclaimed universal wisdom. That, until one day, sitting under the winter pink blossoms of a peach tree, saw his auspicious “spiritual” path being ridiculed by the selfless endeavor of a hummingbird: how innocent was its flight! how free its movement, how kind its meaning, and how indifferent was its naturality to the uncertainty of tomorrow! And there was Fredo, struggling to elucidate the mysteries of the universe, attempting to master his mind, investing his living in hoping to one day meet the expectations of what is supposed to be divine and virtuous; all that, whilst in the middle of a timeless generous expression of inclusion.

And in what way was Fredo participating with that beautiful expression by following and exalting human ways of “higher meaning” and their truth? Or by assuming that the moment of absolute inner-freedom and spiritual awakening would eventually arrive? Not in a reciprocal way! That is certain.

So, after a challenging while, Fredo unwillingly accepted the hundreds of years of egotistical human conditioning of which he is a product: a heritage much stronger than his will and that all of the man-made methods to be liberated. He saw there was not much he could do about his anxiety, his opinionated mind, his judgmental views, his self-ishness, his arrogance, his fear of the unknown, and yet, mysteriously enough, there was still room for him to participate harmoniously in the inclusive cadence of Life.

Fredo is not interested in sharing any “realizations” of his nor the minor challenges of his human walk; similarly, he does not see it necessary to talk about the “importance” or “irrelevance” of his personal living. For what?! Of what use would it be to know the shortcomings, likes or dislikes of Vivaldi while one listens to his Violin Concertos? In much the same way, Fredo is only trying to share his somewhat melodic composition; a composition inspired by the natural rhythm of this wondrous and captivating Creation; Creation that is being trampled by the human ways.

Preface The writer would like to convey that the words contained herein can be, fortunately, assimilated and read in various ways. One may consider them a significant thought-provoking matter, a challenging approach to our long-established lifestyle model, an outrage to most of our deeply entrenched and respected beliefs and traditions, a ridiculous and utopic way of depicting human’s relationship with Life; an iconoclastic endeavor, an audacious critic of the human movement, a hopeful invitation to mingle with the natural stream of Creation, a somewhat poetic illustration of the generous sceneries of this planet, or just a bunch of fictitious written-compositions (tales, satires, poems, dialogues, verses, and essays).

However, it should be mentioned that what inspires the writer to portray in words the movement of Life he experiences and many times imagines are none of the motives mentioned above; for him, he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter: this is what he loves to do.

On the same hand, the writer cannot deny that he takes pleasure in disdaining the sociocultural idiosyncrasies that condemn (in most cases) and condition our human walk by indubitably preventing us from coexisting and inter-acting harmoniously with every being, form, and universal manifestation in this, our welcoming planet.

But besides the pleasure the writer indulges in while composing these readable or perhaps foolish verses (that is up to the reader), and despite his stubborn insistence that they are not aimed to improve anybody, there is an undeniable aspiration within the message of these written-compositions that invite the reader to dismiss the human ways and rather pay heed to the dynamics of the world of the rivers, of the empty valleys, of the green meadows, of the hummingbirds, of the wanderer, of the artist, and of the peach blossom spring.

Fredo Velázquez Morelia, México September 2017

LIFE and

The life-less human ways

To the Wellspring of Life, to Its multiple expressions.

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Next to a guru: no lesson, simple unfold

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Beautiful empty space

Rain falls, suddenly these lands are nurtured: a journey through empty dead space.

Dead space where grows the trees; they are indeed well-rooted in the ground’s emptiness.

Empty space, then, bees dance from flower to flower: sweetness of the fruit.

Humans also nurture dance and flourish; though now their space is taken by righteous, exemplary paths.

The human conditioning that has trampled our compassionate nature is a heavy, stagnant, inflexible burden that limits the relevance of our existence with our self. And though we have recognized our deplorable human ways, there is not much we can do about it today, we have never known how to die to that destructive inner drive inherent to the mind (perhaps what many call the ego).

The dying that the writer is referring to has nothing to do with biological death—which is a very beautiful part of the interplaying

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of Life, and that curiously enough the self fears so much—but to the accumulated arrogance, self-importance, knowledge and points of view that crystalize our walk; a human walk that would otherwise move in accordance with the cadence of creation.

So, by not know how to die, the self relentlessly tries to be in control of the space of our existence and thus of the outcomes and possibilities of living, hence there is rarely enough room for kindness to self-less-ly express through us. If we fail to be kind, we are going against our true nature, if that, we are but another caged bird: a stranger to the caresses of the natural winds, a stranger to the harmony of creation.

Our ways and purposes have never been in tune with the natural order of things: how could an inclusive ecology strive to fragment itself, violently? Yet we, human beings, excel when it comes to fragmenting.

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Beautiful empty space

And in spite of ceaseless attempts from the farcical circus of “spirituality” (organized religions, chanting, “sacred” books, praying, retreats, meditation, priests, following gurus, and all the rest), that inner self-ish drive continues to prevail against the manmade practices and ways that aim to savor the higher meaning of Life: since far-off times there have been yogis, gurus, prophets, books, monks, religions, mythologies, gods, etc. What have they cultivated in humanity as a whole? Debate, absurd morality, clashes over the truth of god, fear, “spiritual” obligation, and the distancing of human living with the simplicity of existence: many have missed the chance to mingle with the beautiful here and now.

So no matter what practices or rituals you have acquired, to flourish your existence you need to die to all of your mental imagery (that includes your methods too) and inner forces, but that is something “you” cannot actually accomplish! Then, what to do?

The writer is certain that the most conscientious and honest thing we can do today so that our lives participate harmoniously with Life, is to forget all man-made paths, doctrines, philosophies, mythologies, and truths (that have served for nothing in this sense anyway), and respectfully observe the unifying motion and gestures of what is pristine amongst these vast natural lands: the compassionate eyes of animals, the cherry blossoms, the meekness of lambs, the naturality of children, the tireless determination of trees to purify our air; the loyalty of the sun, the selflessness of bees, the vulnerability of fish on a pond, the delicacy of hummingbirds, the impermanence of clouds and the prowess of their waters, the generosity of the valleys: the mystery of all. Nature is infinitely wiser than any human purpose, but we can’t seem to trust that natural Wisdom and Its course, thus, we foolishly rely on made-up reasons that sprout a lot of unnecessary violence and anxiety; even the wildest storms eventually give room for the sun to shine.

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If the dance of nature is sincerely considered and if one has even a little interest in the creation of which everything is a manifestation of (not the selfish creation of humans, of course), then one might see the absurdity of the “I” structure that dares to mistreat the ecology that sustains it because it sees its existence as something separated and more important than the air it breathes, the space in which it moves and the ground where it stands.

Such as when we lie under the morning sun to rejoice in that warm indescribability that embraces all beings, or when the self becomes no-thing in the loving arms of a child, in that same mysterious manner, when humbly appreciating the movement of Life, the little self might, perhaps, be lucky enough to comprehend that it is sharing this vast-vital-empty-space with many other expressions of creation and that it alone could not even for a second survive. Only then, perhaps, the space that pretentiousseeking and the need of self-importance occupy in its walk of life will empty out (even for a fleeting instant) so that it can, not really knowing how, kindly inter-act: Mattering no more than a fly, though no less than the sun; loving not one thing, treasuring all.

Nevertheless, if we go about appreciating nature as another self-enhancement practice or as a way to escape from the burden of the “I” structure, we will probably continue to waste the opportunity of the here and now. In the eyes of the writer one should do it because it is the natural beauty, expression, and gift of the world to all beings, that of course, invites us to participate.

As mentioned before, our conditioning is much stronger than our will, we cannot die to it, but who cares! we will all die very soon anyway. So how could anyone waste any living time trying to improve (in this sense) when there are still flowers willing to

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Beautiful empty space

share their fragrance and bees ready to give up their work? We fail to be reciprocal to the self-less choreography of Life while on “spiritual” paths or while relying on the presumed realizations of other people that promote their-self as full of goodness and wisdom; the writer would rather rely on the mysterious course of Life that carries all of us, good and bad.

Utilizing our walk of life to become a “better” person is a selfish waste of living; better to live naturally. If trees were to spend their time trying to improve we would run out of fresh oxygen, fast; perhaps that is why we are polluting most of our air, we can’t stop wanting to be good.

Life is indeed mysterious, some proclaim clear understanding.

True laughter comes by surprise, some offer sure paths.

The suchness of Life: One. Some give multiple reasons.

The heck with meditation; ridiculous crafted silence!

I’ll whistle next to the morning bird I’ll sing the fisherman’s song I’ll splash the water under my feet.

My friend Lao Tzu once said: If the valleys were only replenished they would stagnate.

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Why are we here?

This is usually a discouraging and self-destructive inquiry that emanates from the fears and confusions of the human mind. The need to clothe ourselves in the “security” of an answer arises in us by being incapable of intermingling with the natural current of Life, and by not allowing our essence to fulfill harmoniously (as everything else in this creation does) its function. However, our mediocre minds, seeing its limitations, conform to a string of ridiculous and deceiving answers: I am here to be happy, to be successful, to be saved, etc. Paradoxically, when trying to find the meaning of Life, that same meaning becomes the greatest confinement and struggle during our journey.

This alleged transcendental question will only find answers based on mere opinions; the very world you have created is, believe it or not, just an idea. So what is left without the opinion? Surely there is neither the world, nor the character that bears your name (the seeker), nor reasons or doubts: this must mean that only the pristine essence of Life would be left.

The writer considers that it is quite interesting how we usually refer to our hearts when we want to allude to something that transcends the ego or the “mundane”. But, when was the last time you genuinely observed your heart? How it palpitates, how it cleanses, how it never disturbs, how it does not seek, how it harmoniously fulfills its function and it does not pretend to be glorified while flowing humbly to the rhythm of the Heart

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Why are we here?

that makes everything else in the universe vibrate. So, what has prevented us from following its living example and has given us the audacity to talk so much about it as if we understood its pure expression?

Fortunately, though, we are always on time: because we are always in the beautiful here and now. Despite our degraded minds, when our opinion of the world vanishes (though that is something beyond our will or good intentions, because it happens naturally, spontaneously), we can discover and be intimately in touch with the beating of the Heart that permeates all; with the immaculate, with the wisdom of creation: exemplified both in the smallest particles, and in the largest galaxies.

However, the mind, believing itself superior to the other forms of Life is forced to ideate answers that support and justify its self-centered deductions; hence the quests, the reasons, the answers. If we truly believe that we are here to carry out a spiritual task, to one day be saved, or to eventually be happy, it is because of our inability and insensibility to taste the always accomplished natural expression of Life.

Ask a bee, ask the ocean, ask a tree, ask your heart! “Why are you here?” If they remain silent, it is probably because they have never considered such stupidity; but if you have the humility to observe them, you will probably discover the kindest, most joyous, pathless, self-less, unifying rhythm that melts away all the questions and answers.

How foolish is it then to continue in search of a higher meaning, of a purpose, of a reason to live! That just means that we are being exploited by the blindness of the human mind. It would be much easier to exploit our essence, our human potential. In the same manner, it would also take a lot less effort to be what we already are, than to become another useless and transitory opinion.

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It hasn’t any sense, yet it has you

The universe holds no purpose, yet it holds you (full of purposes).

The cosmos has no path, yet, be that as it may, It is your path.

Your existence delights in empty space; fear, in the limited space of your body.

Life lacks interest in its formidable expression; humans advocate interesting reasons.

The Void contains every-thing, the important venture of mankind: nothing.

Life sustains these vast lands, such lands emulate the movement of creation and thus, sustain Life.

Nature contains flowers, flowers provide the balm of nature; humans are also like flowers, though they provide concern and wisdom.

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It hasn’t any sense, yet it has you

Air flows aimlessly clinging to nothing.

Humans work strenuously aiming to possess truth, thus they cling to deception.

Creation depicts Its beauty in Its many colors: always available.

Humans have taken over them! to depict their symbols.

The world: great extensions at one’s disposal.

Humanity: well defined idealisms.

Mystery spawned the universe, the universe engendered the earth, earth invited mankind; oh misery! she was rejected: mankind preferred its gods.

Vitality sings!

The echo resonates in this Creation; humanity also raises its voice, to praise holy anthems.

Life: a riddle without explanation.

Humans: a universe full of interesting answers.

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When Buddhism deceived them

There was once an agglomeration of human beings which we cannot call a civilization; very similar were these sentient beings to the ones that once lived on the peach blossom spring in the era of Tao Qian.

They were oblivious to morality, creeds and harmony; they also ignored everything related to human values and development.

Unacquainted with customs, atavisms and culture, they were unaware that together they formed a community themselves.

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When Buddhism deceived them

However, those sentient beings were able to sense that they were part of the land that held them, welcomed them, fed them, and engendered all Life forms with which they inter-acted.

They were not concerned with too many things, nor did they ask themselves many questions. They simply followed the example of their Mother: everything that shined above Her and everything that hid underneath.

