Prison of Our Minds

The need to ascribe meaning to new phenomena, experiences and encounters, virtually dominates every aspect of our tenure on this universe as human beings. The spiritual realm, in particular, has always been and shall always be fertile ground for leaps of symbolic imagination. For who can fault the almost poetic qualities of fantastical connections between natural phenomena and abstract concepts ranging from life to death? Paradoxically, a supposedly mystical approach to untangling mysteries of our existence eventually falls prey to our logical mechanisms of comparison, contrast, attribution and explication. How much more quintessentially human can humans be? Cynicism aside, it is nonetheless always interesting to ponder such manufactured symbolism. Why has fire come to represent spring? Why is water the element of summer? How does air amplify the secrets of autumn? Who has married the earth with winter? Have all the quadruples in the world, coincidentally or not, been engulfed in the tentacles of our magical cardinal points? With these imaginings, do we transcend the prisons of our logic? Or have we unknowing slipped the handcuffs back unto ourselves, foolishly dancing a jig of liberation only in our own heads?

Yesterday's Fool, Tomorrow's Magician

What a quantum leap it must be, for the Fool to make a solitary monumental stride and transform into the Magician. Yet it is a step that we all take, in the inexorable evolution of our souls; in the gradual and magnificient emergence of our consciousness - what some might call our participation mystique. How could a seeming buffoon, clasping unto little more than dainty roses in his hands, skipping merrily along the dangerously innocent rhythm of infancy, balancing precariously before a step that will send him plunging into the abyss, suddenly find himself donning the wizard's robes, standing in firm resolution, arms outstreched to connect the heavens and earth, with the sword, wand, cup and pentacle at his disposal? How could such an entity floating in pre-conscious limbo, albeit possessing all the charm and luck in the universe, become the Commodore and the gateway through which consciousness first embraces us? Perhaps the apparent majesty of the transformation boils down to careful definition of the boundaries of potential for both - in the former case, doubtlessly vague and imprecise, ready to be molded into one of a million possibilities. While in the latter, a more rigorous element of self control and positive direction comes into play. Whatever the case may be, this is a journey we are all destined to undertake. It is only a matter of time.

Unhappy

Wisdom from the Zen Master Raven.

Raven met Grouse moping around one day and asked, "How's it going, Grouse?"
Grouse said, "I'm so unhappy."
Raven said, "What do you think might make you happy?"
Grouse said, "I don't know. I don't ask for much."
Raven said, "Way too much."

On another day... Porcupine asked Raven, "What is the middle way?"
Raven said, "That's a really good question."
Porcupine said, "You're dodging my question."
Raven said, "You're dodging my answer."

Skeleton

In seeking recompense all our lives by swapping one perceived injustice for another, patching wounds with transient felicities and neglecting fresh droplets of blood, we commit the grievious blunder of overlooking the gradual yet eternal loss of our innermost energies. Those who retreat occasionally to ponder the cycle of fatigue, rejuvenation and renewal must realise that at the highest point of solitude, preparing oneself to tread once more upon the cycle becomes intolerably weary, maybe even painful. What lies in store for the meditative soul instead? Perhaps, just perhaps, the understanding that every step of introspection should lead to another path; akin to crossroads in a dense forest, which weaves another cyclical but fresh journey for the next phase of our lives. How else do you think that Grim Fandango successfully authored the saga of his life without fading away? Shed a tear and nod at the world and it's pain, wipe it away and pick up your paintbrush again.