Stream of conciousness 1

A word of caution. I don’t know what I’m writing or where it’ll go. I may not finish it, shape it, conclude it. Move with my thoughts:

“No, I need to get this right. Was Buddha right when he saw and said ‘sarvam dukkham dukkham’? Was he? They say he was an enlightened one, but he spoke about shunyata. They tell he attained nirvana, but he asked us to follow the Middle Path. Was he right? Or were his contradictory disciples right? There’s something wrong somewhere.

One thing, however, is certain. There are cycles of pain and joy. And unfortunately, though the human race loves to think otherwise, pain dominates. Pain is what we see in every aspect of life. Attending classes, waiting in traffic, following rules, craving for pleasure, wanting money, seeking good times – where is the bliss people talk of? And that makes me think, and think, and think.

And yes, Buddha too, did ponder. For days, precisely 49 they say, without eating, sleeping, talking, thinking… he experienced shunyata continually for 49 days. And then came the day of enlightenment. My search, analogous, but much weaker, would last a quarter of an hour, maybe a minute more or less. But my search is sustained. Each day, each quarter, these questions come up. And they go unanswered, sometimes laughing at me, sometimes sympathizing with me, sometimes belittling me. What they never tell me is what their answers are!

And then I meet people, see people, talk to them. And I ask them such questions. To some they never occurred, to some they were too naïve to be discussed, and for some they were perfectly solved ones. No one, however, ever became capable of giving me an answer I liked. But then, the great Buddha himself never did. He believed one needs to experience Shunyata before he understands, and that he can’t do for me or for you. It has to come from the seeker, from within.

After writing of all this crap, strange is the fact that those questions return. The very same questions that have been haunting, from whom I’ve been running come back. I want to break free. This symbolic freedom is useless. The questions tie me down, they rag me, strip me, pinch me. I need answers. Not to those funny little engineering problems. To these real exaggerated problems about life, about love, about future. About all those thoughts I deny every night as pity to get some sleep, only to wake up with them over me again. I want answers! And I want them all! I don’t know if ‘shruti’ or ‘smriti’ would help, I don’t know if teachings of wise men would. All I know is I need this peace of mind, and this real freedom from the slavery of my brain and my thoughts.”