Big Mouth

A couple weeks ago I talked about the silent treatment. In a separate posting I talked about the book, The Four Agreements. Today, the combination of the old adage ‘If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything,’ and the first of the four agreements ‘Be impeccable with your words’ come to mind.

I’m a chatty person – to put it mildly. I like to talk. It’s not so much that I like to hear my own voice as it is a matter of wanting to stimulate conversation. I’m not very concerned about the topic conversation, so long as there is conversation. However, I sometimes think I should be a little more attentive to the topic.

Referencing a third posting regarding Old Age, I talked about Israeli backpackers. I knew when I wrote the entry that I would probably offend. When I, myself, first heard about this phenomenon, I was rather skeptical. I thought I was hearing some anti-Semitic slander. However, anyone who has encountered this situation knows that it is a very real deal. I wasn’t meaning to offend anyone, I was trying to make a point about an un-harnessed mind. Unfortunately, I lost a few regular readers as a result. It makes me feel bad that this happened, but I wont retract my words; politics are just not for me.

This is nothing new to me. Both in writing and in person, I have offended people. I have often lost their interest and appreciation. Yet, I do not seem to be willing or able to curtail my uber-candid speak. It is the razors edge all over again. If I were to hold back on my opinions, as uncomfortable as they may be, I would feel I was not being true to my nature. It is, in part, my candor, which assists me in gaining the trust of others; people who work with me know that I will cut through the bullshit very quickly to arrive at a sound conclusion.

Over the years, I’ve been burned many times by this part of my personality. I have also gotten a lot of miles out of it. I’ve tempered my tone and words (a great amount of thanks to my infusion in Canadian society) yet I still do not hold back.

Is it necessary to sugar coat my words in order to be impeccable? Or can I be the straight shooter that I am as long as I make it clear that I am striving for the ideal and not for comfort?

Hitch’, Gates, Slim, Kumari

I never really knew much of Christopher Hitchens. I’ve heard his name a couple times but I’ve never considered much of what he has to say one way or the other. His book, God is Not Great, apparently is causing a bit of a stir.

I’ve never really knew much of Kumaris (literally translated from Nepali as ‘virgin’). I might have read about Sajani Shakya, the Kumari Devi of Bhaktapur, but I’ve never considered any form of worship for this current incarnation of Taleju. Apparently, Kumari Devi tainted her goddess blood by visiting the United States of America. She’s been dismissed.

I’ve heard of Gates and Buffet, but I’ve never heard of Carlos Slim, the richest man alive with a net worth of $67.8 billion. I don’t think very often of the net worth of these people – I’ve read books by and about them, mostly because I need to stay current, or at least sound like I have a foggy notion of who’s who. Apparently, someone has noticed that Carlos Slim wore a plastic watch.

People find things offensive. They fired Don Imus for opening his mouth one too many times, but no one surveyed radio listeners to find out how many people simply tuned into another channel, a channel more palatable to their own perspective. Is God great? Or is God not great? Is this a decision you want to leave to Mr. Hitchens? Has Taleju left the body of Sajani Shakya? Should faith in Taleju be suspended until a more submissive and less adventurous vessel is found? Should I pity myself – my poverty – because I can not spend an unjustified $9.7 million on a jet?

We have to make our own choices in this life. We have to accept the choices that others make. If a person wants to be an anti-theist, that is their prerogative. As a committed practitioner of my faith, I must accept other’s choices or I must abandon my own belief that the onus is on each individual to carve out their own position. If someone or something helps out along the way, so much the better.

If organized religion is deemed evil by your neighbor, allow them to avoid it – until they find a different viewpoint, it will indeed remain evil in their mind. If a goddess transgresses from the age-old way, maybe it is time to rethink the age old way and not the goddess. If a man, after 13 years of being the wealthiest becomes the second wealthiest, has anything changed? Has anything changed for you? Is your faith shaken? Stirred?

I once heard a story of the Buddha who taught that if you meet someone and they tell you your religion is inferior, you should agree with them, smile, and continue on your way.

In the Laos language there is an expression, Lao de jao. I hear it quite a bit. It means It’s up to you. It’s up to you, Mr. Hitchens, to decide what you want to do. As for me, I will make my own decisions.

