The ancient yogis’ first concern was to find something beyond transience. Something permanent, constant, and dependable. They knew well that constant change was painful. It was also horrifying. If everything, all of living and dying was flux, if nothing ever stood still, then everything was little more than a vertiginous swirl, aperspectival madness, sound and fury signifying nothing. Life was meaningless chaos. So the yogis aim was to transcend the violent flux, to expand beyond it, to grow bigger than it and maybe even, finally, hold it within themselves the way a big bowl holds a beaten egg.
But the Buddhists went the other way around transience. Or not around it – straight down into it. They didn't set out to rise beyond transience, not to transcend and include it, but to fully feel it. Not to surpass it, but to recognize how they were part of it, to feel the molecules moving around in their bones, to chew on the gristle, to swallow that big wiggling fish whole.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Transience
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