A Fake or a Work-in-Progress?

A couple of things have brought me to writing this post today.

First up, Ben Naga’s mind-boggling poem “Identity Crisis“. Go and read it, then come right back

Second, a comment from someone close to me, made in the heat of an argument, along the lines of “you make out you’re this wise person, but really you’re not”

I feel like a fake.

In some blog posts, I point the reader in the direction of words of wisdom I have read from others (for example here, here and here) Words of wisdom that are inspirational to me and that I think may be inspirational to others. I recognise the wisdom of others, and aspire to follow them. I may fail. I do fail. But I try again.

I produce pages in my journal where I try to take on this wisdom and present it in such a way as it makes sense to me (and may, again, inspire others). For example here, here and here.  I do not always succeed in following my own advice.  But I try again.

I aspire to be kind and compassionate.  But often I am unkind and impatient.

I aspire to live in the moment.  But often I am plagued by regrets about the past and doubts about the future.

I aspire to be free from attachment and ego.  But often I feel insecure and in need of reassurance.

I aspire to radiate peace and happiness.  But often I radiate negativity and pessimism.

So, if I share inspirational words with you here, know that I am aspiring to follow them.  But often I fail. I am not wise. I do not have all the answers.

Maybe I am a fake.  It’s easy to present a wise persona online, where the nitty-gritty of daily life and interaction drops away.

But maybe I am just a work-in-progress, trying my best to tread this path – sometimes I stumble, sometimes I fall, hopefully I get up and try again.

The Time to Wake Up is Now

Rodney Smith, in his ego-shattering book, “Stepping Out of Self-Deception” notes three ways that lay Buddhism is inhibited. The first is the belief that monasticism and long retreats are the only way to realise one’s true nature. The second is misunderstanding the teachings of the long-enduring mind so that we believe that awakening can only arrive after a long, protracted practice history. The third, Smith says, is investing the sacred only within particular practices and conditions.

Reflecting on these, I created this journal page:

The time to wake up is now

What am I waiting for?

I don’t need to join a monastery or go off on year-long retreats.
I don’t need the perfect meditation cushion, a Tibetan singing bowl, Japanese incense, a beautifully carved wooden Buddha (nice as these may be!)
I can stop dividing my life into the sacred and “the rest”. Instead I can recognise that any moment can be a spiritual moment.
It doesn’t have to take years and years of diligent practice (unless I convince myself it does).

The question is: Do I want this or not?

I don’t need to wait for the future to be fulfilled.

The time to wake up is NOW! What am I waiting for?

On Giving

Over at his Nana’s house yesterday, Gman decided he would write some poetry – which you can read on his blog – and P (my much-beloved stepfather) mentioned that his father used to write poems and that he had a folder of his poetry. His dad would write poems on the train, and then painstakingly type them up on a manual typewriter. A labour of love, for sure. I don’t know much about P’s father – aside from the fact that he was a grocer by trade, and that he had been a prisoner of war in WWII. But reading his poetry, I felt a connection. His words conveyed the fact that he was a keen observer of life; a spiritual man; a thinker. It made me wish that I had known him.

One poem, in particular, touched my heart. It is called “On Giving”:

For me, this is a beautiful summing up of the practice of egoless generosity. I particularly love these lines:

Gifts of money, most can spare
Gifts of time – or love- more rare.
Self too often intervenes,
Mars the beauty of the scene.
When we think ourselves most right
Oft ’tis then we’ve lost our sight,
Blinded by our self-esteem,
We lose our soul, ‘tho vent our spleen.