Chow: Sigh... are we all not fools when it comes to love?
Old man: hm?
Chow: Since it is impossible to love without hate, the question now becomes which of the two do we choose to lean on day to day. Yet, even if we lean towards love, hate lingers behind the scene, and even if we lean towards hate, love lingers behind the scene. Madness... simply maddening.
Old man: hm... why are you saying this to me?
Chow: Its catharsis I guess.
Old man: Utterly pointless.
Chow: Even for self reflection?
Old man: Reflection is only possible when there is something to reflect upon. Now that you have catharted, what is there left to reflect?
Chow: But keeping it in destroys me.
Old man: Yet letting it out is just another form of escapism. Besides, how can anything destroy you?
Chow: ... at most it destroys my body, it destroys the ego, but it doesn't destroy me.
Old man: So what is the problem then?
Chow: Nothing... nothing at all.
*hits Chow on the head with a stick*
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Monday, April 7, 2008
Little quotes
Renunciation is not getting rid of the things of this world, but accepting that they pass away.
Aitken Roshi ...
Aitken Roshi ...
Friday, April 4, 2008
Where is the "I"?
Old man: Where is the "I"?
Chow: I... I have exhausted my search. For years I have been so concerned about hurting "myself", unwilling to participate in certain experience, unwilling to venture, a coward. For years I have been so concerned with pleasing "myself", unwilling to give up certain pleasures, unwilling to detach, a big baby.
I have exhausted my search. Where is the "I"?
Is it my head? The thing I regard so much when having a migraine? This head of mine had caused me to fear the sun, to fear the heat, for everytime it meets the sun and heat pain arises. But then I asked, who is the sun hurting? At most it hurts my head, it doesn't hurt me. Where is the "I"? My head isn't it.
Is it my penis? The thing I regard so much when I'm experiencing lust? This penis of mine had caused me to hang on to sex, unwilling to give it up. I thought I was getting intense pleasure out of it but then I asked, who am I pleasuring? At most I am but pleasuring my penis, it doesn't pleasure me. Where is the "I"? My penis isn't it.
Is it my body? Is it my limbs?
Is it my ears? The one that hurts so much whenever somebody throws a harmful remark at me. At most, it hurts the ears, it doesn't hurt me. Where is the "I"? The ears isn't it.
Is it my eyes? The one that hurts so much whenever I see something I don't want to see. At most, it hurts the eyes, it doesn't hurt me. Where is the "I"? The eyes isn't it.
Is it my skin? The one that feels so much pleasure when I put on the smooth and silky clothes. At most, it pleases the skin, it doesn't please me. Where is the "I"? The skin isn't it.
For everything I did or didn't do, I did it for "myself", for the "I"... yet today I couldn't find the "I"...
Where is the "I"?
Where?
*starts to cry... T_T*
Forgive me old man, I don't know where is the "I"...
Old man: You have finally understood... The "I" has no identity, it could not be defined, it could not be found, because it never existed. No apology necessary, you have found a treasure more valuable than all the riches in the world come together.
Chow: I... I have exhausted my search. For years I have been so concerned about hurting "myself", unwilling to participate in certain experience, unwilling to venture, a coward. For years I have been so concerned with pleasing "myself", unwilling to give up certain pleasures, unwilling to detach, a big baby.
I have exhausted my search. Where is the "I"?
Is it my head? The thing I regard so much when having a migraine? This head of mine had caused me to fear the sun, to fear the heat, for everytime it meets the sun and heat pain arises. But then I asked, who is the sun hurting? At most it hurts my head, it doesn't hurt me. Where is the "I"? My head isn't it.
Is it my penis? The thing I regard so much when I'm experiencing lust? This penis of mine had caused me to hang on to sex, unwilling to give it up. I thought I was getting intense pleasure out of it but then I asked, who am I pleasuring? At most I am but pleasuring my penis, it doesn't pleasure me. Where is the "I"? My penis isn't it.
Is it my body? Is it my limbs?
Is it my ears? The one that hurts so much whenever somebody throws a harmful remark at me. At most, it hurts the ears, it doesn't hurt me. Where is the "I"? The ears isn't it.
Is it my eyes? The one that hurts so much whenever I see something I don't want to see. At most, it hurts the eyes, it doesn't hurt me. Where is the "I"? The eyes isn't it.
Is it my skin? The one that feels so much pleasure when I put on the smooth and silky clothes. At most, it pleases the skin, it doesn't please me. Where is the "I"? The skin isn't it.
For everything I did or didn't do, I did it for "myself", for the "I"... yet today I couldn't find the "I"...
Where is the "I"?
Where?
*starts to cry... T_T*
Forgive me old man, I don't know where is the "I"...
Old man: You have finally understood... The "I" has no identity, it could not be defined, it could not be found, because it never existed. No apology necessary, you have found a treasure more valuable than all the riches in the world come together.
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