Retrograde

Retrograde is one of those funny words. It has a meaning, but in some contexts the meaning is not exactly accurate. There are several definitions of ‘retrograde’. Essentially it means “moving in a backward direction”

I first started hearing the word ‘retrograde’ in the mid-1970’s. In Boston, Massachusetts, the Cosmic Muffin, a radio personality, did a daily astrology forecast. Often, I would hear him say the words “Mercury retrograde”. I liked the sound of it, but I didn’t really know what it meant until years later. ‘Mercury retrograde’ means the planet appears to move in backward direction.

In reality, it is not that a planet is moving backwards, it is an “illusory planetary motion created by the orbital rotation of the earth, with relation to other planets in our solar system.” (www.astrologycom.com).

Mercury, the planet, is mainly associated with communication and travel. Often, when Mercury is retrograde, things go a little haywire. Packages get lost, contracts go belly-up, misunderstandings abound during this period. Many people get frustrated with their lives during a Mercury retrograde period – it typically lasts about 4 to 6 weeks. While some things go astray during Mercury retrograde, other things go quite well. One of the beneficial aspects is reconnecting with old friends. Mercury retrograde is an excellent time to reconnect with old friends.

And now, today’s story begins…

Leaving New York City was very difficult for me. It was home. My friends were there. My career was there. My life was there. However, I felt inside me an emptiness that I felt could not be filled in the confines of Brooklyn. So, I decided to make my way around the world to see if there was a spot that suited me. So far, I am halfway around. This week is the four year anniversary of the beginning of my journey. I guess don’t like to move very fast.

One of the reasons I’m taking my time doing this is that I’m not a stamp collector – passport stamps that is. Instead, I like to sit in the same café for a month and see the daily routine around me. I like to settle into a place and learn about the people and the cool places and the people who pass through. Along the way, I meet people and they become friends. It’s rather unconventional, but my friends are scattered around the globe. I hope, when we’re all very old, it will be as easy as catching a subway to go from Hong Kong to Vancouver. Or maybe it will be from Venus to Mercury that we travel at light speed.

The other day, I received an email from a musician friend of mine. He and I met in 2001 via a random phone call. He had actually called to speak to the person I was subletting an apartment. Ever since that one phone call, he and I have been very close friends. It turns out we are distant cousins. I was very happy to receive his email. He is continuing his pursuit of music (he’s a dyed-in-the-wool rocker) and his band, Needless Junkie, is doing well. The most excellent bit of news I heard (and here’s where I’m going to make a point, so pay attention), the bass player in the Band, Matt Holt, is still winning his 10 year fight against leukemia.

Matt is one of the many inspirations in my life. When I first met Matt, it took me a while to be able to comprehend how a person fighting such a deadly affliction could be so positive and even keeled. As I got to know him, I learned a big lesson about following your heart. Matt, also a died-in-the-wool musician, loves to play guitar. He’s quite amazing on the lead guitar, although he plays bass in the band. I don’t think Matt has filled his head with misguided aspirations. He stuck to what he loved; music. I think, in some ways, this has helped him with his struggle.

I like to think, that I, too, am sticking to what I love; writing. Possibly it is partially by the inspiration of Matt Holt, that I have the courage to take these risks and live comfortably with the outcome.

How about you? Are you comfortable with how you spent your day? Do you remember to keep in touch with your friends? The past is gone, yet we can continue build on those foundations to live a rich and wonderful life.

Perspective

Does this board make my tail look big? 

My plans for today had to change.  Originally, I planned to head out of the city to visit my friend’s relatives.  My friend had prepped for the visit.  They are extremely poor – no light, no food, only a shack, sheltering the parents and some children.  I’ve seen this type of thing before, but, for some reason, I had a certain apprehension.  I am very close to my friend.  It breaks my heart to see her relatives hungry.  I search for ways to help without insulting dignity.

About a year ago, I met my friend’s sister; the wife of a farmer.  She too is very poor.  In her home she has a mat, a charcoal grill, a small jar of salt and a nearly empty bag of rice.  She also has two pots for cooking.  In the corner, there is an old fashioned rifle where the gunpowder is poured down the barrel, tamped and a plug is dropped in afterwards.  That’s pretty much all I saw.