It was for them a numinous joy to be carried away with the orchestrated flow of Life and the compass of creation; no other reasons were needed.

Alas! One-day king Mongkut arrived at the place that today is known as Doi Inthanon.

His message abolished tranquility, obfuscated the natural cadence of those lands, and burdened the weightless walk of the sentient beings who lived there: it was all replaced by the virtuous path to nirvana.

The king brought about knowledge, reincarnation, meditation, karma, the meaning of life, and many questions arose.

Ever since, the people of Doi Inthanon relegated the work of Life and instead became concerned with the work of men. They turned away from the spontaneity of every new dawn and instead became engaged with spirituality.

They left behind the love of their Mother, and instead learned to comply with morality, order, and religion.

Many representatives of the truth soon arrived, and from then on, people's lives were encumbered with delusion.

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Something only She could answer

Not too long ago, a pertinent-seeker who unknowingly roamed the insides of the peach blossom spring in the southern parts of Shanghai, accidentally came across the spring’s modest keeper, and though the appearance of the old garden-keeper was of no distinction, the seeker’s intuition told him that the wisdom of that simple man completely unmatched his unimportant aspect.

As soon as the pertinent-seeker realized he was next to no ordinary person, he halted, bowed, and immediately inquired: “Shifu, is it true that the creative force of the universe is essentially in us and we are potentially in it?”

“How bout the beautiful color of these flowers?! Have you ever seen such hue of pink?”

“Shifu please! Could you just tell me if what the spiritual teachers around the world have preached over time is true?”

“And what could that be?”

“That we are all one, and that that oneness is manifested in the multiplicity.”

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Something only She could answer

“I see. Well… If I tell you that it is in fact true, you will believe to have grasped the ungraspable; but if I tell you that it is not true, I would be lying to you.”

Thereafter, the pertinent young man ceased to be a seeker: today there are no traces of him. Though, curiously enough, some people speak of having seen, not one! but two keepers at the peach blossom spring. *** The moral of this fable, which has been relatively revealed (because it cannot be transmitted) over time by means of various artistic expressions, is that many times, especially when trying to fathom the meaning of Life, we are misled by unnecessary questionings that only distract us from the most beautiful and authentic of meanings with which we can actually inter-act in the here and now.

It is very ironic how by wanting to answer the mysteries of the universe, the answer, which is in our natural relationship with Life, slips through our fingers. But it seems that our obstinate minds don’t know how to die to the self-destructive hopes of one day being able to measure the immeasurable, of figuring out love, and of intellectually assimilating the harmonic movement of this Creation.

Even the greatest galaxies exist within fine boundaries!

The powerful oceans move without forcing their extensions, the screech of the eagle is heard as long as the spirit of the valley, but the struggles of the human mind… alas! nothing more than ridiculous and futile efforts that aim to defy the natural order of things.

Since time immemorial, we have stupidly insisted on savoring the riches of Life by means of books, gurus, paths, methods, teachings, shrines, religions and through many other things that are as illusory and ephemeral as the one who seeks to do so.

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We are all candles that were lit on the same Fire, yet the mind! insists on looking for the source of the light; being essentially Fire has never sufficed! It looks and looks and tries: sometimes it finds illusions, sometimes discovers naught; but luckily, in due time, the Fire melts the candle.

So no matter how much faith we put into our quests of higher significance, we will remain incapable of realizing the timeless

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Something only She could answer

and omnipresent answer: the burning Fire on the candle. The best we can do is to give up every little attempt to do so (very unlikely), to effortlessly enjoy being what we cannot cease to be… one with Life?

The answers to the mysteries of the universe can’t be sought, found, nor talked about, they have to be lived wholeheartedly in the here and now, living is the answer! Inter-being.

Look at the [peach] blossoms!

Their color and scent fall with them, Are gone forever, Yet mindless The spring comes again.

—Said my poet friend Ikkyu

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Spirituality

Human’s innocent interaction with Life is buried in spiritual knowledge.

Some profess clear understanding! They have truly mastered the word and can distinguish the good from the bad, the lost from the wise.

The simple heart is oblivious of divine distinctions: it kindly embraces the good, it gently smiles to the bad.

Some expound spiritual significance and meaning-full reasons to live!

The simple Heart beats naturally, not knowing why. It purifies the earth that holds both the good and the bad, barren lands and green meadows; clear waters, and all of the gods.

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Empty cup

Wise is the page before pretentious words; wise the tree, then it becomes the page.

Wise the unknown ocean depths; luckily, we cannot have them.

Wise the boy I met on the shore.

He sat in the here and now: a haven for the quixotic, a sanctuary far from illusion or truth.

Wise the hummingbird, it never speaks of god.

Wise the cave which upholds the yogi: firm yet passive, imposing! harmless and still; inattentive to brahman.

Not knowing how to love, that is very wise!

LIFE and the life-less human ways

Careless of life and death: no personal importance.

Thus, detached from life, indifferent to death, bare of self: Love.

Steps devoid of path self-less without reason, a simple vacant heart: nothing to lose, emptiness.

A finger pointing to truth! it should be cut.

Better is a crow with no mouth: less unimportant noise.

A way?

Only for what you can know.

Compassion is void of knower and known; what is there to know?

You see it not, you cannot understand.

You want to strive for wisdom?

Better to laugh.

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Empty cup

*** I sat down in a humble ryokan with Nan-in.

“What is wisdom?”, I asked.

Nan-in took a big gulp of tea and said: “The empty cup.

“Just as the valley reveals its extensions for the timeless winds to pass through and the artist exposes her being for inspiration to arise, in the same way, the inclusive stream of Life needs all your available space to manifest, naturally.”

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God in the creation, and the other god in your imagination The writer does not know what the word god means to you, obviously, but in case you relate it to a divine being who observes, supervises, directs, and sketches your life, then he will most likely be incapable of communicating with you through these words in this regard.

Nevertheless, if through the word god you attempt to point to the unfathomable, primordial, and absolute Indescribability from which all universal origins and causes are able to express themselves, then, perhaps, there can be an interesting dialogue.

At the end of the day, it matters very little which words one uses to try to describe the Essence that permeates every-thing: the water from the Wellspring of Life has flowed long before our concepts and will continue to flow long after our gods. Be that as it may, the problem with the present human plight is to believe that we have captured, understood, and pleased that timeless Essence through our minuscule imaginations; thus provoking, ironically, our dissociation (though relative, very palpable in our human walk) with the cadence of that same Essence. As the writer has mentioned in other occasions: voicing the word “water” a million times will never quench our thirst.

The greatest gift and possibility of our lives, indubitably, is to be able to interact, mingle, and stream with the natural expression of Life (earth, creation), expression that we stupidly neglect by surrendering to phantasmagorical creators (gods) rather than

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God in the creation, and the other god in your imagination

giving oneself to the Creation. Fortunately, notwithstanding the seeming disinterestedness of humans to participate in the harmonious ecology of Creation, the Essence remains unchanged, inexorable, one, kind; not so, our human walk.

The human mind has stubbornly sought to please the Origin of Life mainly by means of esoteric imagination and all that this entails. But by resorting to beliefs, paradoxically, one is, in most cases, unable to dance to the rhythm of the Origin itself. The word compassion has no meaning without an act of generosity.

Similarly, the writer can feel, see and experience how most of the time our mind is reluctant to truly acknowledge the artistry of that Origin in all of its forms and expressions (the world that surrounds us); and this is due, of course, because otherwise we would see how anodyne and insignificant are all of the little ideations of humans. So, the mind reassures itself by designing truths that downplay the mundane simplicity and heighten the presumed human soul that, without a doubt! Ha-ha, has a privileged role in the universe.

By the same token, these ingenious truths have not only engendered enormous divisions in humanity between those who accept a certain cosmogonic story and those who prefer another, but they have also prevented us, in most cases, to mingle with the Essence which cannot be described and of which we can only be a part of, naturally, not knowing how.

When we fragment the Origin-al movement of Life between the numinous and the mundane, between the spiritual and the earthly, between gods and illusions, it means we are striving for good and correct living; and believe it or not! that is an endeavor which is far from the stillness of mind (peace): spontaneity, harmonious existence, natural arising. And though esoteric discrimination may seem to reinforce our heavenly stories, it really only drives us away from the Indescribable, natural stream.

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To love God, in the best sense of the phrase, is not to have a convenient and promising relationship with a product of the imagination (god), but it is to embellish the manifestation of Life by adding your own artistic expression, disinterestedly; as if saying to the Indescribability: “Let us create together.”

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The abbot, the wanderer

The abbot, who in his most noble intentions admirably embodied the heavenly commit of the redemption of the souls, prostrated himself, as he always did after his morning orisons, before the abbey’s main door.

It seemed that his robust penance, still far from consecrating him a martyr, granted him the undeniable prerogative in the primordial matter of that remote yet sacred land: becoming part of the divine court.

He rested before the wooden door for a while prior to feeling, as it happened every day, disheartened; he then prayed: “what has estranged my brothers and sisters so much from the love of god?” Attentively, he scrutinized the day-to-day routine of his compatriots, and though everyone, upon seeing him, revered his holy presence, they stubbornly insisted in perpetuating their mundane lifestyles; at least this was the case, before the benevolent eyes of the abbot.

The profane and worldly behavior of his fellow citizens was a tiresome burden that prevented him from successfully carrying out his spiritual duty; but nothing ever alarmed him so much as contemplating the erratic footsteps of the wanderer that walked in

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front of the abbey without having honored, not only his presence, but that of the divine dwelling of that remote land.

“Earthly wanderer! Where are you headed so absentminded?”

“I am joyously lost between the beauty of this creation, and though my path may seem undecided, harmonic landscapes keep me reminded, that I am with Life, intimately united.”

“Don’t you know, heretic soul, that in these landscapes you extol, you will never find the love of god?”

“Sir, of that I was unaware. No one has told me, and ask such absurdity I wouldn’t dare. I am not looking, nor I have something to obtain. I feel at ease! I am of this creation; how could I complain?”

“How dare you call me ‘Sir’? I am the abbot! Your spiritual guide, be aware.”

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The abbot, the wanderer

“Aware I am of your presence, just as much as I am conscious of this cow with whom I travel and whose company fills me with friendly pleasance. But, why do you deserve more esteem than her? Aren’t you both an expression of the same Essence? Nonetheless, if you delight my heart as much as my friend does with your spiritual allure, I will deviate my journey, that in your eyes is nothing but impure.”

“To delight your worldly heart, I care not! My duty is to convey the word of god.”

“You hold divine words, Life holds you and all the possible words.

I prefer give heed to Her, even if that means being lost.”

“Do not be so stubborn, let me show you the way. Isn’t your heart in need of truth?”

“My heart has lost nothing; thus, it has nothing to find. Curiosity, amid the beauty of this universe, is only a game of a troublesome mind. Instead, if you’d like, I welcome you aboard my wandering route; perhaps walking along the wondrous simplicity of this earth, you will finally mute your quest and experience the subtle caress of the Absolute.” *** Deny I cannot that your rhetoric enthralls, but is me you attempt to guide?

I am an abbot, a numinous soul!

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Oblivious is your path of the divine goal; epitomize you do the delusion of this world.

Desire for heaven, I know not, all is full of One Love, that your divine expertise will never, in my heart, sow.

Now I must go for worthy I am not of your holy enclosure.

My being has an eternal date with Life, its creation, its mysteries and its humble exposure.

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The wise, the fool, the artist

The writer came across some lines that exhorted him to dwell in the artist; he chose to be prosperous. Oh misfortune! Too late did he realize that the prosperity of mankind does not embellish the sceneries of Life.

The wise gives its being to Life, the artist hands out his creation, the fool champions important matters.

The fool is concerned about the children’s future, the artist is forever a child.

The cloud of unknowing dignifies the wise, freedom does so with the artist; work dignifies the fool.

The wise plays with Her, the artist contemplates Her delicately, the fool earnestly tries to describe Her. The artist smiles humbly at the wise simplicities of Creation, the fool boasts about his knowledge of life.

The artist composes, the fool works to gain; the wise is like the always available fragrance of the rose.

The artist aspires in his creation to represent the harmony of Life, the fool needs to be represented.

The fool seeks to be admired, the artist to share love through his rarely understood expressions: the wise is that love.

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The fool yearns for the perfect day, the artist hopes to compassionately decorate the imperfections of the world.

The delight of the wise is too beautiful to be written, the artist’s bliss is the melody of Life; the fool is enthralled by perishable forms.

The fool justifies his flaws in his human condition, the artist adorns his existence with simple human traits; the wise, before being an artist, is a great human being.

These were the lines the writer dared to reject.

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How am I to live?

Do children invite laughter into their lives, purposely? Do mothers ever ask how to breastfeed their child/cub? Do hearts wonder how to beat or birds in which direction to fly?

