Dear Maestro, where are we headed maestro? I got up today with less will power than an ant requires to roll up that ball of food security he contributes to his colony. And today was a better day maestro, for there are days when I wish for nothing but the coming of darkness; there’s a certain comforting anonymity in the darkness of the night that the sun-filled day could never give you.
Its been more than a couple of Sundays and many waxing and waning moons later that I’ve gotten myself to open up a brand new electronic page. But somehow, the magic is gone dear maestro, gone as mysteriously as it tends to come. Then what are we maestro, not knowing whether we’re dogs wagging our tails or the tails wagging us? I’m getting tired dear maestro and my lower back is caving in… did I do the right thing trotting the moral line or have I been duped by my own ruse?
The question that nagged me this afternoon as I lay half-slumbering half-awake was this: can one be rich and have money at the same time? Do morals and the dollars mix, make merry and dine maestro? How does one deceive oneself maestro?
The winter comes in revived, as if it was feeling good about not being summer, spring or the fall. The cold air sweeps in from everywhere and even the pores in my body are turning to Goosebumps awaiting a non-existent warmth. The last time I enjoyed a meal of simple fullness is a memory long blurred by confusion and the ravages of time and space on what has become a weary mind exhausted with everything that is beautiful in this world.
Dear maestro, what does it mean to be just be and yet not become mired in the murky world of men and manners? The body tires, ages and becomes nothing more than a reflection of what all things must become in time, decomposing tunes rather than singing new ones. The mind has gone captive, not knowing whether it is the captor or the victim.
The will to hope, become optimistic and see the rainbows for the hurt and pain is a shallow hypocrisy that laughs at itself. Dear maestro, where are we going with this life; this course; this monologue? The evening dusk descends and queer, as it seems; I’m back in my shack of a bed on the floor, the TV blaring old news in the emperor’s new clothes and everything is oddly familiar, familiarly breeding contempt for and with the world I’m tied with. There is no escaping that first fundamental truth the Buddha taught- life is suffering.
Dear maestro, life is suffering. I realize I’m useless. I write, but so what? I’m miniscule and in the larger scheme of things, downright dispensable. Thus realization seeps in, slowly, painfully… of the First Noble Truth.
The Four Noble Truths1. Life means suffering.
2. The origin of suffering is attachment.
3. The cessation of suffering is attainable.
4. The path to the cessation of suffering.
To live means to suffer, because the human nature is not perfect and neither is the world we live in. During our lifetime, we inevitably have to endure physical suffering such as pain, sickness, injury, tiredness, old age, and eventually death; and we have to endure psychological suffering like sadness, fear, frustration, disappointment, and depression. Although there are different degrees of suffering and there are also positive experiences in life that we perceive as the opposite of suffering, such as ease, comfort and happiness, life in its totality is imperfect and incomplete, because our world is subject to impermanence. This means we are never able to keep permanently what we strive for, and just as happy moments pass by, we ourselves and our loved ones will pass away one day, too.