April 15, 2013
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The Tragic Life
There is tragedy in this life. It is tragic, most often. We are confronted with the reality of the suffering of cyclic existence. This does not mean the tenet of some eastern philosophy of reincarnation. We can, if needed, apply it to the single life of a being. All that it does, will do, will come to an end. All the great and powerful aspects of their doing will fall apart. The Truth of composite things are that they fall apart. Anything that is put together, be it your child or your work, will fall apart. This is an aspect of suffering, the suffering of change-also, in this life, there will be evident suffering, that which hurts and is easily identified-the death of a loved one, the brick on your toe, etc. The question, we all know, is not if this will happen but when. The end of our life is already written, perhaps not the how (even though we know pretty well via stats how it will go) but that it will end is inescapable. That we will, probably, be sick for a stretch, possibly a long stretch, I have read recently with the extension of our lifespan we are seeing the extension of illness. Despite this, and I know what is expected in this moment is a but this is...beautiful
(I remember a moment in India-where I did chora around a holy site, and on one side of the pathway was a cliff. The cliff fell off, at a gradual rate for a cliff, down to a river. Alpine pines marched down, a smattering of tall rhododendrons, some unnamed bushes, all hidden in shadows as I walked. The shadows were long though, for a night, and it was because the moon was full. It glimmered a diamond blue as I walked. I swore I would remember that moment. I had forgotten it till just a moment ago.)
But I will not. The trite of the beautiful is the external vision, the visage, which is arbitrarily beautiful. The desert sun rising is, to me, beautiful but to the dessicated man in the sand it is the beginning of torture, the watery expanse that I meditate in front of is calm and a place of focus for my safe body but to a victim of a sinking boat it is terrifying. I do not want this.
What goes for the inner beauty-their service, their 'love', their 'kindness' is often flawed. It is biased. It is focused on a child, a spouse, a parent. This is capitalism-a tit for tat-and that we don't practice this often is a testament to our rude existence rather than to our transcendent natures. That it is seen as such is because of even this low rarity of service. But let us not be swayed by this. This is not the beauty of love, the Christ on the cross is a beauty of service that was a model for Human behavior not a testament to the divine's ability.
Life is tragic and in this tragedy there must be found meaning. What goes for meaning, often, now, in this mass neurosis is of nihilism. We shrink ourselves into little boxes to make dependent meaning in relation to those arbitrary boundaries. This is not meaning. This is not beautiful. It is weak and shrunken, it is flaccid and impotent, it is despicable-that it is better than what goes for a norm has no words to describe it. Meaning demands universal, unbounded meaning that are translatable to functional, daily, practical acts. In the face of unmeaning we must, bravely, call out meaning-not some airy, weak argued position, but a strong, sound, powerful call that will lead us in this world of woe.
That life, human life included, has a dignity to it that even the bearer of it cannot take from it. A universal dignity that cannot be marred by anything or anyone. The understanding to do so is a reflection of the one bearing the weapon to do so. That this dignity is upheld by reason, logic, is a sad testament to the faithlessness of those who are told this. What this looks like in action toward this life is in the bearing of ignorance of the bearer, that, at its roots, every being can attain the highest and we cannot fathom which will do so. We are not allowed to bind this. This does not mean that all behavior is accepted, and that one must state this is a testament to how far we have come. But the reasonable access to this understanding should always be there.
Conceptual imputations, of even this cup here, must be done with humility. That understanding that we are removed from the truth as we impute. That is why it should be done at need, when necessary, not on a whim for it is dangerous. Why is it dangerous to say this is a cup? In this world of strife we impute not only a cup but emotions and feelings about the cup when another person has opposed views, strife begins. We fight over a definition that is false on both accounts and is only true in the functional sort of way. How dare we apply this definition, conception, upon a being? How much more dangerous to do so?
Let us be strong, let us serve, let us see our worst enemy as our greatest teacher, but even barring that Truth, lets us even serve those that have served us; our parents, our children, for, frankly, we have not even been able to do this low service.
Be well
G