How am I to live? Is a question which can only be made by a feeble and fragmented conditioning, namely, an isolated egotistical structure desirous of a compensation from Life, just because.

The winds refresh by virtue of not knowing how to refresh, the harmony of the here-and-now is spontaneous generosity; the child cries when hungry and invariably loves without discrimination; who could teach her how to love and cry?

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How am I to live? Is an outcry of desperation inflicted by our unnatural ways that will never find a genuine and purpose-less answer. Nonetheless, it is a query that will get many important and purpose-full responses that often disharmonize our compassionate possibilities in the ecology in which we live.

“How” implies a designed way distant from the pristine cadence of creation. It entails a method, a walk of personal interest (is that the interest of Life?), but above all, and what is most important to the inquirer: a reward. What reward gets the earth that we destroy for sustaining our living?!

Isn’t being part of this magnificent movement a good enough gift? “Oh no! you ought to be rewarded at the end of your life! “ Thus, immersed in “hows” and good advice, we rarely actually shine. And while an inclusive universal manifestation embraces us, we are overshadowed by serious, mysterious, spiritual, religious, moral, rigid, competitive, and useless ways and answers.

Our bodies (just as any other body, expression or form) develop, interact, and reintegrate into the natural and allembracing stream: that of the Wellspring of Life. A stream in which all things are able to express their suchness and naturality, not knowing how: a possibility that not even the most sacred “how” can contain. Our bodies are here to feed these bountiful lands! Won’t that ever be good enough for the little self? Perhaps until it becomes these bountiful lands.

Humans, are originally full of Her: nothing of more importance can be done. Yet, we forsake our possibilities and hence give place to respectable ways, right duty, and good living. Thence, of course, we need “hows” to solve our own riddles.

The beginnings of humans were clouded by follies, but now, now we are clouding the whole of creation.

How am I to live? Is the donkey chasing a carrot on a stick: no matter how much it tries, it never actually gets there.

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Where’d you think you were going?

“Death is near!”

Why so surprised? Why so much fear? The ship of destiny you hoped to steer?! Please. Forget about your triumphs and belongings, your past ends here.

“I’ve got cancer: a deadly omen!”

Relax, why so much torment? Your body, since the beginning, was nothing but a fleeting moment!

“I face mortality!”

What took you so long to see? Perhaps you were too afraid to blend in with Life’s scenery; thus, you were struck by causality. You came from the Void! but focused only on your transitory form, hence, missed the Totality.

“This is so unexpected!”

It is only because the Essence of Life your walk rejected! The Void, the no-form, the Movement, the Totality: were by you neglected; poor little thing, now you feel so unprotected! But, why so much fear to die? Have you not been proclaiming, since far-off times, that the prophets’ truths are still alive?

“I will abandon my people!”

Are you really that special? I must tell you: in your world of forms not even a star is substantial. Here, only the Void is essential.

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“ I got old too soon!”

Surely with the laws of Creation you were not in tune. If you would have lived empty, as does the rose, at the right moment you would have bloomed. Yet, don’t worry so much, you’re essentially the Void: of the confinements of time your Heart is immune.

“The sad event of my demise!”

How much drama for when there should be so much peace! If anything, you should be at ease: from the burden of time, seeking, answers, beginnings, and ends, you will be released.

Get up, get up! You don’t have to get on your knees! It suffices to see that your essence will not be missed! You have nowhere to go, nowhere to return, and nowhere else to be; you are of the Void, regardless of what you can, or cannot see.

But I will share a secret: nothing dies, nothing is born, it is just that you are oblivious of the playful forms. Colors change, how beautiful! yet you feel forlorn. Life gives you everything! you still want more. You sound with the universal melody! but you want your own song. Life is the greatest gift! yet you are terrified of being “reborn”. It is all a scenery of inclusion, that you have denied to adorn.

Don’t worry, your fear will not last long.

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The awakening of the self

Since time immemorial, the sages, the contemplators of the universe, and the so-called mystics, have unequivocally expressed that humankind is, in most cases, “living” in a state of consciousness which is far from being in tune with the natural laws of Creation; besides being destructive, divisive, and very deceiving. They have also argued that we, human beings, live in a dream state due to our inability to appreciate our essence and its intimate relationship with the movement of Life. Thus, this dream, which completely obfuscates the potential of our sensitivity, makes us prisoners of other potentialities: those of the egotistical mind. So how does a person realize it has been dreaming if it has not yet woken up? If a person doesn’t know that it doesn’t know, it will think it knows.

The challenge of realizing the maculated state of consciousness in which we “live” today, it’s a tremendous defiance that requires a myriad of humbleness, and to allow that dream (the “I” structure) to vanish, to become nothing, insignificant, insubstantial, and unprotected; paradoxically that can only be done, perhaps, by forgetting about the self and by realizing the expression of Life with which it inter-acts. Otherwise, it is probably impossible to be part of the art of living (which is always in tune with the rhythm of creation) when our reality has been subjected, mostly, to the fears and caprices of a dream.

The awakening of the self is not a recent matter, from the ancient times of Lao-Tzu to the modern days of Karl Renz, all beings who

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have evolved (in this sense) have tried to express (and the writer also hopes that they have exemplified it in their human walk) the indescribable union of which we are all part of, and which is always disfigured by our dreamlike state of consciousness.

In the Christian tradition, there have been several mystics like St. John of the Cross or Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, who understood that they had to die to all the accumulated theological knowledge and go into the cloud of unknowing to rejoice in the ineffable union with Creation. In the Muslim faith, there have also been conspicuous mystics like Shams Tabrizi, who was in fact the mentor of Rumi (arguably the greatest Sufi poet), and Abu’l Hasan Fushnaji who described the essence of Sufism as “a reality without name”. In the same way, this awakening has been expressed differently around the world: samadhi, nirvana, enlightenment, satori, moksha, bodhi, salvation and heaven, among others. And despite the many descriptions of the awakening of the self from the distinct approaches and cultures throughout time, all agree that it is an inclusive state of consciousness.

Nonetheless, the names that we could give to this awakening have no importance whatsoever; as the same Abu’l Hasan Fushnaji said: names have no reality. The awakening is something that must be experienced, savored, but most importantly, manifested in our relationship with Life.

The awakening unearths the sensitivity of our nature, the awakening allows us to flow harmoniously with the movement of Life while burying the “I” structure; the awakening wipes out the points of views of the self that only represent a very limited “truth”, and empties the space of our being so we can open to the possibility of continuous discovery: where there is no more need of truths.

The awakened beings of this world (not only human, of course), express their love without the need of words which most of the time only confuse us, and in case they do use words, they adopt a language that can be like sweet honey to every single

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The awakening of the self

heart that exists (not only human, of course): this message would never circumscribe the beauty of creation into beliefs, cultures, doctrines, religions, species, lineage, and/or traditions.

For the human who has awaken from the fragmenting dream, all sentient beings are equally great, whatever each one practices or beliefs is of no importance, for he has seen that we all depict the same Consciousness, or put in simpler terms, we all are an intimate community (not only human, of course) sharing the same space: earth.

He who has awakened from the individualistic illusion and its intricacies, doesn’t discriminate; he doesn’t feel superior nor inferior to any other being: therein lies humility. He has seen himself as a part of the artistic movement of Life, hence, has comprehended that his living function in nature’s expression is as valuable as that of the sun or a fly, thus, respects all other forms.

It is a being who has joyfully substituted the destructive pattern of “I want”, for the inclusive notion of “I can” that renders us compatible with our fellow-men and with the whole planet earth; without the need to belittle the other forms of Life which for the dreamer normally have less importance in the universal order of things: animals, plants, minerals, water, empty space, etc.

The awakened ones carry out their natural function after having emptied their minds (even if it is for fleeting moments) and opened their hearts, making their life’s message resonate with the same melodic joy with which the birds trill indiscriminately. The heart of the awakened one sings! and so does his life. It matters not if he is a doctor, a bricklayer, a schoolteacher, a yogi or a vagrant.

He doesn’t seek, does not compete, walks empty: has nothing to lose. The awakened ones share and create, and so, without them even noticing, they become glorious among the great, brilliant among the stars, wise among the sages, and an example to all.

The writer must admit that there was a moment in his life in which he doubted: he didn’t believe that there could exist (at

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least in our society) beings who were completely kind, absolutely inclusive, void of prejudices, and always loving; he thanks Life because She showed him, through some awakened people he has met in his human walk, Her most marvelous expression.

In any case, today, the writer can see that She always displayed that magnificent expression, everywhere, in all of Her colors and flavors, but he is most of the time too busy vivifying a dream: comparing, scrutinizing, believing, ideating, seeking, criticizing.

Luckily, despite the dreamers of which the mystics talk about, there are living beings who depict tirelessly through their daily relationship with Life, the art of being awake; though it seems we are oblivious of this. The writer refers to the trees who share their love incessantly through the oxygen we breath; the air that refreshes everything on its way while attaching to nothing; the flowers which share their fragrance until their petals fall off; the sun that shines daily with the same intensity without asking if you do it too: this is the splendor of humility! capable of warming everything it touches. The writer also alludes to the spontaneous smile of a baby which does not judge, which without knowing, gives away all the love there is to give.

The being who was awakened from the illusion of being the controller and owner of a life exploits the potential of the body by comprehending it as a vehicle capable of inspiring, loving, guiding, understanding, creating, and sharing. Not because he is expecting heaven or a reward, but because it is our function, which as everything else in this creation, it should be always in tune with the current of Life. The being who has awakened embraces the uncertainty that terrifies the dreamer: the uncertainty of notknowing; and thus, not knowing why, he loves infinitely.

However, the writer understands how scary it is for a dreamer to think about waking up; it is basically a suicidal attempt (for the mind), isn’t it? Can you imagine the meaning of Life without a personal purpose, without a path, without enlightenment or

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The awakening of the self

heaven? Ha-ha! No, you probably cannot. But when you realize that you have nothing to solve, to find, to achieve, no other paradise to go to, and that there is essentially no One who needs to wake up because no One was ever asleep, that means, the end of the dream, the awakening of the self; and puff! There You are, manifested, without the dreamer.

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Meditation and the stone buddhas

There was once an ascetic who had been practicing meditation for over twenty years on the sacred mountain range of the Himalayas.

However, despite years of intense practice and profound contemplation he felt that something was still missing, that wisdom was yet to be acquired.

The ascetic had once heard of Zhuang Zhou, the notorious life teacher of his time, so, without much hesitation, he left the cave in which he had been for many years prostrated to go in search of the famous Chinese sage.

When he finally arrived at the abode of the great Zhuang Zhou, he said: “Shifu, please allow me to learn from you what I could not after twenty years of meditation in the Himalayas.”

“Before I acquiesce, just answer me this: after such a long time, you must have learned something substantial, I’m sure those years were not in vain; what did Life share with you amid those mountains?”, asked Zhuang Zhou.

“Let me show you, shifu.” The monk delicately adopted the lotus flower posture and became one with the breath.

“Leave immediately! My beautiful world has no use of selfish stone buddhas like you.”

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Meditation and the stone buddhas

*** Just as it happened with the ascetic, the subtle delights of life are tarnished by the mind when we relate them to some sort of secret wisdom or hypothetical transcendental states that one is supposed to reach at some point in time. Meditative practices often seduce our imagination, and that definitely strengthens individualistic desires; and the more we stir our phantasmagoric imagination and hope for a numinous state, the more the mind deviates our compassionate nature from the simple and always accessible gifts of Creation.

Whatever it is that one “acquires” from practicing meditation, it is always going to be like the knowledge that the architect needs to assemble a beautiful building: fragile before the whims of nature, flimsy like a stone buddha. What knowledge or practice is needed to scent the odor of the rose, to give, to share a smile, to be filled with empathy, or to be captivated by the elegance of a hummingbird? What knowledge or practice needs the tree to always share the oxygen that keeps us alive?

True meditation can only sprout in selflessness, it can only flourish in innocence; never amid individual pursuits. Without practice, a sincere act of kindness can take your mind to total silence without you even noticing; thus, you return to the natural state of things, to the harmonic flow of Creation, instantly! without years of ridiculous repetition.

How absurd would it be to try to find Life?! Whether you are conscious of the living quality in you or not, you are part of It, you are It! In the same way, it is very foolish to set out in search of the ambrosia of meditation since it has never been absent in anyone’s heart (essence), rather, the mind has just been too distracted trying to meditate and therefore sculpting a stone buddha.

Nevertheless, the writer must also admit there is nothing wrong with enjoying the self-hypnosis, relaxation, distraction and/or entertainment that you can obtain while sculpting a

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stone buddha, but if you can also savor the nectar of impersonal meditation and hence share your natural selfless potential with the world, it would be very selfish not to, that at least, in the eyes of the writer. In the end, meditation is all about being reciprocal with the Life that gives us all, all the time.

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Those who under-stand living

“What about the human ways without those who under-stand?”

“As ignorant and still as the rock where grows the hill.

