the Buddha, the Daimond Sutra, Huang Po, Wu-Men, Dogen

It's all beginning to blur...

I couldn't write about any one of the other passages after reading them. Padmasambhava's words had a depth to them that I couldn't help but get lost in, but the others seemed to be cut form the same thread, which isn't surprising, considering Buddhists believe they're from the same mind.

None of the readings bored me, and I am genuinely interested in the teachings of these men and women of the Buddhist faith. However, the message seems to be lost on me. I actually feel bad about this, like I've stolen a cookie and had to lie to my parents about it. It's this wonderful way of life, of letting go of pain and suffering and living a life of tranquility, and I can't begin to try and meditate without immediately wanting the suffering I so sorely need.

Having lived a life of loving capitalism, I find the idea of Buddhism far too foreign. I don't reject suffering, but accept it instead, knowing that we can grow past the troubles we have. I've learned to view problems as challenges, and pain as a way of recognizing those challenges. I've never once considered abandoning suffering, but rather learning new ways of coping and living with it instead. I don't what I'd do without self imposed suffering: the gnaw-on-your-own-ribcage sensation of teenage love is a pain I don't ever want to lose. Or craving. Obsession. Yearning. These are tortures that make life wonderful.

There's something about the detachment I see in the Buddhist faith that seems wrong for me. It works wonders for some people, but I couldn't live that way. Not now, at the very least. No suffering doesn't necessarily mean constant joy: if there are no dualities, then it be a neutral living. Peace is stagnation because nothing happens. With suffering, with duality, there is pain. There is suffering. But in contrast, there is also joy. Tears of joy. Gut wrenching smiles. Love that can tear buildings apart.

I can understand that pain can destroy people, but I also can understand the necessity of the terrifying and the problematic. Maybe when I am older, I will want something different. Maybe I'm only a month away from realizing I crave peace and calmness. But right now, in my wildly misunderstood youth, it's the pain and suffering that temper it into something worth talking about.

And that's a true suffering: when life is no longer worth discussing.