I am able to sit still for past few months. I am able to do mundane things – watch movies, cook and waste my time staring at the fenced backyard while I am working part-time. I am creative; I am alive. Several thoughts surface as I sit cross-legged in the patio – feeling the bright, flirty air – watching the sun dancing through the shade of Buddha and a few pale-yellow daffodils breathing contrast into an otherwise monochromatic green yard. I touch the bubble of my universe. I peep into my glass. It looks beautiful holding a reflection of my entire life.
I look within – there is nothing.
I step away – there is everything.
Perspective is key.
There is seeking, there is finding; there is family, there is solitude. There is creativity, there is a lull. There is a huge room filled with faith and there are doors of doubts. There is a longing and there are several sprouts of fulfillment. There is love and there is despair; there is life everywhere and there is a small opening for illness and death.
Is it full, empty, half? I don’t know – I cannot categorize it. It isn’t either-or, it is changing. It is a mirror of my evolution. Without the emptiness of failures, success wouldn’t have occupied it and without confidence, disappointments would have kept it vacant. Emptiness and fill are entwined as yin and yang, one does not exist without another. The glass is such – filled with spaces of past and future and padded by the present moments – with small bubbles of mindfulness between large deserts of ignorance. There are distances to be covered, there is more to be understood and there is more to be lived.
Here is a well-known Zen story:
A Cup of Tea
Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.
Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.
The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. “It is overfull. No more will go in!”
“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”
I wish my cup is vacant with hunger and foolishness when I sit in a classroom to learn; I wish it overflows when I offer love and support. I wish it allows me to make mistakes, to grow and to live. I wish it always has enough to get me by.