We visited for about an hour or so.  She was cooking dinner for her family.  Dinner was a handful of rice and two tiny pieces of chicken.  A generous host, she offered me a piece of the chicken and some sticky rice.  I could not accept it – my belly was full from a marvelous meal earlier that day.  She was one of the many kind and sincere people I have met in Laos and her abject poverty was shadowed by her happiness and her show of love for her child and sister and her openness to meet her sister’s friend. 

I remember feeling quite poor that day.  Not because I have no money or because I am hungry, but because I have had too much.  In comparison, I have lived a life of opulence.  In my family also, there is a wealth of love and kindness.  In my family there are unbreakable bonds that will last through eternity.  We use the phrase “I’m starving” only as a euphemism – we have been very fortunate to not know true hunger.  In the back of my mind, as I sat there that day, I felt an incomprehensible feeling that somehow because of my fortunate circumstances, I understood nothing of life.  It’s hard to put into words exactly where that thought comes from yet it is an intangible feeling I will never forget.

Yesterday, in the news, President George W. Bush commuted the sentence of Scooter Libby for his obstruction of justice on matters of national security of the USA.  I think about the amount of money spent as a result of this one decision.  There were millions of dollars spent on media, broadcasting, and advertising.  There were immeasurable megawatts of energy spent on reactions to this decision – op-ed articles, analyst responses, heated discussions in pubs and think tanks.  It seems that poor Mr. Libby will still be out of about a quarter of a million dollars in penalties and suffers irrevocable damage to his career.

The people who I did not meet today, they don’t know who Scooter Libby is.  They don’t know who Valerie Plame is.  They have never heard of Joseph Wilson.  They don’t have a television with cable and CNN and BBC.  They have empty bags of rice and hungry children and they burn non-existent candles down to the very last thread of a wick.  The millions of dollars which were spent around one decision in the first world yesterday did not consider whether these people will eat tomorrow.  The turmoil and suffering and career devastation of this one person seems so out of context with what most of the world thinks about everyday; where will I find my next meal.  It’s times like this, I wonder why I bother to turn on the television at all.

I hope tomorrow to head out of the city to meet these relatives.  I am not sure what I should bring.  I’ve considered bringing a copy of the Bangkok Post or a video clip of Mr. Libby’s perjurous testimony.  Instead, I think I will bring some rice and some left over duck from tonight’s dinner.  As I sit in their home, I will try not to think about how badly Mr. Libby is suffering.  I will try not to think about how difficult it is to be a war time president or a whistle-blowing ambassador.  I will try not to think about a lot of things that seem so out of perspective when we are stripped of our comfortable and contorted first world values.

Cow Tits

Let’s get away from the whole Buddhism thing for a while. It’s become too heavy, too intellectual. I month or so ago, in an entry titled Equanimity, I spoke about a professor in university who spoke of being in the moment. One of the criticisms she had for me was that I would over intellectualize things. So, taking her advice, I need to take a breather from all this deep thinking and just lets some words flow.

Yesterday, I was invited out for dinner. Due to some language restrictions, the invitation was to eat barbequed cow tits. Over dinner, I tried my best to explain the words boob, tits, teats, and udders. I have never had udder before and whilst suspending the visual image of the invite, I found it to be quite delicious. Also the heart was good. The barbequed tripe was a bit too chewy for me. Tourists are not exposed to real Laos cuisine which is a shame because it is much better than most of the cuisine they see.

While eating dinner, an army of ants came to greet me and sample some of my sauces and meats. I wondered why my dinner companion did not attract the multitude of ants that I did. Can ants tell who is a falang and who is Laotian? I wonder. They certainly do have quite a sense of humor those ants of Laos. In addition to the six or seven thousand ants crawling around my table space, a nursing dog (most female dogs in Laos are perpetually nursing), came and rested her nose on my lap – big puppy dog eyes seemed to say ‘I’m starving and I have a family to feed’. Everyone had a good time, but I think the dog was a little disappointed that I was not much of a pushover.

Sometime during the course of the dinner, my thoughts turned to my brother. I think about the prospect of my family members visiting me here. Of all my relatives, I think my brother and my father would be the most suited to experiencing the real Laos. I think my mother would not last more than an hour or two. There is a level of acceptance required to be here, yet once that leap is made, it seems somehow more real than the aisles of Wal-Mart and the form mold chairs of Burger King.

