Friday, October 06, 2006
On May 29, I made the decision to burn my life. Watching with patience and excitement, what would grow in this clean space?
But, of course, the space wasn't "clean." Memory had made a home in me for too long, the files she carried were thick and many, and with each step moving forward into the present Memory would block the way, waving a folder and saying, "Remember this? And this?"
Sometimes, it was easy to take the papers from Memory's hand and quickly burn them. She didn't care, much; Memory could easily produce another. But others files were asbestos-coated. Fire only licked their surface, and they were, in any case, too toxic to be destroyed without care and time.
And so, I settled into the Snailpath Way. Last night, I heard a story that confirmed the age and unoriginality of this path, giving me even greater trust in its wisdom.
The subject is a Buddhist monk who lived in the eighth century, told to me and a group of others by one of his spiritual heirs.
This monk lived in one of India's largest monasteries, known for its great scholars. He, however, was considered by his peers as something of a simpleton. When asked what he did each day, he would reply: "I sleep. I eat. I eliminate."
Some monks suggested that he be booted out; others argued this was an improper way to behave towards a fellow monk, even if he appeared far less brilliant than they. So they agreed on this course: He would be given an opportunity to preach to the many visitors who came to the monastery. Then, the monks anticipated, this simple monk would realize he had nothing to say, and choose to leave.
When the day came, the simple monk began by apologizing to the large audience that they knew as much about the Buddha as he did, and then he began to speak. And speak. And the other monks began taking notes, and his words became a classic text, still in use today, on the art and science of meditation.
"I sleep. I eat. I eliminate."
Slowly, with care and time, the poisons are becoming ash.
Have a slow journey,
Candace
But, of course, the space wasn't "clean." Memory had made a home in me for too long, the files she carried were thick and many, and with each step moving forward into the present Memory would block the way, waving a folder and saying, "Remember this? And this?"
Sometimes, it was easy to take the papers from Memory's hand and quickly burn them. She didn't care, much; Memory could easily produce another. But others files were asbestos-coated. Fire only licked their surface, and they were, in any case, too toxic to be destroyed without care and time.
And so, I settled into the Snailpath Way. Last night, I heard a story that confirmed the age and unoriginality of this path, giving me even greater trust in its wisdom.
The subject is a Buddhist monk who lived in the eighth century, told to me and a group of others by one of his spiritual heirs.
This monk lived in one of India's largest monasteries, known for its great scholars. He, however, was considered by his peers as something of a simpleton. When asked what he did each day, he would reply: "I sleep. I eat. I eliminate."
Some monks suggested that he be booted out; others argued this was an improper way to behave towards a fellow monk, even if he appeared far less brilliant than they. So they agreed on this course: He would be given an opportunity to preach to the many visitors who came to the monastery. Then, the monks anticipated, this simple monk would realize he had nothing to say, and choose to leave.
When the day came, the simple monk began by apologizing to the large audience that they knew as much about the Buddha as he did, and then he began to speak. And speak. And the other monks began taking notes, and his words became a classic text, still in use today, on the art and science of meditation.
"I sleep. I eat. I eliminate."
Slowly, with care and time, the poisons are becoming ash.
Have a slow journey,
Candace
