Lady Bug on My Knee

The office I work in gets invaded by lady bugs several times each year. Look up at the light in my office and you're likely to see at least seven or eight lady bugs, some alive and active, some dried out carcasses. The live ones buzz around our heads during these invasions, sometimes flopping on the desks in front of us, or flying bang into our computer screens.

Today, I spent several minutes watching a lady bug crawling up my pant leg. My legs were crossed, and I watched in fascination as the insect crawled to the top of my knee, the highest point it could reach. There it crawled around confusedly for several moments, down one side of my leg and back to the apex of my knee, then down the other side and back to the top again. Several times it would perch on the highest point of my knee and unfurl it's delicate wings, then launch itself into space. It would fly for only a fraction of a second, landing scarcely an inch or two away from the place it started out on my leg. It did this several times, as if uncertain of it's own ability to fly.

I stared at the unfolding process in wonderment, pondering what might possibly be going through the mind of that little bug. Why didn't it just throw itself into space and fly away. Why did it keep failing to launch, only to try again and again?

I realized that I could never understand what that bug was doing or thinking. And it struck me how metaphorical the situation was of my own relationship with God. Is it possible that God sits upon high, staring at me -- at all of us -- in puzzlement and wonderment? Do we appear as uncertain and unsteady in our flight as that little lady bug appeared to me? Is the lady bug really that different than all of us, reaching the highest point we can find, and then jumping around in blind confusion, making futile attempts to take flight? What help can God render to a being in that condition?

Finally the lady bug managed to launch itself into space for a longer flight. This time it managed to stay aloft for about three sustained seconds, all the while spiralling downward to the brown carpeted concrete that is the floor of my office. It landed with a thud on the floor and sat still for several moments. I thought it was dead, killed by the vicious impact it had sustained. I was just reaching to pick it up when it started crawling slowly across the carpet.

I saw my own life flashing before my eyes.

Buddha with an RPG

As the Buddha lay dying, he was surrounded by disciples seeking that last bit of wisdom from him. He was having none of that. He told them:

"Therefore, be ye lamps unto yourselves, be a refuge to yourselves. Hold fast to Truth as a lamp; hold fast to the Truth as a refuge. Look not for a refuge in anyone beside yourselves. And those who shall be a lamp unto themselves shall betake themselves to no external refuge, but holding fast to the Truth as their lamp, and holding fast to the Truth as their refuge, they shall reach the topmost height."

The truth is as elusive as the peace gazelle, but each of us has within ourselves the capacity to find it, recognize it, and hold it for ourselves. The message in the Buddha's dying words is that we must look inside ourselves, not outside, for the lamp of enlightenment. We must not rely on religious authority, religious tradition, or religious law to provide that Truth for us. We must find it for ourselves, as hard as that may be.

I've been slipping and sliding down the mountain of truth a great deal lately. I've got cuts, bruises and burns from the crumbly and sharp rocks of "fool's truth" that have shattered beneath my feet, causing me to fall. I'm back on my feet now, if still a bit woogity.

Today, I perceive a huge mountain of phony teachings on the pathway to the inside of me. Underneath all of that is my Lamp of Truth. So, taking advice from a friend, I have become like Buddha armed with an RPG. I aim the rocket at the base of the phony teachings and I fire.

We shall see if I get smooshed under the avalanche of debris that rains down on me.

Peace Gazelle, Lion's Pride

Peace is as elusive as a gazelle running from a hungry lion. The predator stalks, gets close, has the goal in sight, then the prey catches his scent and runs away. The hunger only grows, and the predator looks on in disappointment at the dust cloud that was his hope.

That is what it feels like to me right now. Happiness, peace, love seem to flee from me, allowing me close enough to catch a glimpse only to then pull away at speed.

On the plains of Africa, when the old lion is dethroned, he wanders aimlessly, catching what food he can when he can get it. How apropos that the alpha male lion is deposed and thrown from his "pride." The pride of lions is the curse of man. The peace he desires as elusive as a gazelle.

The hunger grows, and the predator -- in this case, a broken, mangy-maned old lion -- ponders a blessedly short life alone.

Mountain Lake of the Mind

Quote of the day:

"Well-being of mind is like a mountain lake without ripples. When the lake has no ripples, everything in the lake can be seen. When the water is all churned up, nothing can be seen. The still lake without ripples is an image of our minds at ease, so full of unlimited friendliness for all the junk at the bottom of the lake that we don't feel the need to churn up the waters just to avoid looking at what's there."

Pema Chodron
When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times

Task for the day and the rest of my life: meditate on the still lake of the mind.

Divorce Mood Music

Just in case anyone out there wants to share the mood, here are some good songs I've been listening too lately:

You Could Be Happy -- Snow Patrol
Sorry -- BuckCherry
Crazy Bitch -- BuckCherry
Shine On -- James Blunt
Coming Home -- John Legend
I Really Want You -- James Blunt
Give Me Some Love -- James Blunt
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For -- U2
With or Without You -- U2
Have I Told You Lately -- Van Morrison
Wherever God Shines His Light -- Van Morrison
Just Like Greta -- Van Morrison
Lonely and Blue -- Van Morrison

Creativity

Last night as I was doing my evening jog/walk, a poem formulated in my mind. I was working on it through the course of the workout, and could hardly wait to get home and type it into my computer. It is titled Phoenix Rising, a cliched title but appropriate for what the poem conveys.

I have noticed that it is in times of very intense crisis and emotional duress that I tend to be the most creative. As much as possible, I try to distill my emotions, to crystalize them in the form of words or poetry.

I sometimes wonder who gives a f*** about what is going on in my life, and inside my head. Why would they bother to read my poetry? Just who the heck am I to comment on the profundities of life anyway?

Maya Angelou once expressed similar hesitation about the quality and message of her poetry. But then she also said something very interesting. She said words to the effect that sometimes you just have to put the poem out there, and trust the universe that it will mean something, that it will touch the heart and soul of another human being. And so, I continue to reflect upon life, my own and others, and to write and to post. I trust the universe, if not my own talents.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

David Bowie used to rock out. His song Changes is an anthem for my life right now.

One of my friends has a great Blogspace called Behold a Giant Muh. It's a quirky, personality filled little blog that is always so much fun to read. Great photography really makes the site, but more than that, it's the pithy, aphoristic nature of the writing there that is so much fun to read.

Someone once said that emulation is the sincerest form of flattery. Well, I'm emulating the Giant Muh, and recasting this blogsite from a boring old, same old same old Blog to a less pretentious and less wordy blogspace.

And this concludes blog entry number one.