Beyond the ubiquity of ants are the giant spiders in my home, the silly geckos who play hide-and-seek in the curtains, the insane driving patterns of the locals, the open air everything – markets, restaurants, beer gardens, barbers, and so forth. There is the oppressive heat and humidity and the guarantee that no shirt will stay dry either by perspiration or torrential rain. Each thing on it’s own is not so bad. Compiled into the overall experience, it can be overwhelming. As I keep telling people, it is not for everyone. For some of us, it is a slice of euphoria – euphoria for me, the ants, the nursing dogs, the spiders, the geckos. Maybe the cows are not so ecstatic or maybe I’m wrong… maybe they are proud that their sacrifice brings such gastronomic delight. Thank you, cows. You’re delicious. If the shoe was on the other hoof, I would happily give you my heart.

The True Master

At last, we reach the final chapter of the Dhammapada. I have mixed emotions about this experience. Some of the stuff was good, some of it not so good. Overall, it was helpful to me to spend time contemplating each chapter. It was also a good structure for me to use as my morning calisthenics for writing, before turning to my larger writing projects. I hope at least one chapter resonated with you.

Like any good book, fiction or non-fiction, I have trouble reading the last chapter. There are books on my shelves (truthfully, they are in boxes in a storage unit), which have sat for years waiting for me to read the last few pages. Today is no different. I am tempted to leave any elocution on The True Master for some other day. However, I said I would do all 26 chapters and I don’t like to go back on my word – even if it’s only a promise to myself. So what should I say about The True Master.

Instead of taking a single quote from this chapter, I thought it would be interesting to take all the statements in the chapter with the word “is” and put them together. This is what it looks like:

“The man who is awake shines in the radiance of the spirit.”

“A master is never proud.”

“He is not afraid.”

“He is infinitely free.”

“He is never angry.”

“He is determined.”

“He is free.”

“He is serene.”

“He is calm.”

“He is pure and free.”

“ […] he is one.”

“Free” seems to be a recurring theme. We all want to be free. We want to live in the kingdom of heaven. Even the atheist who believes that after life, there is only decomposition, wants to be free. Freedom is beyond God. Freedom is beyond any one particular belief or sect. Freedom is something that is real and eternal and pure bliss. I don’t know a soul who does not want to be free.

Perhaps this rather unorthodox rehashing of the Dhammapada will help drive me towards freedom. Perhaps there was a sentence or phrase I wrote that will stick with you for a while and help you on your path. It’s hard to say what effect this will have on anyone, but I hope somehow it serves a purpose.

The Seeker

“There are five at the door
To turn away, and five more
And there are five to welcome in.

And when five have been left
Stranded on the shore,
The seeker is called oghatinnoti —
‘He who has crossed over.’”
- Dhammapada

Yesterday, I talked about numbers and their simultaneously important and irrelevant nature in the context of scriptures. In that post, I said, ‘It doesn’t matter how many of anything.’. Once again, here is proof that the more I learn, the less I know; the more I speak, the more often I am wrong. When I turned to the next chapter titled The Seeker, I came across the above quote. Thankfully, Thomas Byrom provided a footnote and itemized the fives.

“The first five are selfishness, doubt, false spirituality, passion, hatred. The second five are longing for birth both with a body, and without one, vanity, mental restlessness, ignorance. The third five are faith, vigilance, energy, meditation, wisdom. The five left behind are greed, hatred, delusion, pride, false teaching.”

I should talk more about these, but first, let’s finish today’s story.

As I settle in to the routine of domestic life in Vientiane, many challenges come my way. First, my vocabulary is incredibly limited and my pronunciation is abysmal – not many people can understand me, even if I speak “perfect” Lao. If not for a few friends and a general idea of where things might be, I would surely starve naked with a flat tire.

Yesterday, I told my friend I needed a frying pan. She agreed to take me shopping for one. I showed her my shopping list written in both English and Laos and sometimes illustrated. The list included things beyond the frying pan, such as candles (tian), insecticide (yaa kaa meeng mai), spatula (iek bpaak been), can opener (neow khai bia), WD-40 or some other lubricant (nam law luun – yeah, that one caused a ruckus at the market), and so on. I was glad my friend was going to help me find these things, after all, she’s a local and knows where to find the best deals – or so I would think.

