One of my close childhood friends, named Tashi Dorjee, who had been residing in NY as an ordained but not necessarily in form, died of chronic liver disease known as Hepatitis B yesterday. The news came to me from one of another close childhood friends of mine named Dorjee, who, too, has been residing there, and as I have been reading Tsering Yangzom Lama's WE MEASURE THE EARTH WITH OUR BODIES (bought from Google Play Books as an eBook format), I, too, found it something like 'a wet cracking sound' dealt on me, on my head, on my not-going-to-die tomorrow's certainty. Well, are we really living?
The question remains, for being an untimely death, of our taking it for granted, our health when we are hale, not thinking of maintaining it through a working discipline imposed on ourselves. Why a Westerner reads and maintains his physical fitness? Maybe for his or her 'this life' related dreams or future or anything obtainable as per a looming philosophy of solipsism at the backdrop of his or her mind. Why we don't do so? Maybe as of our hereditary programming of the sort, not so much for this life as it's for better ones to come to nirvana in due course. But not knowing even the workings of our gross physical and fluid mental systems wont fare us being eligible in the first place for such an ineffable goal of complete freedom, I think.