“Those who under-stand tightly guard the key to life: tightly kept in the sacred words of the books, of god.

“Such are the teachers of life! Founders of centers to see truth; and still the blind rock holds them all.

“They insist on straightening the human path; the horizon continues to bend their fleeting aspirations.

“Their truths have always cared for human’s time-to-come; yet we continue, timelessly: what was ever born?

“Their understanding is a great movement that brings people together: both break before the stillness of the rock.

“Their truth is said to be beyond the stars and greater than the skies! Nowhere near the Life I breathe.”

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An unsought (spiritual?) encounter

The composer of these words would like to clarify: the story narrated herein, which attempts to revivify a true event, is no longer precise.

It is at best a tribute to what really happened to that man while in a promising, self-imposed ostracize.

In the lower Himalayan range, is where his relentless-seekingspirit decided to epitomize the supreme-self. He would, at last, be able to leave behind the trivial temporality of the human plight to flow harmoniously with the abiding cadence of the universes.

However, after many years of living amongst the auspicious mountains, his life became as remote as the cave in which he was in. But to him it was all too glorious! Untouchable, meaningful, a Buddha-like figure; undisturbed.

His daily breathing practices, a meditative demeanor, countless reflections and a starred sky, had been until then his most loyal, inseparable friends.

With each rising sun, came back the arduous and patient practitioner who humbly expected only one thing from the world: the moment of self-transcendence.

His guru: the silent expression of that isolated environment, firmly approved of his divine venture. He no longer had to listen to the dissenting voices of the mundane minds; the roar of the timeless winds assured his path.

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An unsought (spiritual?) encounter

But the auspicious mountains failed to predict what was to occur one morning under the waking-sun: the muting of the guru’s soothing roar. So, on that unpredictable dawn, as soon as the man heard the resonance of the Sage’s universal presence, all other noises, divine and mundane, ceased to exist.

After a contemplating instant, the man shut his eyes and dared to disturb the sublime presence of the Sage: “This simple abode is not worthy of your presence.”

“What makes you say that?! Are you still oblivious of the all-pervading essence?”

“I was moved by your feeble, seeking-condition; desolation has conned you, and instead of flowing naturally, this cave has filled you up with selfish ambition.

“Life made you heir to the freshest air! She shared Her world with you so that you too, could be as She is: generous and fair. But Instead, you sit here alone on selfish prayer.

“You were given countless landscapes so that you too could add your colors, and look at you now! isolated, ungrateful, greedy; oblivious of Her, focused only on your morrows.”

“Humanity distracts me with its empty paths; forgive me Sage, but I want to be next to you, the sacred avatars.”

“Don’t worry, I get you. Mankind is for men the most destructive strife.

Before savoring the natural currents of Life, they are devoted to beliefs that persuade them to look up “high”, forgetting that beneath the mud is where the roots of the flowers hide; without the slimy worms, there would be no honey on the hive.

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“The sweetness of the fig resides on the modesty of the seed, but you care only for a luscious fruit to eat, and forget the totality of the tree.

“If you can’t rejoice in the universal generosity amongst the “mundane” multiplicity, you may sit here for a thousand years! only to condemn your kind naturality.

“Since time immemorial humankind has profited from the amity of the natural creation, alas! this privilege has only led them to destructive temptation. And you are! by being here, segregated, an example of human’s egoistic interpretation, of Life.

“The glaring galaxies, the moon’s hue; the harmonious way of the valleys, a lonely cave, you: the same essence through and through.”

“Forgive me Sage, I don’t know what else to say.”

“You expect your beliefs to have special notoriety, and the divinity you have imagined, eternal continuity. But even the brightest sun, in the course of time, becomes no-thing; the wish of humans to perpetuate their legacy, is, of course, an absurdity.”

“I see it dear Sage: instead of mingling with the sceneries of Life, ‘divinity’! so stupidly I have tried to find.

“Wait! Please don’t leave before guiding my erratic mind.”

“Just forget about the ‘divine’, and of trying to grasp the infinite; you will never figure out the beauty you have not created. Also, disregard your ideas of love, I rather suggest you befriend this earthly manifestation.

“And please don’t worry! I will not be afar, whenever you want to hear me just shut your eyes, and listen to the singing of the heart.”

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Meeting of the birds

First spoke he, from the far east: From the cycle of Saṃsāra humanity must aim to be released; if they fail to attain enlightenment, the painful ravages of karma in their next life time will be unleashed.

Said the man in white: No sinner here is yet worthy of the divine courtesy. Life is clearly laid out in the sacred scriptures, there are no second chances in the prophecy: either they follow the word, or forever they will flame in agony.

Expressed the representative: With truth, their mundane existence I shall purify. Deception my words defy! Hence, they must believe, and need not ask why.

Ungrateful he who my truthful message dares to deny; if so, in due time their wrongdoing, life will vilify.

Conveyed the ruler: Before life’s natural flow, we must place morality and the law. Long live the constitution! Let there be freedom, order, and peace for all.

Interrupted the most noble disciple of all: From the wisdom of my guru I hope to gain, that which out of life, I was not able to obtain.

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Meeting of the birds

At last, the uninvited fool spoke softly to them: I am of this creation: there is nowhere to go, nowhere either to return.

A thousand times I wish to die, thus, a thousand times the expression of Life I can praise. Among the meadows, no matter the season, a thousand times I want to be raised.

If I become a plant, I will suffer thirst.

If I become a human, time, fear, and doubt will guide my unfruitful search.

If I am knowledge, alas! kindness in my heart will be austere.

If I become important, is the end of the world that I will fear.

Thus, I remain That which is expressed in all the forms of the universal sphere.

A star, a worm, a beating heart, or a bird’s nest, I could care less! in everything, That always rests.

Colorful, mysterious, a riddle without answer; an unnamable caress: it is the game of life! That the holy birds uselessly wish to guess.

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The prophet’s mistake (consequent to the Meeting of the birds)

Overwhelmed by the heavy breeze that the Meeting of the Birds left in the universe, the prophets (at least of these lands) decided to purify the dense air so that they could, once again, provide for the world and for themselves, a fresh respite.

The prophets understood that the breeze that carried such grief, had, in its moment, been prompted by the forceful gust of their message. The guilt of their conspicuous mistake seemed, on this occasion, more compelling than the noble entrust that once spurred their heavenly news.

Expounded Abraham with matchless pessimism: I am, until today, considered the father of Judaism, but worthy of being exalted my image is not, it has only disunited the human race between myths and isms. The prophecies pledged in my lineage, generations of spiritual heroism. Oh, the confusion is great! Was it my fault, that of the tales, or is it heaven’s mistake?

Moises continued with the bitter, yet prophetic interaction: Commandments! Many more I could have shared. But, how much freedom have they meant in all these years of human despair?

Rules are only necessary in civil affairs. Until now, the other Birds, that were in these lands long before the prophets were, showed me that the ignorance that makes you of god unaware, is more inclusive than a code of conduct that renders you fear’s heir.

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The prophet’s mistake

Zoroaster’s voice flared: “Life is an epic battle of opposing forces”, I wrongfully said. Since always, the other Birds revealed but one affable path, and I still lured people’s minds into misleading courses. Unfruitfully I challenged the polytheistic faith, thinking: “My strife, the stairway to god reinforces”, What a fool! When contemplating life, there are no battles, reasons, gods nor causes.

Siddhartha Gautama, in his mild distinctive tone: Desire, I suggested to leave behind. My voice disclosed in sermons that the cycle of Life driven by karma was a burden that our existence needed to put aside. Today I see, in the flight of the other Birds, that Creation of nothing needs to be freed. But that I did not imbue, and now, now reincarnation, the self, suffering, and hope for liberation, are my legacy’s obsession and creed. Today I continue to be a form-less manifestation of Creation, and to be included in that wondrous expression, long hours of meditation that awaited self-realization I did not need.

Lao-Tzu and his cryptic discourse, came forth: Tao: such an abstract concept, what was it worth? Ambiguously I tried pointing out in words to the majestic simplicities of this earth; not being that foolish enough, my ideations mankind made worse, by ascribing it truth, priority, and spiritual oath. I should have contemplated Tao silently, alas! I spoke of it stubbornly. Of the heavy breeze that the meeting of the birds left, I am also guilty.

Resurrected among the prophets, Jesus the mystic: Salvation of the soul is a hoax, no one had to die on the cross! I Invited humanity to see the inexhaustible light that it was; but I have been deified, structured, represented, and the love that I tried to share seems to be completely lost. I should have always remained an artisan; that way, on this heavy breeze, there would

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be less dust. What does an innocent smile, a green meadow, a harmless cub, or the flight of a bird need to be saved from? Only from the human mind!

Mani ventured out in words; words that once jeopardized him (in these lands): I declared myself an apostle of Christ, hoping that by representing his virtue, wisdom in humanity I would entice; all the Birds can blame me! the fault is mine. How naive is to represent the message of a man, and not that of Life? I wanted for beliefs and religions to unite: dismaying plight. Nothing needs to be united, it is all One harmonious movement of hues, artistry and subtleties, separated only in our minds.

Muhammad ended the appeasing breeze of the prophets (of these lands): My tradition remains perverse: wasting human living rebuking the infidels. I consolidated the Islamic faith, state and morals; I rested on my laurels. I… despicable spiritual human quarrels. I refuse to miss, once again, the other Birds’ chorus. *** Came once more the other Birds, prophets of all the lands; sweetening with their flutter the despondency of the prophets, of these lands, and at the same time, dismissing the gloomy air of their sisters’ meeting.

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No one needs to meditate Following teachings [and practices] for nirvana is taking autumn leaves for gold.

- Huang Po

Who said it was necessary to meditate? It could have been a book, perhaps it was fear, inquisitiveness, desperation, or maybe the shadow of a teacher. Whatever the case may be, it is certain that Life never advised anyone to do it; being heedful of Life’s melody is in itself the most magnificent meditation.

Does a child need to be aware of joy to smile innocently?

Or our existence realize itself to exist? When one is attentive to the universal rhythm and moves with the harmonious sounds of nature, one becomes tremendously alive and flows with the Movement that has no room for meditative efforts.

“Sadly, you get distracted trying to find your ‘true’ self. Truth is a product of fear, of blindness, of pride, of illusion. Life is complete as it is. Your ideas, facts, concepts or realizations are useless: what new colors could they add to creation? The Absolute has neither poles nor opposites, the truth of mankind does. The wholeness of Life is too great for words, yet humans insist on preaching.

“Imitate the Life that lives in you! Shine like the sun, gleam like the moon, share your fragrance as does the rose, give your entire being to all as does the tree, move as freely and generously as the hummingbird, detach from greatness as does the coconut from the palm-tree, rise nobly and quietly as the mountain peak, and, as with art, may the cadence of creation inspire your way.

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“The art of living is a natural and selfless expression, not a pretentious attempt. But if you’d like, investigate Life earnestly, meditate or lose yourself in orison, although you will not be any closer or further from what you have always been, you will at least distract the ego by allowing it to think, something it has seen.”

That is what I heard, from the trilling of the bird.

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A necessary message The fundamental delusion of humanity is to suppose that I am here and you are out there.

- Yasutani Roshi

It is understandable that human beings completely identify themselves with the existential plane in which they are raised and with which they relate throughout their Life. It is also comprehensible, to some extent, that humans discard any experience or situation that is not compatible with the sociocultural environment in which they develop. What is inconceivable, however, is that after eons of divisive conditioning (nations, casts, religions, creeds, political systems, doctrines, etc.), humans insist on improving and bringing together the world through the exclusive “truth” of the context that they are familiar with.

Our dismembered humanity has been in need of a humanistic message beyond words! It seems that most of the time we are oblivious of the fact that today there are more than seven billion people on our planet, that is to say, seven billion “truths”.

Therefore, it doesn’t matter how kind your intentions may be or how noble you consider your undertaking, when trying to impose your “truth”, you are aggressively participating in the divisive human plight.

As long as we don’t dare to detach from the constellation of thoughts with which we identify and that represent a very limited reality, we will continue fostering human dismemberment with all that it entails; only through an inclusive natural mind/heart with ecumenical horizons will a unifying humanistic message be able to be spread (though now, perhaps, it is too late).

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In reality, an honest unifying humanitarian message is not in need of opinions, activists, organizations, institutions nor truths; what truth could be more real than Life?

And ironically, this honest message has always been exemplified by the most honest envoy: Mother Earth. She has been an unbiased, humble, spontaneous, fair, simple and pure Messenger. She has conveyed an impersonal message more powerful than any belief; She has communicated a message devoid of assumptions, points of views, reasons or opinions, a message free of the destructive idiosyncrasy of humankind and its private collectivity.

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The fable of silence

Somebody once told me that there was something extraordinary about silence that I had to experience for my own sake; that to refuse that elucidating encounter would be of anyone’s life, the greatest mistake. It was also said to me that this endeavor I could not afford to forsake, for it was full of answers, peace, and the wisdom that one needed to become awake.