To find a frying pan, she took me to a clothing store. I joked about using a pair of shoes to cook eggs. We did had fun in the clothing store, laughing at the bad styles and pointing out which ones where pleasing. I gave up the frying pan search, walked around the stores and then took her to work. After dropping her off, I raced to the market, through the thick monsoon rain hopeful I might still be able to acquire the elusive frying pan of Laos.

Here in Laos, I am a child. I am a neophyte monk who can only sit mute in the temple. I am an infant who barely understands the words gaa-gaa-goo-goo. I am the first time buyer paying higher than sticker price on a brand new automobile. However, today, I am proud to say that I am – if nothing else – a man with a frying pan.

I found my frying pan in the good market – the one I like behind Talat Sao (the Morning Market in Vientiane). Last night, I made a mushroom basil tomato sauce with rotini for dinner. It was possibly the worst sauce I’ve ever made. I relished every single bite of my first home cooked meal in nearly 3 months.

The frying pan, the supermarket, having some food to cook and eat, these are the basics. They are the daily practice. They are the diligence. They are faith that goodness will surround those who practice goodness. I don’t need to be able to say non-stick, microwavable, non-aluminum or durable. Nor I do not need to list the names of the five Buddhas. It would be nice if I could, I suppose, but my personal opinion is that I should focus first on the basics.

Despite years of training and reading and practice, I am still sorting out the details. It as if I am in a foreign country some times and I am reduced to charades in the market (you should see my impersonation of a can of insecticide!). I am learning. I am learning to see the bigger picture even though I can not name the five at the door. In time, maybe I will be able to name them or at least be able to tell you there are five and not four. Or maybe someday, I will be able to recite all paramis or tell you the characters of the Bhagavad-Gita in order of appearance. Yet for now, I will have to be content with daily meditation, a steadily improving mind, and a pleasant, patient attitude towards myself and others… at the supermarket... where they sell frying pans.

Desire

Didn’t I already talk about desire? Maybe I just thought about it! Well, I don’t feel like talking much about desire today, so I’ll focus on something else. If you really want to think about desire, the quote alone should be sufficient.

“Thirty-six streams are rushing toward you!
Desire and pleasure and lust…
Play in your imagination with them
And they will sweep you away.

Powerful streams!
They flow everywhere.”
- Dhammapada

As a professional in the computer science field, numbers are important to me. The specificity which numbers provide are tremendous. One misplaced zero can have a tremendous impact on meaning. I remember studying binary code back in my mainframe days and truly loving being able to sift through the sequence of zeros and ones to assemble what they represent. Later on, I maintained a healthy adoration for hex code – #FF0000 and #0000FF sound so much more elegant than plain old red and blue.

Given my appreciation for numbers, I have always struggled with the often very specific numbers cited in Buddhism. Why thirty-six streams? Why a thousand petals on the lotus? Why twenty layers? Why fifty petals per layer? Why thirty paramis… or is it ten (still working on that one!)?

Given my “free-spirit” nature, however, I don’t really care that much. Yes, I am inquisitive, but I often just translate numbers to one of the following: “a couple”, “some”, or “lots”. Sometimes I feel that delving too deeply into numbers like this is a blend of over-zealous dogma and missing the forest for the trees. Do you care, at this point, if the Sahasrara Chakra has one thousand or one thousand and one petals? If I could give you the choice of either lighting up the crown chakra or counting the petals, which would you choose? Hint: the petals of the lotus eventually fall off, the jewel in the lotus is eternal.

At this point, you may be wondering ‘what are you talking about?’ The pontification of numbers and their meaning seems to have nothing to do with desire (in numerology I think it’s 11), and this is exactly my point. Read today’s quote from the Dhammapada and notice the first word is a number. Too often, we will get caught up in this number and spend our time contemplating and arguing ‘thirty-six’ and never get to the real issue at hand: Powerful streams! They flow everywhere.

It doesn’t matter, really, how many streams. It doesn’t matter how many disciples. It doesn’t matter how many of anything. What does matter, is that we concentrate on getting ourselves down the road.

