Tonight, if all goes well, I will be a monk in a good-sized Buddhist temple. I am hoping it will be in Nara, at Todai-ji perhaps, or Asakusa at Senso-ji, or better still somewhere in Kyoto, although it might well be in the Myanmar jungle or somewhere deep within the Laotian highlands.
One problem with that world is that I have no control over it, which, come to think of it, leaves it like the waking world which has never hewn to my direction.
I’ve had this desire for weeks on end, and I suspect tonight will be no different, and I will spend eight hours sorting files, writing cease and desist letters and trying to convince myself that even that is a form of mindful meditation and abiding kensho will arrive in the next rapid eye movement.
Our purpose is to understand and then explain the order of the Universe: the logic of the neat array of stars from our centrally located observation deck, the galaxies as so many fractals seeking to hide their organization. We have no ability to control and lack the mechanisms to make all but the most minute adjustments and then as if to energize a stray electron into a higher energy state. We would like to foretell but we have no essential premise on which to erect our framework just a cornerstone unwilling to settle in place or time. We can only recount what we have learned cautious that we miss only events of lesser importance even if they are prehistory long before they occur. Before the beginning was the beginning.
There is a reason – there must be a reason for everything, that is just how things are supposed to be, how we decree them. And when things are events, we are at liberty to tell them to comply with our direction. If they fail, then we consign them to miracles or the work of the devil, though we expect him to obey the rules as well, for otherwise he, too, would be a miracle and that would leave a Gordian knot we dare not try to unravel.