The Buddha is my Mother (and my Mother is I)
And what is this thing that we so much want to hold onto after all? The indescribable fear that robs each moment of its sense of adventure, mistaking quicksand under our feet for solid land?
Mother, is it that we didn't fall in love at first sight? God knows we tried.
Up until those tortured, hope-forsaken final days, amid the anger, the tenderness, the terror, the bitter and the human, God knows we tried. Caving in perhaps, broken certainly; we gave it our best shot.
It wasn't easy when you were alive, it's not easy without you. Existence required a justification from me in both cases, despite your best intentions. Once in a while I catch that feeling of being eight again, running around our neighborhood with Savvas, the afternoon stretching out before me in lifetimes. There is nowhere else to be but here, by the side of the road, smelling the lemon blossoms reaching out to me from kiria Sofia's garden. I am caught by surprise by that fragrant sense of freedom. It was there all along, Mother. If only we weren't so terrified of it. I imagine Eve's pain at losing it the very first time for humanity. The loneliness...Mother I don't blame you at all. The serpent was merely our inheritance, stretching languidly for generations in the crevasses of our ancestors' minds. If I fail to tame it, Mother, I will wear it down into a beautiful ostrich egg and gift it to my daughters.
And what of the shame? For so long I have confused my humanity for a shortcoming, and aspired to be some idea of me, above all failure and above all truth; turns out reality is sweeter than perfection.
It is not without grief that I report to you that our suffering is merely a glitch in the matrix, namely our survival mechanism gone rogue: not only does it detect problems, it invents them so it can remain relevant and satisfied. Oh mind, you greedy little bastard! You've swallowed up the universe and convinced it it were me!
Little clusters of cells buried in a bony skull...the closest thing to a miracle I've ever experienced. What else contains within its microscopic membranes a Dantean Hell and a Dantean Heaven? Separating the two a mere intention, honest like first love but meek as a fawn.
Mother, I had a dream you were screaming at me and pushing me away. I stayed put this time, I did not slam my bedroom door. I opened my arms wide and embraced you, held you tight until you stopped struggling. Your body relaxing in my arms is how I imagine it feels like to surrender to God. Thank you, for coming into my dreams.
So I know when I am forced into a corner in my life, as now, that all my sadness and my thrashing is futile. Despite my rebellious laziness I am a quick learner; in four years I have managed to see deep into my future right up to the moment of my death, and I would like to submit an amendment:
I'd like for this Energy, that came from the Heavens, and this Awareness, that came from Beyond, and this Flesh, that came from the Earth to come together in peace and agreement, so that this piece of the whole relaxes into the current of Life.