Kampai!

“I've tried to read your stuff several times in hopes that something of substance or useful relevancy might peek through your literary indulgences, but I only find the musings of a guy who thinks he knows stuff and has kernels of wisdom to share. I'm glad you appeal to enough folks to help support your family. Why you even mention words like enlightenment or provide commentary on a dream escapes me. Enjoy the snow!”

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Ah, nothing like a good dose of internet trolling to wrap up the year.

Earlier this evening, I was sitting in the outdoor pool of the public bathhouse after a day on the ski hill. I watched the steam rise from the surface of the hot spring as snowflakes gently fell towards the ground and then evaporated instantaneously on making contact with the water...

All talk of ‘enlightenment’ and ‘illusion’ is frivolous. They are nothing more than words that lose their relevance the moment they leave our lips. Like the snowflakes, they are beautiful to behold and to contemplate yet in the moment they encounter the heat of the moment, they are reduced to nothing.

You may not find much substance in my writing, and I am not sure I can prove there is. I do not claim to be wise and in fact sometimes wonder if there is much wisdom in me at all. Yet, people are drawn to read my words for whatever reason and I am not all that interested in knowing why. Yes, my writing is indulgent as the writings of all writers are. After all we are perpetually expressing ourselves for others to read so on some level we must love what we have to say! But I don’t see it as a negative thing. I indulge in writing because I love it much as anyone might indulge in an activity which brings them joy.

Sitting in the rotemboro (the outdoor pool of a Japanese bathhouse), I was, for a period of time entirely by myself. Seated upon a flat rock in the pool, I gazed at the undisturbed surface of the water which reflected the waning moon flawlessly. I contemplated how even though the reflection was an illusion,  it was a reflection of a real thing.

Nothing is ever purely illusory. Every illusion contains a kernel of truth.

Then suddenly a group of three men entered the pool sending great ripples across the surface and waking me from my reverie. I felt a flash of irritation because my perfect reflection had now turned into a distorted morass of moon-fragments scattered across the water. I grumbled to myself about how the actions of others could distort ones pristine perception so easily.

When illusions collide, they make waves.

And yet… even broken fragments of the moon are but disconnected reflections of the same one reality.

Then what is there to fear?

Reality is. And illusions are simply the moon dancing on water.

As we say farewell to this year, I thank you all for your support and readership. Your comments, questions and engagement have been my muse - inspiring me to write as always.

My parting counsel for the year is:

Don’t get drunk on Zen! But if you do, make sure it comes out of a bottle.