You didn't come into this world.
You came out of it,
like a wave from the ocean.
You are not a stranger here.
- Alan Watts
from Along The Way
The Buddha Mind contains the
universe.
In this universe there is only one pure substance,
One absolute and indivisible Truth.
The notion of duality does not exist.
The small mind contains only illusions of separateness, of
division.
It imagines myriad objects and defines truth in terms of relative
opposites.
Big is defined by small, good by evil, pure by defiled,
Hidden by revealed, full by empty.
What is opposition?
It is the arena of hostility, of conflict and turmoil.
Where duality is transcended peace reigns.
This is the Dharma's ultimate truth.
- Maxims of Master Han
Shan Te'Ch'ing, # 76, 1600 Journey
to Dreamland
Translated by Grandmaster Jy Din Shakya
posted to Wisdom-l by Mark Scorelle
Near Enemies
The near enemies are qualities that
arise in the mind and masquerade as genuine spiritual
realization, when in fact they are only an imitation, serving to
separate us from true feeling rather than connecting us to it. .
. .
The near enemy of loving-kindness
is attachment. . . . At first, attachment may feel like love, but
as it grows it becomes more clearly the opposite, characterized
by clinging, controlling and fear.
The near enemy of compassion is
pity, and this also separates us. Pity feels sorry for "that
poor person over here," as if he were somehow different from
us. . . .
The near enemy of sympathetic joy
(the joy in the happiness of others) is comparison, which looks
to see if we have more of, the same as, or less than another. . .
.
The near enemy of equanimity is
indifference. True equanimity is balance in the midst of
experience, whereas indifference is withdrawal and not caring,
based on fear. . . .
If we do not recognize and
understand the near enemies, they will deaden our spiritual
practice. The compartments they make cannot shield us for long
from the pain and unpredictability of life, but they will surely
stifle the joy and open connectedness of true relationships.
A
valley and above it forests in autumn colors.
A voyager arrives, a map leads him there.
Or perhaps memory. Once long ago in the sun,
When snow first fell, riding this way
He felt joy, strong, without reason,
Joy of the eyes. Everything was the rhythm
Of shifting trees, of a bird in flight,
Of a train on the viaduct, a feast in motion.
He returns years later, has no demands.
He wants only one, most precious thing:
To see, purely and simply, without name,
Without expectations, fears, or hopes,
At the edge where there is no I or not-I.
