Nothing stands as it presents

Plodding wearily through Marcel Proust’s meandering, long, complex sentences packed with figurative, tonic tropes marked by moving analogies, characters’ personalities, introspective tracing of thoughts and their processes, sense of exaltation in the form of the sixth sense sired by mindful observances of fleeting impressions and feelings that of sensuality, stumbling on mnemonic small events as a powerful aid for sparking off long forgotten personal events as flashbacks, I happened to get stuck to a faint thought, rather poking at me to come out and indite in my own way, that questioned me about the need of such engagements intellectually or stark illiterately. Yes, really, having something to do does matter, especially now at this juncture of modern age, the age of looming loneliness worked off by petty internet related means that are literally for brain drain. And, yes, having something important to do as per one’s own way of rating does matter. Then why not something out of stark selfless motive, something like letting other or others have a relief from any self-formed anguish by undoing it without obtruding oneself upon them as undoing it. 

And the great question remains of its, such sense of exaltation, ineffably beyond the grip of ‘the government of reason’, being able to tune the subject into a liberated being off the flurries of chaotic, discriminatory mental constructs, to render it really fecund, engaged but not just in one’s own reverie. But greater or more ineffable revelation can be reached through the core doings of wisdom-intellect-based mental activities rather than just pure personal taste and satisfaction and something like saying ‘It makes me happy.’ And, yes, whether lastingly liberating or not, such phenomena of exaltation, heuristically discoverable by anyone, are there as a trail of dream, our own projections, no ground for any presumptuous self-enlargement that could toss you into the same grossness of yours, the same mundane you. 

Thus to carry on ahead to our sweet home, could be analogized by the infinity of void or space, whereupon even this notion of subjectivity, there being a fabricator, is already blotted out. Then just the space and infinity, the true liberation. But, casting a look back, there being those innumerable still shackled to the notion of  rigidity and self-consequence far off the internalized realm of seeing personal projections as what they are to shutting them out to the nature of space by the fierce reductio ad absurdum of proving the groundlessness of the fabricator, for one is merged with such everlasting infinity by virtue of the grossness of one’s being, through being aware of it, the ledge to greatness through honing on ever… Then you can pave a way for others as well, why not. 

Having something meaningful to do does matter, meaningfulness in terms of why we live for. Having something coveted for doesn’t remain the same as when one dreams for it. And it’s itself a great proof of fact and fancy, romantic idea and reality. 

And, at last, as we were born alone, we have to leave alone the aftermath of which remains stark mysterious to us, but there is such a phenomenon bereft of what we have rigged up materially in this life. Yes, saying as a ledge does matter for seeing and acting accordingly. 

CTA’s Middle Way Approach: a personal perception and inference

 

The notion of ‘global family’, humankind as the most intelligent ape despite the Darwin’s theory of presumptuously proving it as from the lowest strata of its family, the globalized economy more and more based on capitalistic or materialistic emulation or reciprocity, a pan-racial entity, the nascent yet working European Union, and, to put it idealistically yet not exaggerated, our only choice is to co-exist on this life-supporting blue planet, the landmass checkered with the lozenges of a variegated carpet, each rhombus of different size and hue and speciality and character and depth, and the inhabitants’ personalities and cultures and moral fibers based on being able to approach complex entities--our perception and inference and the reality, nuance, discrepancy of how it appears and what it’s--through reasoning or any available logical analysis, and more significantly, being able to be eclectic and free and receptive of ocean of knowledge: His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s advocacy of Middle Approach--Tibet to be within the framework of China, a China in quest for greatness, any heuristic enlightenments but through ratcheting up increment by increment, and that by being able to adopt ‘realistic’ approaches, not madness and blindness, spearheaded and guaranteed by a working, reliable, demo-oriented constitution--can be called as a great extension willing to redound to this great notion of ‘global family’, our only choice so far. 

ཤིང་ནགས་མེ་ཏོག དངོས་འབྱུང་གློག་བརྙན། Wild Flower - Documentary Film

"My children should be like a Wild Flower, resilient in any situation. Not like a garden flower, very delicate." ~ Rinchen Dolma Taring (Taring Amala) 

Lying down flat on my back at Parc de Noisiel and languidly observing those fluffy dandelion (but no, it's thistle) fluffs shooting across the patch of speckles azure void partly bordered with plane trees and chestnut trees leaves, while my mate beside me was recounting about his flight experiences something like controlling time or having a sense of living and doing, I couldn't stop repeating the above two-sentenced quote of Taring Amala. I had for the moment forgotten my obsession with my lagging behind in reading what I had been reading, to carry on steadily, and such a pugnacious notion like ensuring myself that those silver birches down there at one end of the lawn were real birches, not aspens. And also such impression, of my mate, that the pale blue leaves of birches amid the leaves of other trees at a distance, across the lawn with heatwaves jigging up, present as a mirage, like a burr of smokes.