Then, as supposedly did the wise men, looking for silence I went.

The perilous noise of the mind I was prepared to circumvent!

Hoping, as it was promised to me, to delight in a numinous, enriching event.

But I knew not where to begin!

I first followed a few teachers who between mantras, austerities, and techniques, noise promised to appease. “Empty the mind”: ordered the masters’ expertise. Deny I will not that while in practice my mind was extraordinarily at ease; but outside the teachers’ enclosure, the turbulence returned to my ears. I stopped following the teachers: the noise from my mind they failed to appease.

“In a monastery, that’s where it is!”, I said to myself. “An invitation to the gathering of monks and spirituality, silence would never

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dismiss.” Long hours in lotus position and isolation, hinted that it was soon to happen: freedom from the noisy condemnation.

“Why can’t you go away!” I shouted after a while with a voice of dismay. Alas! I wrongfully thought that amid the monks there was no suffering, struggles or noise that could my heart betray. Sad I was, for once again, I had to search for silence in another way.

I pondered while walking away: “Monks are relentless hunters, hoping to trap an elusive prey.”

I climbed the sacred mountains, lived inside ancient caves, I purified my soul with the water of the holy rivers and lakes; I was certain that from the grandeur of these natural wonders, silence could not be far away.

Patiently I waited amid the natural orchestration, it was sure that among the essence of life I would soon enjoy the quietest contemplation. However, the buzz of the wind and the roar of the waves only heightened my frustration.

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The fable of silence

While coming down from the mountain I encountered the socalled religious men. They pledged to show me something greater than silence, but first I had to be redeemed. I placed all my faith in them, for they talked to me not as a stranger, but as the sweetest of friends.

“Prayer is the only way out of your noisy fears.” And that, please believe me, I did for many years! I was challenged by hunger, discipline, contrition and tears; but it all seemed worth it! Silence, and something greater, would soon appear.

I submerged myself in the religious depths: I discovered faith, solved the mysteries of life, and memorized all the sacred texts.

And yet, despite my honest intention, silence was still the cause of my daily frustration. Suddenly, I purposely dropped my strength and determination; my life’s journey had only guided me to deception.

In the end, silence I was never able to comprehend. They were good for nothing! My will, teachers, monasteries, nature, and the religious men. I realized too late that the noise in my mind would never end.

I forgot about silence, for noise before dying I wanted to challenge: “Where do you come from? You must pay for my life’s damage!”

I waited until my deathbed, but just as silence did, noise had also seemed to be vanished.

Dear me! Too late did I realize that noise and silence were as true as my life was real. And because I was obsessed with promising ideals, the love of creation I was never able to feel. What was originally supposed to be a celebration (my life), ended up being an unfortunate ordeal.

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***

Just as it happened in this fable, we humans stupidly insist on finding the elixir of Life. How can you try to find something that is everywhere?! We are surrounded by the universal expression!

Where can it hide? It has given us such magnificent colors, lakes, skies, birds, fruits, trees, friends, oceans.

If we the need to find something meaningful it is perhaps because our sensibility is tarnished by our selfish distractions (usually spiritual). Life gives us all, all the time; maybe is us who are afraid of giving all to Life.

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Life’s mockery of human’s “free will”

“My future depends on me!”

Is that so? Then, from now on, Life’s Movement is in your hands: make sure the sun is always willing to shine, give your heart a good reason to beat; coax the trees into giving up their green for your air clean, spin the earth for a light-less sleep, and then some.

You think Life will consult you before expressing Herself? Or even worse! that you can change Her course?

“But I can accomplish what I want!”

As luck would have it, you are as fleeting as your accomplishments.

So go ahead! satiate your appetite for success, it is well known that your walk is driven by the form.

“Still, I am free to choose the life I live!”

Who chose your existence? Can you choose your tomorrows? Did you choose this world? The possibilities of your freedom are less than those of a caged bird. Yet not all is bad! You can always move from here to there choosing the thoughts that fill your voids.

“Don’t I create my own reality?”

Mystery is the closest you’ll ever be to reality. Do you wish to know the reality of your “free will”?

“Please!”

A fluke of the universe hoping to matter much.

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A satire of Life against the little world of men “I feel for the starving children!”

I see ten thousand dogs on the street. Is the dreaming of a child more important than the sound sleep of an orphaned raven? What comes first in the natural order of things: a flea, a man, a star? You grieve at the death of men! Do you also feel for a barren field?

“Life, to some, has been unfair.”

Again, you distort creation’s interplay! The falling leaf, the cherry blossom; the crooked tree and the fruitful bush, full hearts and empty valleys; clear skies, thunderstorms: endless beginnings.

Life is indeed kind in her balanced manifestation.

“But life to me…”

Wait! When you say “life”, do you refer only to your little human plight? Foolish indeed you are by speaking of Her without having been to the common-grounds of earth and sky! The resting place of the universe, the Wellspring of manifestations: the horizon.

“We still need to save this planet, our planet!”

You mean do what’s best for humans in their self-attributed world!

Life’s movement is a fair balance between dying and regenerating; any lasting expression will eventually cease to be harmonious; phenomena’s fate is to conclude. Human’s insidious attempt to prevail, fortunately, is their own demise. Be happy for the children

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A satire of Life against the little world of men

to die! Be happy you will all soon die! Have you not claimed to love the movement Life?

“So, we do nothing to alleviate the pain?”

What can you do anyway? Feed the children, plant some hundred trees so you can breathe better, save your soul, ha-ha! Help others to save their soul?! When you cherish the Life of the caged bird as much as the existence of your mother, when you water a tree, not for the fruits! but because it is your friend; when you hug a stranger as if hugging yourself, only then, touched by the stillness of the horizon, you can add something to Life: spontaneously, compassionately, effortlessly, detachedly.

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An unexpected satire of Life against education “They are our hope and future!”

“Get ready, study hard, or you will not get very far! “ And thus, without anyone noticing, youngsters have less freedom than donkeys do on a farm.

“Apply yourselves, there’s not enough to eat!”

Earth is your most faithful friend, if you took care of it, everyone could have a feast. But you esteem the elite: entrepreneurs, politicians, the mighty and the priest; recognition to the noble peasants seems to have ceased. “Children! go to the cities, life in the countryside is obsolete.”

“Education can stop this disastrous sequel!”

Up in the mountains, where there are no schools, is where I found the kindest people. Only next to nature can a person’s life be harmonious, rich and simple; but since you celebrate knowledge, you destroy your planet while implementing theories that are supposed to make you “equal”. You don’t have to know how to read to be generous, honest, peaceful.

“But we must help them fly!”

What a seductive lie! With the establishment they are forced to comply; tradition they better not dare to defy. So, teachers! prepare them well, if they have enough money, at least they can choose where to die.

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An unexpected satire of Life against education

“As for their happiness?”

When the day finally comes for which they have arduously prepared, ha-ha! maybe happiness will be there waiting, unimpaired. Meanwhile the country-boy about happiness does not care; he rolls, plays and sings next to the freshness that the green meadows share.

“What about their illiteracy?”

Through knowledge you expect them to live significantly? Frame your titles and your remarkable experience! They will remind us that you chased success, stupendously. Meanwhile in the meadow, boys and bees share the pollen of the flowers, selflessly.

“Solutions for our problems they must find!”

Welcome new members of humankind! Don’t you worry too much, your path is already defined. Who cares about freedom when you can help everyone “shine”?! Just remember: the key is to stay within the line.

“But they will be mediocre, if we let them rest!”

No time for dreaming people! working is always first. Learn from those who have power, not from those who have thirst.

“What else can they become?”

They never know what they are, yet they are always obsessed with what they will be. So, study child, study! Perhaps in the books the future of your life you can foresee. Meanwhile in the meadow, a boy forgot about his existence, while hugging a tree.

“Their art must be qualified!”

You heard children! If your expression is not comprehended, it will be nullified. In society’s recognition, your value will reside. If your art does not coincide with popular expectations, it shall be denied.

So, you must polish your heart! until its qualified. Meanwhile in

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the meadow a boy takes a joyride: under the sun, next to the cows, right there! where human’s essence is vivified.

“And knowledge?”

Just keep investing in schools! Who cares if nature suffers, as long as there are fewer fools. Let’s just hope you get closer to Life by following the rules. Meanwhile in the meadow, a boy understands Creation, while kissing his mule.

Life and humanity seem to clash.

But who cares!

If nature is destroyed knowledge will last.

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On making a living (wondered while gazing at the horizon)

Amidst these days, it seems that my fellow-birds (humans) are perturbed by a suffocating query: how will I make a good living?

This latent question, strangler of our naturalness and our insightful creativity, is, indisputably, the cage in which we (the birds) are imprisoned, and which stops us from flying. Then, of course, as it always happens, resignation becomes the only attractive path; a path which invites us to conform to the birdseeds provided within the prison-bars that delineate mediocrity and the lack of reciprocity before Life’s generosity.

This shaping query, which emanates from our dread to discover the inexhaustible possibilities of living, and the extensions of Life, makes us (the birds) forget that our flight will expire, our yearns and so will our hunger.

And please, feel free to judge the composer of these words!

He is well aware that what is conveyed herein, is not a familiar message to the non-flying bird (the ego).

On the other hand, congruous with the interplaying winds of creation is the bird that, despite the fact that it could get lost, and in spite of a “nurturing” cage, it did not refuse to spread its wings, but rather refused the invitation for a meaningless existence; an invitation to be just another ornament of the well-arranged enclosure, of the birds.

These universes also belong to us, the birds! What could we really have to lose?

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The other little birds, which are our teachers, always fly (well, except those which are put in cages for the perverse distraction of humankind): some get lost, some never return to their nest, some fail to find food, and some realize exemplary feats; but none, none! refuse to spread their wings.

So, what are my fellow-birds doing within the bars (eight to five, that is the reality of the system, I need to eat, it is impossible, I need to be someone important, life is hard; conformity, mediocrity, repetition, fear) of that detestable self-destructive cage?

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On making a living

*** In the flight of little birds we can observe the art of circling the skies, in the dolphins, the art of sailing the waves; in the voice of the crickets we hear the night-time song, and in humans… no, that is not art; but we can appreciate in them a great attempt to succeed and survive.

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Amid these days

Hard to go by it is, amid these days. Not as pretended divine consciousness, but as the simplest and most ordinary of human beings. I realize, amid these days, that humanity suffers, and I am too, part of the pain.

The human misery, ephemeral and unimportant to the universal grandeur, is palpable and agonizing in this mundane world.

And though it seems that while most grieve, some feel distinctively liberated; but for the sake of humankind! we cannot exclude ourselves. Or could it be possible to pull a leaf out of a tree without it being withered? The tree is one, from the hidden roots to the sweetest fruit.

Our humanity, amid these days, survives, it does not live. It barely endures the hardships of living; it seems we forgot what it is to be vigorously alive.

As I turn to see my fellow men, entangled in the haste of everyday life, embroiled with the concern of not having enough, exhausted both physically and mentally while trying to fulfill the demands of life (that are not of Life), limited (despite so many advances) by the basic stimuli of fear, of reward, of social pressure, of appearances; I ask myself, is that the life that humanity deserves or wishes to have?

So, who dares to live as a self-proclaimed enlightened being, amid these days?! Who has the audacity to speak about love while

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Amid these days

overlooking the responsibility of that expression? How dare we call ourselves “human beings” if as long as I am restful, I refuse to share my love with the beggar, with the lonesome one, with those hoping to find it?

Amid these days, hard to go by, the so-called life of our humanity is brimming with avarice, overflowing with looks filled with faith but empty of Life, full of us who don’t want to realize that we will never have enough of that which we don’t need to rejoice our existence.

Where are the great teachers of Life, amid these days? Those who share and have nothing to say, those who shine and have nothing to teach.

Yet, not all is bad! These days will also pass. The sage has seen it, and in the meantime, he sweetens Life without forgetting, the rest of humankind.

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The circus of “spirituality”

The writer considers himself a fortunate young man. He has had the opportunity to lose himself blindly in different creeds, doctrines, ideologies, religions, and spiritual systems that have always promised an intimate encounter with the “divine” at the end of a long path of discipline, devotion, and austerity: a glorious encounter that we’ll be able to fully savor (supposedly) after our physical body has passed away - it seems that the hope to delight in that numinous experience at the end of this mundane road is what gives purpose to many people’s lives, sadly. The writer has also been a slave of the need to transcend spiritually and a person completely devoted to the fascination of dodging the “I”, its problems, and its responsibilities as a member of this planet while in the (more often than not) deceiving silence of the “sacred” precincts.

He has been overpowered by his lack of humility and the desire to exult in the realization of the supreme or divine being that “spiritual” leaders and a vast amount of texts like to sell and promote; thus, inviting us in most cases (due to our inability to appreciate the all-pervading universal essence in all expressions of this creation), to a life of perpetual illusion.

