Musings

We are travelers on a cosmic journey—stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. But the expressions of life are ephemeral, momentary, transient.

Gautama Buddha, the founder of Buddhism, once said,

This existence of ours is as transient as autumn clouds.
To watch the birth and death of beings is like looking at the movements of a dance.
A lifetime is like a flash of lightning in the sky,
Rushing by like a torrent down a steep mountain.

We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment, but it is transient. It is a little parenthesis in eternity. If we share with caring, lightheartedness, and love, we will create abundance and joy for each other. And then this moment will have been worthwhile.

Deepak Chopra

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In last week’s blog, we read that the poet, Kabir, found god in a ceramic vase. In this week’s newspapers, we read that Paris Hilton has found god in jail. The “bearded one” certainly abides in mysterious places.

What about a lump of wood?  Why not? To say that someone is “as thick as two planks of wood” usually connotes a high degree of stupidity. But, if one regards wood as having special characteristics, such as intrinsic value or that God resides within, well, then, just possibly, we could be giving the “two planks” person a fairly high compliment; a compliment usually reserved for the pope or the Dalai Lama.

Take the above close up photo of a piece of split firewood, for instance. With its nice rippling waves and golden color it makes me think of the curly hairs of the goddess, Venus. Definitely sensuous. Lots of places to hide in; certainly better than jail. Moreover, this piece of wood can be inhabited by whomever or whatever I want. This is the artist’s prerogative. Or, the poet’s. Or, the shaman’s. Or…. the child’s.

As a kid, my understanding of God was defined in the basement Sunday school class beneath the Christian Science church (not to be confused with Scientology). Here, the “Father/Mother” god of founder, Mary Baker Eddy, was gently hammered into our formative brains as being, along with Truth and Love, “Mind”.

God as mind. Very abstract; very Buddhist.

As a creation story, taking a bit of dust and blowing one’s breath/spirit onto it and creating something that can walk is, to my way of thinking, rather impressive. So, seeing as how kids play with sticks, dolls and anything else and can animate them—i.e., bring them to life in the Biblical sense—it would appear that to be godlike one has to have the mind of a child. Or, at least, the imagination of one; a mind that can easily connect with the greater, sacred whole. Therefore, as adults, since we all have minds, we’re also capable of transforming objects into subjects, nouns into verbs. All it takes is a bit of imagination.

It might be considered child’s play, but to imbue life into the inanimate is certainly the work of a great mind.

Life here at Windgrove gives many opportunities to practice using one’s imagination to see the inner reality of seemingly lifeless objects. Trees do have tongues, stones exude wisdom and teddy bears are compassionate. Grass, clouds, firewood, vases, whatever…… they all hide fantastic personalities within and they all speak from the one Mind.

And, they can be a great comfort in times of loneliness.

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I came across an article this week that talked about a proposal before the English parliament for a 4,000 km continuous corridor of clear and well managed public access along the entire length of England’s coast. Such a great idea. Sir Martin Doughty, Chair of Natural England said: “The principle is clear: the public should have consistent and secure access around their coastline.”

I couldn’t agree more. “Power to the feet”, I say.

Ever since reading Rebecca Solnit’s, Wanderlust: a history of walking, I have been fascinated with, and desirous of, creating paths for people to walk along. Surely, the two kilometre Peace Walk is a working statement of this fact.

However, as beautiful and inspiring as it might be, the Peace Walk is still on private land and the public has no legal access to it. This I don’t intend to change.

But, in total agreement with the English proposal above, I have been working with my local council to create a public footpath along Windgrove’s northern boundary (a distance of around half a kilometre) and all legal hurdles were recently completed after I “sold” a six foot strip of land to the council for $1. This now allows my neighbours and the general public legal access to the Roaring Beach Conservation Area.

As well, I am creating and maintaining a continuation of this path along the western boundary (adjacent with the RBCA) and connecting it to an existing path to the beach.

Some would argue that I am giving up control and privacy; that hooligans and trouble makers will descend like vultures onto the land; that the selling value of the land might even be lessened.

I would argue back that, as an owner of a coastal headland, I am morally obligated to provide this access. Growing up in America where wealthy land owners slowly closed off the public’s access to the coastal areas by building “gated communities”, I have seen how the average citizen can be locked out of experiencing the beauty of such areas.

In a way my motive is selfish. I want the earth’s natural treasures to be preserved. The more paths there are for people to walk or bike along the earth’s body, the more they will come to love her and, hence, protect her.

Instead of hooligans, I see kids with surf boards walking along the path, neighbours out for a stroll and gladdening hearts everywhere.

When I wake up in the morning, I want to wake up feeling kindness to all.

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My little red wheelbarrow. Over the past several years I have used it to haul many things. Needless to say, it has lightened my load considerably.

On Monday, however, as I was cleaning the ashes out of the pit containing the Peace Fire, an ember fell next to the wheelbarrow’s tire and “pshsssss” the tire blew. Try as I might to continue to use the wheelbarrow (to finish the job at hand), it couldn’t be done. The barrow held the ash, I held the barrow, but the little wheel was flat, thereby, throwing the whole operation out the window (so to speak).

