It’s all a question of knowing where to look for one, but ask what would you do if you stumbled across it. It’s not a simple decision, nor should it be. The better question still is how you will know when you finally find it, for it is marked only deep within your heart.
Lao Tse, venerable one you would be pleased as I sit here drawing closer to the center quested for my Buddhahood be not seeking it amid the rain of fire from the hills above the blood congealing in the streets. I know not to ask and am unseen by the child and mother running through the street and untouched by the hail of ammunition biting at their heels. I smell the lotus mixed with the cordite giving scent to the morning and in the clouds see the approach of understanding.
No one is certain who painted the words on the wall. No one knew when the painting occurred, someone noticed the words one morning and told others, and the word spread through town. People stopped to look at the words, but few understood what they meant. Soon there were pictures drawn around the words, familiar faces, and people would stop, add words until the wall was a mural that could not be forgotten, only ignored by those who simply wouldn’t understand.
In a different world, I would write you stories, poems, that would bring a tear to your eye, that would make you laugh even when your mood would deny joy, that would bring freedom to some and loosen the shackles on many, that would reflect peace, that would lighten your burden, that would heal, if only small wounds, that would recall a better world and enable its rebirth. In a different world I would write you stories, but we live in this world and these are the words I have.
He came, stayed a while, and left, and it was only when he was gone that most missed him. Some say he will come back but others are skeptical, and no one really knows for certain. Some actually say that he didn’t leave, that he simply changed, and might appear when no one expects him. Several said it was a she, not a he. No one was quite certain of the person’s name, some said it was Jesus, some said Buddha, some said it was Tara, but the children said it didn’t matter really, that to see him, to see here, all you needed was a mirror, and the real name was simply Peace.
There is certainly a reason, though in the time it will take us to find it, we likely will no longer care. The easy things so rarely matter, and we turn our backs on them hardly thinking, only to regret it when they slip away, and only then does their value appear.
There will come a time she says, when all of this will matter greatly, the question is how you will know that moment has arrived. I assume, he said, it will announce itself, or at least make its presence known. No doubt, she replied, you will search for it, but just like me, you will find it gone.