The Wildfire Of Our Being
Burning rubbish, we turn away our nose from the stench of the after-life wafting on the air hoping that it doesn't stick to our clothes. Helplessly, we remain rooted, gazing upon the wispy contrails of our own imagination in play. Whether in jest or in violence, existence changes not one iota. Frustrated, we turn away again and again seeking and desiring a new way of life, a life filled with that which we find pleasant and joy-full. What wonders we do behold as we continue to paint our selves on the canvas of life. Emboldened, we break stride and take all that we wish and leave nothing behind. Conquering, we stand tall in our pride and glee. What joy!
Unfortunately, all this too, perishes with a simple wave of the hand leaving no trails, no history, no reminders of what was. Yearning to capture our inheritance we hold tight to the past and with both hands tightly clutching thus, we foolishly miss the most precious of all. There are no good days and there are no bad days.
Ever watch-full, our search leads us to the four corners and back, over and over and still mysteries surround and confound us. Where is the way out? Through whom do we give favor in order to attain that which we seek?
In seeking we merely delay the inevitable. But as we remain the servants to our being, we continue to fall into action which regulates and guides both our humanity and inhumanity. Can folly be far from our perception of reality, so deeply clouded as we have created ourselves to be? Is nothing clear and bright but everywhere we do not look?
Perhaps the course to be unrolled in life is the event of letting our being burn out, to dissolve in a grand explosion of flame in which nothing remains. No embers to bind us, no ashes to adorn ourselves with. Nothing.
How is it that emptiness can be found, how is it that full-fillment is attained when we stop throwing garbage on the wildfire? How is it that peace, tranquility and full-fillment become not just the order of the day, but of eternity? We are what we most fear and in our own individual convoluted way, we take great pleasure in it's achievement.
Is it any wonder then that we get burned? Is it any wonder that we honor the time honored tradition of pain and pleasure so fervently and with such deep conviction?
It's true. The wildfire of our own being can only be put out through our own efforts, or more correctly, through ending the long dark night of the soul.
The search is over.
Let it be at an end.