Quotes to like or puzzle over: “There comes a time when you realize that everything is a dream, and only those things preserved in writing have any possibility of being real.” ― James Salter, All That Is
Sitting with grief does not seem to lend itself to a meditative calm. Perhaps the Practice needs be so second nature that it—the Something that reaches out to soothe, to comfort, is summoned then and there. Or perhaps it is the message that even grief, in its own justification for being, is something that feeds the ego. The ego of self.
Posted by Tao and Zen
When the walking is difficult we sit. When the sitting is difficult we lie down in our beds. When that cannot be done, it no longer matters.
“Compassion is not a relationship between the healer and the wounded. It’s a relationship between equals. Only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others. Compassion becomes real when we recognize our shared humanity.” ~Pema Chödrön
Buddhism has made such a smash into the daily lives of Americans. What was once a trickle of small proportions—Beats, aesthetes, and the curious, has become common place. Of course there are always those who feel threatened or diminished by what others do. Or feel that there is a pagan ritual involved with having a statue of the Buddha in a home.
Religion or philosophy, belief or practice, Buddhism is what you make it.
And no, the Buddha was not a god, nor did he claim to be one. And no, a statue of the Buddha in my home does not mean that I worship at the altar or an icon. And yes, one can be a Christian and still practice Buddhism.
It’s not always what it seems, this depression thing. It’s a matter of yes but then you’re not talking about what is called “clinical depression,” or the big D. Lao is the man, as is Buddha, as is the Tao for the get-up-in-the-morning-and-sing variety of depression.
But the decent into the Great Blackness—which is a very different color of Black—that’s something else entirely. When your mind takes hold of itself into a grip with an iron fist that repeats words and phrases and threats and obscenities that are more than a word like Torture can convey, that’s Depression. Imagine buried alive in a coffin of darkness. Imagine a jail filled with horrors beyond Bosch. When the only way out is to silence the thought-hell entirely, that’s Depression.
Whatever. When not there you do not want to conjure it. It’s the film-flam of the Devil. So until then, Lao Tzu will do. Until then, this works.