Mirror, Mirror on the Wall
Our so called 'sense of reality' or knowledge or wisdom is a meld of all past experiences that form a mirror. Our perceptions of ourselves and others (objects both animate and not), which form the basis of our relationship with the external world, are but reflections of truth from this mirror. If the mirror is spotless then one can see the truth, clearly. If it is not, then the image is tainted by the imperfections in the mirror. But there is hope; these imperfections can be corrected and one can experience truth. This in my current understanding is what enlightened beings have achieved after a long period of persistent practice/penance/what-have-you. Assuming that we are all in search of this 'enlightenment' are we but slaves to the tainted reflections during this arduous journey? and the stains they project both on the viewer and those viewed? and the consequent pain that lingers on?
How do we start to clean this mirror? Firstly do we know for sure that the image that we see is distorted because of the imperfections in the mirror and not inherent in the object that is reflected? In which case it is not the mirror that needs cleaning but rather the object. I guess it will never be known for sure. But one thing is clear, once this thought process starts in one's mind then confusion is a constant companion. Yet, there is hope. Is that not the only virtue that takes us through life in the face of the fact is death is a certainty?
Questions like these and a million more pouring down on the mind like hailstones on a tin roof. Each stone creates a sound that resonates for hours in the boombox of an empty mind, numbing the senses, repressing expression and halting life in total. In this cacophony there are some sounds that sound familiar, some pleasant and some not as much. And in stringing up these individual notes, once in a while a tune emerges. One can then write a song to match the tune. My tune is almost composed but words seem to want to play hide and seek these days. I'll sing them loud when I've found them.
How do we start to clean this mirror? Firstly do we know for sure that the image that we see is distorted because of the imperfections in the mirror and not inherent in the object that is reflected? In which case it is not the mirror that needs cleaning but rather the object. I guess it will never be known for sure. But one thing is clear, once this thought process starts in one's mind then confusion is a constant companion. Yet, there is hope. Is that not the only virtue that takes us through life in the face of the fact is death is a certainty?
Questions like these and a million more pouring down on the mind like hailstones on a tin roof. Each stone creates a sound that resonates for hours in the boombox of an empty mind, numbing the senses, repressing expression and halting life in total. In this cacophony there are some sounds that sound familiar, some pleasant and some not as much. And in stringing up these individual notes, once in a while a tune emerges. One can then write a song to match the tune. My tune is almost composed but words seem to want to play hide and seek these days. I'll sing them loud when I've found them.
posted by supramenta at 3:35 AM
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