I lost my Satori in a Strawberry Sundae
Satori is a state of following your inner voice. It is, according to Zen philosophy the key ingredient to a life of contentment in spite of circumstance.
This year I lost my satori. Everything I touch turns to crud. Finding it again won't be easy, buddhist monks spend years in meditation pursuing it, others go walkabout. Shaving my head doesn't turn me on and orange is definitely not my colour so that leaves going walkabout. I just might get a chance. A friend of mine had to cancel her trip to Bangladesh and we feel it might just be a sign that we should take the shreds of our travel plans and resurrect them in a new plan for Asia in January.
I envision satori as a min min. A faintly bobbing light in the desert night which leads you towards it but as you grow near it suddenly vanishes and you are left wondering if what seemed so real really was. So you keep going, hoping that you will see it again, all your faith placed in an ephemeral being that whimsically appears and vanishes at will. When you do see it, you know its real, its God, its your communication channel with destiny and fate incarnate. When it vanishes, you are plunged into disorientating darkness. You wonder what you did to chase it away. Or was it just playing with your emotions, tripping and skipping like a laughing child, not caring about the devastation it creates in its wake? I believe the purpose of satori is to inspire you to go further. Your satori won't protect you from devastation or ensure success. But it does inspire you to believe in the unseen, the unexplored and the unimaginable.
This year I lost my satori. Everything I touch turns to crud. Finding it again won't be easy, buddhist monks spend years in meditation pursuing it, others go walkabout. Shaving my head doesn't turn me on and orange is definitely not my colour so that leaves going walkabout. I just might get a chance. A friend of mine had to cancel her trip to Bangladesh and we feel it might just be a sign that we should take the shreds of our travel plans and resurrect them in a new plan for Asia in January.
I envision satori as a min min. A faintly bobbing light in the desert night which leads you towards it but as you grow near it suddenly vanishes and you are left wondering if what seemed so real really was. So you keep going, hoping that you will see it again, all your faith placed in an ephemeral being that whimsically appears and vanishes at will. When you do see it, you know its real, its God, its your communication channel with destiny and fate incarnate. When it vanishes, you are plunged into disorientating darkness. You wonder what you did to chase it away. Or was it just playing with your emotions, tripping and skipping like a laughing child, not caring about the devastation it creates in its wake? I believe the purpose of satori is to inspire you to go further. Your satori won't protect you from devastation or ensure success. But it does inspire you to believe in the unseen, the unexplored and the unimaginable.
