Short – An Accidental Anarchist

The rhizome of life: Carl Jung

Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away–an ephemeral apparition. When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. What we see is the blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains.

Jung Carl from Memories Dreams Reflections

–x–

These times we live, the trials of our lives, they can seem such a drama. However, is this just a question of perspective? Are we too close? Are events the petals that will drop? If so, will they fertilise the soil?

Perhaps, in this, we have no choice, causality rules and as long as humanity endures the tapestry of rhizome develops. What can we do to ensure a healthy growth?

A perspective on the ever shifting collective consciousness of humanity, inspired by Jung.

Two monks carrying a burden

An older and a younger monk are walking back to their monastery when they notice a young woman passed out in the middle of a busy road.

The older monk tries to rouse her without response, before finally picking her up and carrying her from the road to safety. He manages to wake her and set her safely on her way. The younger monk is shocked and could not believe what he had seen happen.

They walk in silence for an hour, two hours, three then four before finally the younger monk can no longer suppress his feelings and says “You should not have picked up that girl, we are not allowed to handle women.” The other monk responds, “are you still carrying her? I put her down hours ago.”

What burden do you carry in the mind long after it ceased to exist?

Enter Zen from there; A simple Zen story of how to find peace

A learning student of Zen practice was out for a stroll with a more experienced teacher. They walked through the mountains near their accommodation. Majestic views, a cool evening, everything so calm, truly a blissful environment to walk.

After some time the student said to his friend, “I am trying to find Zen* but I keep thinking about where best to begin and how to do it”.

They continue walking for a few minutes. The student, lost now in further worry, begins to think his friend might not have heard the remark. He opens his mouth to speak again when his teacher comments. “Do you hear the steam? Enter Zen from there.”

The student listens for a minute or two, paying attention until he eventually hears the sound of a distant stream. “Satori”** He realised something he could not express.

They continue walking and for the first time the student experiences all there is around him. After some time however, his mind intrudes upon this peace. He asks his teacher, “What would you have said if I could not hear the stream? If I heard or saw something else?”

His teacher responds, “Enter Zen from there.”

We can choose to enter mindful alertness and find peace at any time using anything. I find myself guilty of demanding the ‘right’ circumstances sometimes. But, we can instead just choose to be alert and alive to the unfolding moments. Don’t let the mind make excuses or conjure layers of complexity.

We can enter Zen from anywhere!

*Zen – Something words cannot describe, but perhaps the state of completeness with the universe, mindfulness, alertness, presence.

**Satori – A sudden realisation or enlightenment.

Sign posts to the moon

A young spiritual learner was out for a walk with a wise old master and his dog. The evening was peaceful and cool. They walked in silence.

After some time the novice says to the wise master, “I have been learning various spiritual teachings on meditation and mindfulness”.

The master nods his head.

The novice then confesses that he has recently become lost with meditation. That the more he studies, the more lost he becomes. The various teachings say different things. So now, he does not know what to do anymore.

“Wise master”, he asks. “Do I look at the tip of my nose? or do I close my eyes? do I sit or stand? please tell me which approach is best and end this confusion”.

The master smiles. He the points to the moon and commands his dog to look at the moon. The dog simply stares at his pointing finger.

The master then explains, “Words are conceptualisation and are merely pointers to something beyond; do not focus on the pointing fingers or you will never find the moon”.

-x-

“All words about spiritual values are just hints. Don’t hold onto the words as if they are realities. They are hints, almost the way I can point to the moon with my finger – but don’t catch hold of my finger. My finger is not the moon. Although my finger was pointing to the moon, it was only a hint.”

Zarathustra: A God That Can Dance