It does not take time, practice, seeking, nor a rigorous ascesis to be part of the marvelous movement of Life! The grace (which cannot be written, taught, or imagined) of this universe can be touched, felt, savored, and experienced all of the time, at any moment, effortlessly: it is an always available gift of Life to its

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The circus of “spirituality”

manifestation. Moreover, this gift represents the most unifying message of all (that the “spiritual” circus usually distracts us from): dance with the selfless cadence of nature, flow with the kind rhythm of existence, give yourself to Life as Life gives it all to you; be reciprocal with the natural integrity.

Observing the other day in a garden the naturalness with which a tree, taking pleasure from the gifts of Life, shared with such candor, without any selfish effort and careless of recognition the oxygen that gives us Life, the writer wondered if the so-called “spiritual” masters of today were like the trees. He also realized, amid the friendliness of the garden, the necessity of humankind to be less “spiritual” and to be more like plants on a garden.

He began to question whether the religious leaders or gurus are truly interested in sharing oxygen as does the tree for the betterment of the entire world, or if they are only attentive to their followers; which would mean selfishness, perversity, delusion, and complete absence from the art of living. He also wondered if they were honestly attempting, through their rhetorical message, but most importantly, through their acts, to eradicate the immense amount of divisions and limitations that prevent humankind from discovering our inclusive essence that allows us to share unlimitedly, not only among humans, but with the whole expression of our planet. Or whether they are (consciously or unconsciously) striving to keep their traditions alive, to preserve their theological doctrine, to impose their beliefs and philosophy of life, and to be staunch defenders of their known truths.

The writer can see that our beliefs and our ideals, in most cases, only enslave us to a delusional life in which our intentions may seem kind and transcendental, but instead, are filled with hollow and burdensome points of view that only pervert the innocence and freshness of our minds/hearts that would otherwise be in tune with the grace of Life.

Unfortunately, for many of us this is not the case; hence the need to believe, consequently, the necessity of the circus of

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“spirituality”. And the writer dares to say this not because of what he has read on a book or because of what he has heard from a guru, but because his inability to observe the beauty and the harmony of Life around him, the self-destructive desire to consider him-self spiritually “special”, his stupid need to overcome the ego, and the anxiety caused by finding very little meaning in his life, pushed him to seek obsessively and to have a seat in the front row of the delusive circus.

Life, even though it didn’t need to, gave him the opportunity to live in a monastery, to visit countless temples of various creeds and religions, to meet hundreds of monks and to listen to their messages, to live in Muslim countries and learn to pray to Allah with devotion and respect, to live in Jewish communities, to meditate in the Himalayas, to dance in the middle of the jungle with the Maasai people, to participate in Hindu ceremonies in India, to take intensive yoga courses in different countries, to dance affectionately with his brothers and sisters of the Krishna consciousness, to learn to “communicate” with nature next to indigenous tribes in many places of the world, and to be a faithful Christian for many years. And despite the exciting and many times frustrating search, he didn’t need any of that to appreciate the beauty of creation: the tree was always there, in that garden, sharing its oxygen as always; his mind just didn’t have time to observe, it was too busy looking for answers.

Nevertheless, the writer would like to mention that he is no one to reject nor discredit any deity or belief that is respected in the different creeds and/or religions around the world, on the contrary, he surrenders to all the universal mysteries that are beyond his capacity of comprehension. However, he wouldn’t waste any more time trying to understand anything “beyond”, because once again, he would start the vicious cycle of the search without knowing what it is exactly that he is looking for; but not only that, this type of pursuit also obfuscates the essence that allows us all to flow with the subtleties of Life, naturally.

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The circus of “spirituality”

If the writer was to accept any given belief, or if he was to reject it, he would be in both cases, falling into a pernicious trap.

If he accepts something as the absolute truth, his mind becomes dense and full of information and interpretations, thus, he would be trapped in a mind attached to its beliefs: a stupidly inflexible mind. When we have already defined Life and its beauty, we do not care to discover, to observe, to learn, to taste; everything becomes a pattern, a path, a routine, a definition, instead of a marvelous, indecipherable and spontaneous gift from Life. On the other hand, rejecting all information may seem liberating, but it is quite the opposite. When we deny, not only are we reacting, but even worse, our minds lose their innocence, their ingenuity, and most importantly, the quality of a free mind that discovers without accepting, rejecting, comparing, analyzing, or attaching to anything; a mind that just sees the movement without trying to manipulate it.

The art of living cannot be chosen, you cannot believe in it nor can it be denied. It is an inclusive expression that we can all participate in by making our own personal expression, an art. And how do we know if our life is an art? When we are in tune with the natural flow of creation, when you can go into a garden and see that you are not only taking oxygen from a tree, but you are also sharing yours, when your fragrance is available to all, as the fragrance of the rose, and when your life’s message is greater and more beautiful than any dogma or belief.

The writer invites us to see how our spiritual concepts contribute nothing to the beauty of creation: they don’t embellish the natural phenomena, they don’t share more clean oxygen, they don’t benefit and include all living forms, and they definitely don’t make us freer. Unfortunately, our minds, more often than not, find it more interesting to sit next to an “enlightened” being than next to a tree. When not having the humility of making our lives an art, we hope that the riddles of spirituality will show us something

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beyond the tedium of our existence. This, of course, gives more “meaning” to our reality, or at least it entertains and distracts us more, as does a circus.

The spiritual spectacle that one becomes a part of while in the hunt for the “divine”, usually comes with an unyielding script: chanting, long hours of “silence”, ridiculous austerities, rules and precepts that engender interior conflict and that mold you to new routines (purportedly of higher meaning) that bring absolutely no freedom but much dependency; hence, instead of spreading your wings, you are caged in the bars of belief and tradition. Notwithstanding the despondency of the matter, there is something even more absurd about participating in the “spiritual” circus: the exotic garments you must wear to show the sublime path that you have now chosen to take, the new status of your-self, and the organized group to which you now belong, in other words, costumes and colors that emphasize that you are different from the rest, from the lost ones, from the mundane.

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The circus of “spirituality”

The writer really does wonder if the spiritual representatives and/or gurus of today do not realize that their truths have not yet invited humans to participate harmoniously with this creation nor have they united us (all of humanity) in any way. The writer also asks himself if they cannot see that people’s gestures of admiration towards them are born out of fear, out of despondency, out of superstition, out of tradition, and out of their incapacity to cherish the candor of the naturality of Life; thus, they must do it before the shadow of the so-called “enlightened”—that seem to take much pleasure in that. The writer wonders if they do not realize that their holy attires do not represent the wholeness of Life, not even all of humankind, but merely their entourage and their rooted dogmas. Life can only be represented by its own expression, not by the dexterity of the “spiritual” minds.

Yet, they stubbornly try to describe the grandeur of this universe through their plausible capacities as orators that allow them to recite mesmerizing verbal structures that yes, it’s true, are able to enthrall our minds and our senses, but contain naught of the vital energy that unites us all. Could it be that many of them did not have a tree too look at in their garden?

The writer would like you, just for a moment, to imagine that your spiritual authority suddenly tells you that the holy books, the truths, the word, the promises, the sacred institutions, and the path to salvation or enlightenment has been nothing but a farce, a scam; that all of that will be destroyed and you will now be on your own. What would happen to you? How would you then face Life when all the interpretations that gave meaning to your existence were suddenly taken away? Would you have the courage and the humility to discover Life anew? That would definitely be the bestcase scenario, but it is also doubtful if one never had the courage to observe and question the “spiritual” circus: the priest, the yogi, the rabbi, the monk, the rituals, the austerities, the methods, the texts, the predestined path you were supposed to take, etc.

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However, if you were caring enough about the ecology that sustains your living, the moment you were pulled away from your “spiritual” scheme, maybe you would care to discover your relationship with Life; not through ideals, beliefs, concepts, and/ or traditions, but through your moment-to-moment interaction with this creation, and that, requires no knowledge. It is an everfresh uncovering, always new, always spontaneous, it is an inclusive choreography, it is the art of living.

So dear reader and fellow being, it is likely that the more “spiritual” you consider your-self, the more fragmented is your existence, and the more absent you are from the art of living by being an spectator of the infamous circus of “spirituality”. And do you want to know why? Because truth (in this sense) communicates in a completely different manner: it has no teachings, no rules, no rigidity, no history; it has no representatives, no holy precincts (all creation it’s is abode), no goals, no distinctions, no path.

If you really want to assimilate and at the same time express the truth of Life, befriend a tree, learn from its quietude, from its language, from its kindness, from its benignity, from its inclusiveness, from its love. After, if you dare, exhume the essence which has always been both in you and the tree: the suchness of all that exists.

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Stop believing in god.

Become Him/Her/It/That God, adonai, yahweh, allah, krishna, shiva, pure-consciousness, just to name a few, are names that mankind utter so ingeniously trying to express and enclose the unfathomable, ungraspable, impenetrable, timeless and infinite expression that we are all part of, and that we insist on corrupting through words. No matter how creative our language, it means absolutely nothing in this sense: uttering the word water a thousand times will never quench our thirst.

However, it is needless to say that everyone is free to use any of these words millions of times during their lives if they wish to; to be respectful to an idea, as a sugar pill for suffering and uncertainty, to be more hopeful, to get distracted from the sometimes-challenging mystery of this beautiful creation, and for many other important reasons, but please, for the sake of Life, we must realize that acknowledging or respecting any “sacred” term does not make us more harmonious beings. The universal harmony of which we are all part of benefits very little from what our spiritual language means to us, it would be a lot more significant for the world in which we all live if we would strive to become that love or that respect that we proclaim to have towards our beloved deities.

Otherwise, the truth is that we are only attempting to give a little more meaning to an egotistical existence and trying to soften our harsh realities through a purported devotion that we utilize at our convenience.

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The word god represents everything that the “I” structure prevents us from exemplifying, that is the reason why we feel it so distant and sacred. Compassion, goodness, unconditional love, equanimity, solidarity, empathy, humility, inclusiveness, etc. Why have we not had the courage to become Him/Her/It/That?

And the writer really does hope that the reader does not feel discouraged or aggravated by this small observation, because it is undeniable that we are all part of something magnificently divine (though not that fictitious god our thoughts like to ideate), it is indisputable that our essence is dancing to the most beautiful and unifying melody of all, and of course, we all emanate from the same fountain of Life! But please, let it stop being just a futile belief, manifest it!

If you are convinced of the existence of a supreme being that you so fervently adore, then your-self must be a representation of that alleged divinity, not through complacent prayers, empty rituals full of symbolisms, comfortable ideas or self-suggested states of mind, but through your relationship with the whole expression of Life.

But if you are not able to become Him/Her/It/That, it means that the word god has become a pastime to sweeten your weaknesses and to give relevance to a life that you would otherwise find woeful and without much meaning.

While many are hoping for piety, grace, and an eternal existence next to god, Life invites us to delight in her palpable divinity and to rejoice in the harmony of creation, in the here-andnow.

Our humanity and thus our world would be experiencing a completely different reality if everyone would realize that our personal beliefs contribute to nothing meaningful! Unlike the message of our actual living.

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The other job: that of Life

That morning, while on his way to greet his dearest of friends Tao Qian at the world’s hidden utopia, the peach blossom spring, he heard an unfamiliar yet intimate noise that suddenly deviated his, until then, auspicious promenade: it was the laughter of Life…

Dear Mother, of so much hilarity what is the cause?

A species in your world, they squander their existence gaining much, losing all!

By the movement of creation, it seems, they’re not enthralled.

Their neglection is to Me (Life), a mystery unsolved.

We (all of creation), who live in You echo Your example: the bees, the birds, the skies… who would dare Your colors trample?

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Wise indeed you are!

Yet their harm from you is not afar.

They are a destructive roar and at this rate, the harmony of your planet will soon be torn apart. * * * The roots of the trees, which are the same as those of creation, make their way through the soil, giving all, a majestic donation: flowers.

The flowers, desirous to shine and sing, allure the bees with their pollen for more colors to appear at the peach blossom spring.

The clouds, pleased and always wishful of that cheerful display, release their waters so that new roots make their way, flowers and bees can continue to play, and thus, the world’s utopia doesn’t go away.

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The other job: that of Life

The sun, after seeing it all, absorbs the water from the roots, purposely! He wouldn’t in a thousand years want to discontinue creation’s choreography.

But they! of that gentle cohesion are not in favor. They strive for morality, order, growth, and love, disregarding Life’s original labor.

They pull out the roots, from the bees snatch the honey, and still, oh how lucky they are! they get to taste the sweetest of fruits.

Apparently (but only in their eyes), Life’s cohesion is for their exclusive use.

If only one day they could be taken to the peach blossom spring! Not yet. * * * Dear Mother, I clearly see what you have spoken: their roar seems to prevail over the rhythm you have chosen, there are no longer hints of the peach blossom spring.

Continue walking this shall end soon.

But they want to always be part of You!

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For what?!

