A Walk About In My Mind by Harold Stearley
Who, then, is “animate” and who “inanimate”? Within the assembly of the Lotus, all are present without division. In the case of grass, trees and the soil . . . whether they merely lift their feet or energetically traverse the long path, they will all reach Nirvana.
— Zhanran the Sixth Patriarch of Tendai Buddhism (1711-82)
As I was walking along the creek’s bank, my head was in a swirl. So much internal noise, while the outside world remained placid. Utterly calm and quiet. The only noises came from the trickling, crystal-clear, emerald water. The hum of seventeen-year cicadas. The occasional bee, wearing a cloak of pollen and having a belly full of sweet nectar, barely able to carry its own weight on its flight path back to the hive. And from the trees swaying, or rather dancing, in time with the Chief Western Wind.
A Black Swallowtail fritters past, in complete silence. Not a care in the world.
But, oh so much internal clatter. An orchestra of out-of-tune instruments each playing a different symphony. Does this tumult of turbulence comprise what we’ve come to call our Consciousness? Does all of this internal noise make us “Aware?” And “Aware” of what exactly?
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