Lonely without her. Learning like a Monk.
“People keep busy because they find it difficult to bear their own consciousness. They look for various forms of entertainment to escape from themselves. The greatest challenge lies in looking at oneself – by being “alone” with oneself.”
As the wanderer proceeds further through the Bardo and begins to get used to the lack of ground, she begins to identify with the higher aspect of being that is eternally free of the journey, the apparitions, and the illusion of time. The wanderer becomes joined with the unbounded freedom within which the world and the bardo float like stars in the night sky.
The Bardo is infinite in the sense that the wanderer remains in it so long as he identifies with the lower aspect of his being that seems to be traversing through it. The Bardo is unbounded in the possibilities it can throw into the mind and experience of the wanderer. All is possible. Any possibility can be repeated in different chords of experience indefinitely. The wanderer can wander forever if he does not choose otherwise. But forever is a strange notion. Wherever you are in forever, there is always infinite forever in front of you for you to choose to be free. Choosing is a matter of altering perception.
Away For So Long
He realised he was totally defeated by his own actions. He lay down in the sand to die. The lone vulture watched with interest from above. The sun shone down and seemed to say: “Hey there, don’t you want to play in the light today?”
The man stirred. He began to crawl forward again and as he crawled he found the energy to stand. He walked towards the city of his dreams once again.
At noon as the sun was at its hottest he rested under a macadamia tree that just happened to be there.
He recalled a time when he had been excited to be on the way. But now he could only summon up a brief prayer of thankfulness that against all odds he was still alive. He could not quite know who or what he was extending his thankfulness to.
In the cool of the early evening he began to run towards the city he knew was up ahead but could not see. He knew the people there were wondering why he had been away for so long. He knew there was someone waiting there for him but he could not remember her name.
In the city the people were concerned about nothing. The fellow who always sat in the cafe writing his stories was sitting there as usual. The young men and the young women were flirting with each other and disappearing up the stairs into the intimacy chambers as usual. The sun was shining as usual and the feeling of timelessness never was going away.
The fellow writing his story in the cafe stirred. His story could wait. He began to saunter through the streets towards the cottage he shared with his lover. He knew Belinda was waiting for him, and would be wondering why he had been away for so long.
“The first act of violence that patriarchy demands of males is not violence toward women. Instead patriarchy demands of all males that they engage in acts of psychic self-mutilation, that they kill off the emotional parts of themselves. If an individual is not successful in emotionally crippling himself, he can count on patriarchal men to enact rituals of power that will assault his self-esteem.”
— Bell Hooks
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