It got me thinking. Isn’t a chain only as strong as its weakest link? Doesn’t life itself require all its various components to be well oiled and well maintained to function properly? Neglect any one part and the ability to move from A to B is decidedly more difficult.

The question I want to ask is: How do we move the world towards peaceful coexistence when the spiritual wheel needed to carry us there is flat?  Politicians and world leaders seem to be more “religious” these days, but, gosh, their religion seems debased.

Bush Administration’s “pro-life” stance appears to be limited to the unborn and the brain-dead. Despite being panned by critics everywhere, the Iraqi Horror Picture Show continues its run, as thousands and thousands of born foetuses – ours and theirs—lose their right to life.

It’s true, many people still feel that the affairs of the world should be left to the bolder and badder among us. But look what that leaves us with: Are you satisfied choosing between Saddam Hussein and George Who’s-Not-Sane? Now I know those “God, guns and guts” Old Testament Christians might have forgotten, but Jesus did say that the meek shall inherit the earth. In all undue immodesty, maybe it’s time for us meek folks to boldly step forth and accept our inheritance.

For just as 2000 years ago Jesus stood up to a class that placed the rule of gold above the Golden Rule, today we face the modern version of the Pharisees—the Phallusees, I think they are called. They cynically cloak themselves in religious robes, but the only power they trust is the power of the stick. Well, there’s another old saying: It doesn’t matter how big your stick is, if you stick your stick where it doesn’t belong, you’re stuck.

Another sign of the up-wising and coming evolution is that people are growing dissatisfied with the positionality of “my side vs. your side,” and are seeing the whole issue of sides from a new angle:  Maybe we’re all on the same side. For example, this argument between creationism and evolution is just another way for duelling dualisms to steal our energy. I believe in both. I believe the Creator created us to evolve, otherwise Jesus would have said, “Now don’t do a thing till I return.” I have it on good authority that the Creator is pulling for us: “Come on, you children of God. Time to grow up and become adults of God instead.”

You are probably familiar with the story of the Native American grandfather who tells his grandson that there are two wolves fighting inside all of us: The wolf of fear and anger, and the wolf of love and peace.

“Which wolf will win?” asks the young boy.
“Whichever one we feed,” replies the grandfather.

As my guru Harry Cohen Baba has said, “Life is like a good deli. Even if something isn’t on the menu, if enough people order it they have to make it.” So what kind of new world order are we ordering up? Do we feed the wolf of fear and buy into the “it’s every man for himself” story? Or do we nourish the wolf of love and evolve into the “we’re all in it together” story?

Release the old story—been there, done that—and speak the new story into the world. Dare to imagine what we could be doing if we weren’t spending so much of our livelihood on weapons of deadlihood. Think about it … think tanks where they think about something other than tanks. Young people living for their country instead of dying for it. Health and education fully funded, and the Air Force having to run a bake sale so they can buy a new bomber.

I don’t know who actually wrote the above quote, but I like it. He/she goes by the name of Swami Beyondananda.

Time for me to patch the tire (tyre, elsewhere).

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I find it interesting that when I focus my attention on one thing, it reappears in another form elsewhere.

For the past few days I have been painting steel pickets with a white paint. In the full sun they are bright. Painting them forces me to squint. Painting them also forces me to think.

The white stakes were made to mark out the new boundaries of the land being sold. As I was punching them into the ground a few hundred meters apart, not only did the “whiteness” of the stakes stand out strongly against the background, I also began to think of the color “white” as synonymous with “territory”.

Walking home, “white” and “territory” popped up everywhere.

The blossoming native currant bush with its hundreds of tiny white flags beckoned the busy bees to enter into their territorial space.

Out of the blue green ocean the white flag of the cascading wave emerged to beckon surfers into its territorial waters.

After having seen more white in one day than I would normally see in a week (even though the white was always there), I began to think that how a person views the world influences what they see in the world.

Today my focus was on white pickets and marking territory; hence, I saw more of this everywhere than I normally would. Likewise, when a fireman goes home, his senses are more in tune to see fire (or its potential) than mine would be. A police officer has better antenna to notice crime. Lawyers see defamation in every word (and money).

The Dali Lama? Because he meditates on loving kindness constantly, is he more capable than others in finding the love that resides in everyone and everything?

In other words, given that there is probably an equal amount of joy and suffering in the world, to have more joy in our lives it is not a matter of inventing it or working desperately to create it. We don’t have to do much more than just start seeing it. It is there already. Instead of focusing on the pain of life, squint your eyes and learn to see the abundant beauty that is everywhere, now, calling out to us to come suckle on the sweetness of its nectar.

And one last thing on things white.

Walking out onto my deck lately, I have noticed the beautiful white, painterly markings left by the tenant kookaburras marking out their territory in the branch above.

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