To destroy and hoard like fools?

He who works for himself refusing to do so for Me (Life), is as foolish as he who seeks salvation, while living in eternity.

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The untold education (satirical verses on humankind)

We come into this world impregnated by the suchness and natural way of things. Then, we are shown to yearn for importance, taught to hope for respectability: we strive for worthiness. At first, we were void, free and indescribable, now we struggle to be liberated.

*** We are born incomplete, lagging, lacking; ignorant. Aren’t we?

Since I can remember I carry with the imposed obligation to reconcile with life: my being came originally blemished.

I never had much time to savor the creation that I was part of, the long path of success was a matter of supreme importance; one moment lost, was a moment of inferiority in the creation… of men.

Merging with the natural current of life, no! I had a predestined route that was very demanding and needed to be followed: expectations, learning, growing… discovering was obsolete in my society.

Kind interaction with the pristine expression of this world never seemed like a priority, what I could accomplish was always more valued than how I could participate with the universe that gives us all that there is to give.

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* In the beginning, there was a generous sprout of nature; a blooming flower of creation: me. Now, I am mostly conscious of the way of the “I”, but that should be completely understandable! there is not much here of great importance anyway, what is going to save me from this mundane confinement is not of this world nor of this life, it is beyond the sceneries of this planet, beyond the flow of these trivial natural currents.

It was in the voice of everyone: “You need to practice loving god who is high in the heavens above.” You see! above.

Fortunately, in due time it became clear to me that the divine message of salvation was in the books, in the temples, in the forgiveness of the priest, in the shrines, in a mystical experience, and never in my insubstantial relationship with the superficial expression of life.

So, I am now able to distinguish between human’s truth of divine significance and the transitory and banal manifestations of this planet. And ever since, they consider me a good candidate for the eternal paradise! * When I behaved well (that meant obeying the rules), my parents used to take me to the cool attractions of the circus and the zoo.

How exciting it was to see exotic animals at my entertainment’s disposal! dancing penguins, dressed up elephants, tamed lions, comical monkeys; dominant circus tamers. Amid those amusing and unforgettable moments I quickly learned that we, humans, are a priority in the natural order of things.

The implicit force of the diversion context of my society explicitly revealed to me that the inferior expressions of life (animals

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on this occasion) were here for us to do as we pleased with their unimportant existence. Ever since, I am well aware that us humans are free to enforce our interests for only we have special rights and privileges: the right of freedom, the right to disagree, the right to choose, the right to play with nature (when we find it convenient, of course), the right to be heard, and the right of an almighty god.

Our creator was always very clear! human’s existence is worth much more than that of the other, little, beings of this world: we have been privileged with an eternal soul. And I do take advantage of the benefits of being a human! Who wouldn’t?! not every species gets a license to profit from all the endowments of a whole planet. * Let us pray for a better world, of more respectable citizens.

As any other normal suitable kid for our developed society, I was sent to school: a standardized possibility where dreams are molded, creativity is conceptualized, and our innate expression and understanding of life are circumscribed to a very effective meritorious scale.

I must say that much of the tremendous success in my life today is thanks to our schools: they strenuously prepared me for an indomitable environment of competition where one must stand out, if one wishes to be somebody. They prompted me to be goaldriven in life so I did not live uselessly.

Fortunately, schools also emphasize, through simulating the ferocious model of competitivity of the real world, the necessity of being first, of not being one more of the bunch: a loser, an underachiever. That is probably why most of our education focuses

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on fostering the capacities of our superb minds while relegating the possibilities of the other side of humans, which I guess we can call, the heart, or the futile side of humankind. But I completely understand! because in the real world, how far can it get you?

Hence, since the onset of my life I had to be on the top, I had to be considered, I had to be acknowledged; luckily, I always was.

It must be horrible to be one of those stupid kids who can’t learn well, for how can you be someone in life without the recognition of a degree? How could you befriend a meadow without the botanical knowledge? How can you love without having read Aristotle? What would your life be worth if you have nothing to back you up? And most importantly, how can you be a respectable citizen without a name, without a legacy? * Be careful! If you don’t chase success, the idealist abstraction of love will chase you, that is a very dangerous plight.

Love is incapable of ensuring your future, of feeding your family, of providing a comfy place to sleep; love will not keep you warm during the cold seasons, it will not find you competent friends, nor give you a better life.

Love is a matter of secondary importance; an illusory relief for the outliers, a pastime for the philosophers, a narcotic for the dreamers, and a sugar pill for those who can’t meet the world’s expectations: those who fail. * “You are meant to be happy, to be successful.” Thus, I focused on what the world could offer to my path of prosperity. Life is here for me! not the other way around; fulfillment has never been about reciprocity anyway.

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Because of Her, “I” am a gift

Everything you love comes from Her, all which is loving you is of Her; the breath which is keeping you alive is Her. She sustains you: your existence, your tomorrows. Without Her there is no you, without the Essence which is in you, there is no Her.

*** Such welcoming simplicity Life has shared with “me”, that to be less indebted, “I” wrapped myself in Her: a gift. Being grateful was not enough! Hence, “I” became That which she has given us.

Absorbed by the beauty of a… “I” think it was a man-made garden, “I” understood we needed nothing more. But how come “I” was oblivious of that generous interplay of love?

In any case, amidst Life’s play (the garden on this occasion), “my” originality felt consummated and it spoke to Her, impersonally: “Here! take what we have created.” How else could “I” have participated?

Ever since, She oversees my fate. “I” no longer worry about the way nor about solving the complicated riddle of why am “I” here today.

“I” used to run away from doomsday: misleading affray. Now, “my” originality celebrates the “I”, the fleeting sun, this little planet… in short, the whole play.

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Words for a Sufi friend (the universal man)

Beloved Abu Sa’id, you expressed it docilely in your spinning blow: As long as the ego guides you, you will have important places to go.

Your existence cared not if you ate or you fasted, if you prayed or if you were mundanely distracted, if you felt elated or if your heart was exhausted, regardless, through the music of your poems continually it chanted: My ego seeks perpetual pleasure, while my existence is a boundless treasure. Yes! I am only a man, but my essence cannot be measured.

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Words for a Sufi friend

I learned to admire Sufism through the exquisiteness of your simple reflection: Sufis are a like a mill: in their twirl, they undo the knot of the ego’s perversion; it then becomes so delicate that even the air fails to perceive its ensuing dispersion.

As I watched you, I realized that the universal man is the most noble of all; you needed not a respectable appearance or fine garments for your life to be, for all of us, a refreshing waterfall.

Alas! As most of the mystics you were not free from men’s logical scrutiny. The culpability of your poetry lies in having exposed in the “love” they had for god, the greatest hypocrisy: He who doesn’t welcome the Totality in the mysteries of creation as in the simplicity, in silence as in the mind’s cacophony, in the defiant solitude as in treacherous company, only reflects in his “love” for Allah, subjective idolatry.

You abandoned all spiritual doctrines and their empty guarantees: Don’t bother me with riddles, I have no answers! Life takes care of me.

As many of the mystics who expressed their universality, you were unjustifiably persecuted. Impatient was the orthodoxy! so that in the gallows you could be executed. Yet, despite the harrowing circumstances, your life, your words, your lesson, lovingly concluded: At last, of this infamous disguise, my universality will be denuded.

This could be not a parting remark, beloved Abu Sa’id. Albeit your body is gone, your universality has nowhere else to be. It is still your song I hear: The treasure of the universal man is everything he can give, and to hold dearly, everything the ego is not able to keep.

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Deepest dream (inspired by a Jewish tale)

In his early days, Abu Sa’id, while burgeoning spiritually in the midst of the dawning of Sufism, went seeking advice from a wellknown rabbi: uncommon get-together.

“Sayidi, my inner peace is being perturbed and haunted by the fear of dying.”

“Dismiss your-self every night and abandon that self in the resting hours as if it were never to wake up again; let it die in your sleep”, advised the rabbi.

After some days, Abu Sa’id went back to see the rabbi who upon seeing him immediately inquired if he had done as advised. Abu Sa’id nodded.

“So, what has happened? For how many hours were you able to die to the self?”

“I really cannot say. But every night seems to be a fleeting, selfeffacing moment.”

“Exactly!”, smirked the rabbi. “As you have observed, when in deep-sleep that awareness of the self is no longer there: of fear, of time, of death, of what you are or what you are not. Maybe that is the natural state of your existence.”

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*** Alluding to the one who seeks the light with a lit match, or s/he who seeks eternal existence, through the existence, that always is.

Free I was!

Not long ago in the caresses of the early morning that prevent through merged eyelashes the illusion and the glow.

I dreamed… I died.

Strenuous effort: worth naught.

Curious in the day to find that! which the self could not.

Then only the night could say.

At last, while closing the doors to the house of mirrors, ceased the reflection and the flash; remaining from the beating heart the pristine universal thrash.

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The singing of the heart

Fortunate thee, the poor: to lose you have nothing of.

Fortunate indeed!

Thee who does not know.

Thus, by not knowing, knowledge is desired not.

Liberty and joy! expels thee: from accumulating thy heart is free.

And by being empty, disregard from losing in thy walk we see.

Mesmerizing is the song of the heart that by melting in the present tore its memories apart.

Mingled always in the now! the future is for it, a theory afar.

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The singing of the heart

The heart which pilgrims the universal essence, spawns an echo of infinite presence.

And through such vibration the mind at last goes, regaining the heart, its inclusive senses.

It is the singing of the heart, the archetype of unity.

It’s sonority lacks convenience hence, its song: a gift to multiplicity.

Exquisite is, beyond question the hymn of thy noble beating.

No answer can grasp such beautiful expression!

Thy life, thy song, thy creation: a brush-stroke of harmony; melody free of comprehension.

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The singing hearts all greet in the same oasis.

Their chant, in unison, is for us, the others a heavenly catharsis.

Alas! their chanting cannot be heard by the mind Our existence is, nonetheless, that song that our eyes seeking eternally, could never find.

Rejoice, rejoice!

The singing of the heart!

Once in the melody thy-self can be but one with life: art.

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Of a hummingbird that only wished to fly

Hard to believe indeed!

Albeit immersed in the quietude of a monastery, the monk still caressed the rays of dawn with eyes of greed.

But be at peace!

Mention your name I will not, my rhetoric wishes to be harmless: a soothing breeze.

Though terrifying it was the content of your spiritual caprice: “The world is soon to end, but considering you honor my deliverance reincarnation can cease.”

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Yes! We all had to listen while prostrated on our knees.

“How else can you give your troubled mind some peace?”

Was also part of his divine speech.

And there I was, baffled between his omens and the shadow of his beliefs.

Impossible it is to obliterate from my mind the nights of my monastic stay: the shala filled with monks, nuns, statues of the buddha and a bird trying to find its way.

Each day, suspense led the impatient wait to hear the voice of the self-proclaimed enlightened man.

There he was at last! sharing heavenly truth: a divine message of dismay.

And while he darkened our hearts with his knowledge of doomsday, Life outside the shala seemed to show the simplest, kindest and most harmonious display.

It’s not a story what I say!

Creation was my witness, and She, She I could not betray.

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Of a hummingbird that only wished to fly

But in due time (as it is supposed to be?) the rays of dawn lured my entire being discretely inviting me to observe, purposelessly: we were just an idea waking up from the delusion of being asleep!

Clearly, in that moment I could see.

But the master insisted: “If you don’t practice, to the cycle of samsara you will be condemned, endlessly.”

It all seemed like a déjà vu, of my once Christian faith and the affiliation I had with its religious congregation.

As did the enlightened monk, the man in white used to say without warning: “You were born with a terrible sin, but forgiven you can be if god’s grace your heart is yearning!”

Yet, the man in white I cannot blame for he had to follow the religious scripts.

“In this world, only god can allay your guilt.”

Said he to the people while honoring the prophets’ lips.

Every path was discouraging!

But it didn’t really matter then: to the prophecies and tradition, all teachers seemed to have me condemned.

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At last, I decided to go into a quiet garden hoping to forget about the spiritual bargain.

I noticed a hummingbird passed! tunefully provoking so I asked: “Of doomsday to you no one has spoken?”

Abundance of colors, joyous life, friendly fragrances: the garden whispered.

“Don’t you know, Mother Earth, that the worse is about to occur?”

But nothing seemed to listen, much less the freedom of the hummingbird.

Alas! Despite that welcoming beauty my human world was still collapsing.

Yet somehow the garden seemed unaware, for everything in it was cheerfully dancing to the symphony of the bees who never stopped pollinating: mutual arising.

“Garden! from where do you exhume the kindest hues, a radiant existence, so much compassion?

The good men of this earth exemplified but severity, distrust, and a narrow path of actions.”

I never got an answer.

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Of a hummingbird that only wished to fly

“Let me be part of this numinous land!

I vow to your harmony, your kindness, and of your fragrance and colors I will be the most loyal paladin.”

Since that day every dawn is a feast!

Let their world be mired in doubt or come to an end; I could care less for now I am, a hummingbird.

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Of my conversations with Zhuang Zhou

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The world of forms

“In this world of forms, which form is eternal? I will surrender at its feet.”

“None.”

“And where do all forms come from?”

“From the no-thing, out of the no-form.”

“That means I should devote my life to nothing?”

“No, it means you should dedicate your life to everything, to all the forms.”

“Why?” “Everything comes out of the no-form, which means that the substantial essence of the whole universe is in all the forms. You, the cloud, a tree, what is the difference? Your form?! Ha-ha.”

“And where are the substantial teachers of life? I want to learn from them, my mind seems blinded by the world of forms.”

“You won’t be able to find them.”

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“Why?” “That which interests you, they cannot teach.”

“But I am only looking for truth.”

“Exactly! The teachers of life are oblivious of truth. Ironically, they have nothing to teach, hence, by knowing no-thing, they flow with all things. On the other hand, the teachers you are looking for have important messages to convey; lost in the duality of the spiritual and the mundane, they find security in deceptive forms.”

“Dear Zhuang Zhou, please let me know, where is there a teacher of life?”

“I don’t know, but if you look for one, you will find naught.

When searching you will only find he who has taken pride in his experiences and understanding. The humble teachers of life have seen that pride is the most dangerous form of them all; for them, experience is born and dies at the same time.

“Personally, I only know one teacher of life and it is reflected in all forms: in the plants, the fishes, the mountains, the sounds, in the void and the infinite.”

“What then should I believe?”

“You can believe whatever you want! If you believe this or if you consider that, the universal essence remains unaffected. A belief is an imaginary form that springs out of another form, the mind.

What importance could it really have?

“However, if you cling too much to your beliefs, you will be as futile as he who clings to life. Also, be careful of words, they are a very

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treacherous form; the further you delve into them, the further you are from the essence of creation. Only fear and confusion seek freedom through words; listen exclusively to those who have nothing to say.

“I once met a man who wanted to escape from his shadow and his footprints: he was overwhelmed by the feeling of being persecuted by those two intruders every time he looked back. The man started walking faster, but they were both still there. He then ran at full speed hoping that sooner or later his shadow and his footprints would become weary, but he was the first to collapse and die.

“The same thing happens to those who seek to be liberated from the world of forms by means of words, the more mantras or sacred words they can pronounce, the more they are rigidified with forms; until they finally collapse with all their imaginary ideas. The best is to be clothed by the natural and wordless shade of creation, only then can shadows, footprints and words cease to exist.”

“What about the enlightened teachers?”

“Forms confuse the mind; the enlightened ones are the most confused.”

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The delusive pursuit of knowing what you are “Ever since I am surrounded by the natural breeze of The Forest Monastery I am getting to know myself much better.”

“Is that so? Please tell me, who is getting to know who? Who is the ‘I’ and who is the ‘self’? Could it be that you are ideating an illusory fragmentation?”

“I… Perhaps that’s the case. Nonetheless, the enlightened teachers and the main spiritual books always emphasize the importance of selfknowledge.”

“Gee! Always the mighty teachers and books.”

“Is it then not important to know oneself?”

“Your existence, your natural state, or that which you are regardless of any mystical realization, cannot be found by exercising the mind; that will never happen. Nothing you do or understand will ever make you more complete. Your essence did not appear at birth; hence death cannot end it; yet everything ‘you’ know will eventually vanish.

“If only your ‘I’ would invest as much energy on observing its relationship with life, how it interacts with the colors of creation and how it participates in the art of living, the delusive pursuit

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of knowing what you are would end. The need to observe a dead bundle of thoughts, the ‘I’, would also stop and thus there would be room for the ever-fresh discovery of life.”

“Are you telling me that instead of looking inside I should look outside of me?”

“You insist on fragmenting existence! What is ‘inside’ and what is ‘outside’? In the Absolute, there are no divisions: creation is, life is, existence is. Whatever you may know, it does not matter in what direction you look, will only be part of a transient bubble you call ‘my life’, not of the whole.”

“Is knowledge useless in this sense?”

“Does light need to know is light to shine? You already are everything you will ever be! Why seek information that makes the mind rigid?

That only drives you away from the vital quality of the universe: mysterious spontaneity.

“If you say you are this or that, you are placing yourself inside an inflexible definition; thus, your relationship with life will be conditioned by that same static interpretation. How could the vastness of life be grasped by the limitations of the insignificant ‘I’? No effort from the mind can attain what your essence has always had.”

“I will try…”

“No! Try nothing. Die already! Die to everything you know about your “self” so that you can, effortlessly, flow with the movement of Life: the art of living.”

Zhuang Zhou got up and left. I stayed there sitting, with my ‘self’.

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On salvation

“Zhuang Zhou, I wish to be liberated! Freed from the temporality and the mundane appetites of the body.”

“I once had a friend, I called him old master. He used to say something like: ‘The essence of a person is… clear as heaven, common as dirt.’

But for you! this body, this creation, this scenery… it all seems too ordinary; you have the necessity to go ‘beyond’ this mundanity, Haha!

“I will tell you something: it is the other way around. Your body shouldn’t have to carry with your self-destructive yearnings, with your fears, with your insensitivity, with your awaiting paradises.

Your body, every single cell in it, it’s a numinous expression that floats freely in the great ocean of inexhaustible possibilities (the unknown). You, on the other hand, seem to sink in a chimeric drop of knowledge.”

“And still, despite the possible veracity of your words I feel many times imprisoned in this mortality. I want to be liberated, ‘floating’, as you say, freely in eternity; rejoicing in my preternatural essence.”

“You just won’t stop raving! The ‘eternity’ you speak of is nothing but a philosophical ideal, an illusory escape. In eternity, all is unborn and nothing ever dies.

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On salvation

“The wayless way of eternity is simple, natural, always available, ever-present, unchanging; regardless of the form. However, your relationship with the eternal is distorted by philosophical ideals and superstitious yearnings. Your ‘preternatural’ considerations make heavy what should be light, serious what should be joyful, darken what is very clear, and spawn riddles for what can’t be answered.

“Your body, as the sun and the trees, as the oceans and the galaxies, is of the same wayless way. But your mind’s fear is quite astute! Seeing itself incapable of measuring the immeasurable, of experiencing eternity, and of tasting the essence that permeates all, it has awarded itself a privilege that makes it exclusively worthy of ‘liberation’. Why would you have more importance than a handful of dirt in the natural order of the universe?”

“But I am conscious of my existence! There must be a significant reason since the other forms are unaware of theirs.”

“And why not? The other forms you speak of are manifestations of the same wayless way; you are in essence, those other forms.

Doesn’t that imply that everything is of the same consciousness?

“But the truth is that you want to be eternally aware of your-self.

The idea of being without the self that has structured your identity is terrifying, thus you strive strenuously (superstitiously, religiously, spiritually) not to vanish. In the same way, your desperation is momentarily eased by belittling the body as if it were an impediment in your ‘eternal’ rest. How ironic, your body is already flowing in the eternal wayless way that you anxiously yearn for.”

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“Thank you for your words Zhuang Zhou, though I still feel imprisoned.”

“Learn from your body instead of wanting to get rid of it! Emulate its harmony, exemplify its cadence; carry out your natural function as does every cell in it. Depurate as does your blood, sing selflessly as does your heart; as soon as you let go of your ‘personal way’ to salvation, you will see no difference between your body and the body of life, between your body and eternity.”

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Lost in Tao Dies the rose, germinates the seed under the shade of the tree that breathes nothing is lost.

- Montebong

“If nothing is lost, I ask: when did the beauty of the rose die? My eyes don’t see it anymore.”

“When your mind took over and concealed the rose’s essence with fruitless interpretations. The cycle of creation never ceases to exist; therefore all its beauty never ceases to be. Tao is an inexhaustible flutter of manifestations, brushstrokes, and universal gestures.

Your natural state is also part of that cohesion; thus, it does not die.”

“But this body, my body! It became alive some years ago; I am conscious of it, I am aware of my individuality, and because it was once born, it should too die.”

“Exactly, you are aware of ‘your’ own individuality, not of the natural state. You cannot be aware of Tao, and ironically, you can never cease to be, It. “And please, do not be so proud of your distinctiveness, the fragment of which you are conscious of, not only terrifies you, but it also makes you feel empty. That is the reason why your mind, seeing itself isolated and unprotected, seeks contemplative experiences that bring it closer to the natural essence; which in fact cannot be absent, since it is the substantial pillar of the whole

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universe. There is nothing more absurd than attempting to be closer to the dynamic essence of Tao through the suggestion of the mind.”

“Nevertheless, are there not two bodies standing here, two minds that are communicating with each other? You speak, I listen.”

“What you call ‘you’ and what you recognize as ‘I’, are only tiny drops of the same ocean which in their isolated existence have no relevance, thus they evaporate.

“In the end, what is that individuality worth? It lives hoping not to die and to be eternal. It worries only about its existence and it is indifferent to the creation that sustains it. What does it add to the generous choreography of Tao? Nothing!

“The mystical, spiritual, and religious experiences that the mind seeks to be able to be closer to its natural state, only depict the burdensome necessity of the individual to merge with the natural current of existence, and at the same time, the fear of dying; thus, internal conflict and contradiction.”

“So how can I experience Tao?” “There is nothing you can do, any attempt on your part can only be born out of fear and out of infructuous desire; you are already, in essence, Tao.” “And what is Tao?”

(Zhuang Zhou clapped his hands loudly)… “and infinitely more.”

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Looking for the right teacher

“Which teacher of life holds the truth?”

Zhuang Zhou slowly lifted his eyes towards a luminous star, then, after a couple of seconds he answered: “each one of the rays of that majestic star shines, and every one of them brings light to the dark; and just as it happens with the teachers of life, all the rays of light come from the same source: the sun.

“Yet, be aware! Don’t mistake the light of a sunbeam for that of a lighted candle.”

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The key to Life

“Beloved Zhuang Zhou, despite my intention and will, I am still lost!

Could you please, at last, tell me what is the key to living?”

“Living requires a key, a solution? How ridiculous you are! The Living quality of the universe, which is everywhere, and which sprouts every-thing, would never make such preposterous questions; apparently, only the ‘living’ fears of humans would.” “ Zhuang Zhou, please try to understand what I am trying to say… the key to happiness, to finding internal peace.”

“Ah! The key to your happy ‘life’; and how would I know? The stream of creation has always led me, I have never needed keys.

Living drags my fulfilled existence.”

“I am not referring only to ‘my’ life. I am wondering about the path, the mystery that brings us closer to the harmony of life, of the universe, of divinity.”

“Excuse my heedlessness, but I was not aware that life had stray from the harmony, of itself.”

“Of course not! Life is complete, absolute.”

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The key to Life

“And what are you? before your attributed human condition?”

“I don’t know… I just know that I am an expression of the universe; a brushstroke of life.”

“So why don’t you talk to the Artist? don’t ask me! I am, just as you are.”

“I have tried, but She refuses to answer.”

“All She does is to talk to you!

“Observe the life that is in you: your beating heart, your everchanging body. Go into a forest and discover the ecology of which you are a part of, and that ironically, your human endeavors have separated you from.

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“Enter a beautiful garden, and maybe there, amid the selfless interplay of in-dependent manifestations, you will find the key that you so ardently think you need.”

(Some 20 years later)

Zhuang Zhou, the key, is to stop looking for one.

Many years I dwelled in the peach blossom spring trying to see the harmony of life: I couldn’t! My mind, avid of a clarifying awareness eventually waned. When my only option was to be, to exist; when I was too tired to seek, is when suddenly I appreciated my interbeing co-existing in life.

In me, I saw the passing cloud, the falling water, and the raising tree; I was too a sprout of the peach blossom spring! The garden was no longer a product of my mind, it was neither a tool for me to see or to achieve, it was my being itself.

The key, is to let yourself be painted by the Artist, naturally, as She wishes.

When searching: isolated, self-centered way.

When living: nonchalant, inclusive path; child’s play.

Nature: neither good nor bad intention.

Living seeks nothing: a fulfilled manifestation.

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The key to Life

Changing tides fresh waters; earth’s remold.

Her song: mysterious unfold.

Farewell Zhuang Zhou! perhaps we’ll see each other no more. When hearing you speak about life, Her melody! I hear not.

Acknowledgements This written-composition is a product of the boundless generosity of Life to my human existence and of the unrelenting support from my family towards my many times quixotic and adventurous undertakings.

I would also like to acknowledge my dear friend Angkana Naragornpaijit without whom these words would not be in your hands today: during my most obscure moments and even before the first letter of this book was written down, she was already celebrating it and talking about how beautiful it was.

In like manner, I would to express my gratitude towards my once Yoga-philosophy teacher in India, Jagjeet Singh; not because of what I learned in his class, but because of the tremendous effect that his child-like presence and his always available heart, left in mine.