Think of it this way: Enlightenment is a big supermarket near your house. On a typical day, you can pull out of your driveway, head south on the main road and in 5 minutes, you have arrived at the supermarket. But on a non-typical day, there may be a traffic jam, or some construction blocking you easy path to shopping. This doesn’t mean that you can not go to the supermarket. It simply means you might have to take more than one road. You may have to drive 10 miles instead of six. You may have to put an extra litre of fuel in your tank. Consider which is more important, how many roads, miles, litres or arriving at the supermarket? In aisle 6, they are having a two-for-one special on spiritual achievement… or was it aisle 16?

The Elephant

The title of today’s chapter from the Dhammapada is “The Elephant”. I would be remiss to skim over the connection between elephants and Laos. The kingdom of Laos used to be called Lan Xang, which translates to ‘The land of one million elephants and a white parasol’. It’s a fierce image of power in nobility, wealth and military might. I think today’s equivalent to a million elephants would be one hundred thousand battleships. (By the way, Lan means one million, Xang must be a very rich word).

It many texts such as Bhagavadgita, Ramayana, the Dhammapada, various Jatakas, there are references to elephants. When I first started studying, I only partially understood the importance of the elephant in these ancient cultures. It was not until I started seeing elephants on a more regular basis that I fully comprehended what a magnificent animal this is. Beyond the imposing size of this beast, there is a look in their eyes of supreme intelligence. However, not all is well in the elephant kingdom.

In the northeast provinces of Thailand last year, I saw many elephants, but one elephant in particular disturbed me. The elephant was “working” for/with two guys – one riding, the other selling bananas to the tourists to give to the elephant. On the tail of the elephant were tied CD’s to serve as reflectors. I remember clearly the look in this elephant’s eyes – I don’t think I will ever forget that look. It was a look of humility, indignity, and a threat of one day reaching a saturation point and exploding. I looked away, partly to not instigate anything, but mostly to turn away from a scene of utter humiliation – the noblest of all creatures, selling bananas.

“Awake.
Be the witness of your thoughts.
The elephant hauls himself from the mud.
In the same way drag yourself out of your sloth.”
- Dhammapada

Sadly, many elephants today are not free to pull themselves from the mud. They are trapped and imprisoned to do parlour tricks, or they are killed and mutilated for their tusks. However, in their captivity or in their perverted ‘natural’ environment, they manage to maintain some of their inherent dignity. To personify the elephant’s plight, I think it must be a quiet form of meditation for the modern day elephant to live such lives – quietly persistent at maintaining the nobility of their nature despite their conditions.

Many of us – people, that is – may feel that our lives are not much different than a banana-selling elephant. We know that inside us is goodness and truth, but our circumstances seem to be obstacles to fully realizing our blessedness. We have reflectors tied to our tails so a vehicle one third our size does not ram into us. We are constantly under the threat of a smack with a bamboo switch to turn this way or that. We are ridden and told where to go and wait for others to tell us when to eat. We are up to our loins in mud.

Just like the elephant, we are deep in the mud, but just like the elephant, we have the potential to haul ourselves out. It is not enough to merely acknowledge our own beautiful greatness, we must do. As Eleanore Roosevelt said, ‘You must do the thing which you think you can not do.’ We must do this, lest, like the elephant, we may one day lash out against our captors and our humiliation or perish without ever realizing our true nature.

A note about elephants: In the New York Times Sunday Magazine, Oct-20-2006, there was an excellent article titled An Elephant Crackup?. The article speaks of the trauma caused by modern-day activities on elephants and their environment. It is a very informative article and well worth reading.

The Dark

To some degree, everyone is afraid of the dark. Sometimes, it’s not a very strong feeling. Sometimes, it’s just a gnawing thought in the back of our minds that maybe we don’t know everything that’s going on around us. When we do not have all the facts, we can feel unsure of ourselves. That’s why people are afraid of the dark.

“One man denies truth,
Another denies his own actions.
Both go into the dark
And in the next world suffer
For they offend truth.”
Dhammapada

The dark, which we fear, is not only a matter of not being able to see. There is also a mental darkness; a state of not knowing, or understanding. The void in our understanding is not always because the facts are not available. At times, we overlook the facts or conceal them and create our own darkness. For so many reasons people do this, but I think mostly it is out of laziness.

It takes work to shine a light on ourselves, on our thoughts, our actions. Not only does it take effort to shine the light, but once we can see what is around us or who we are, we now have to reckon with that reality. One would think it would be easier, just to keep everything in the dark. Such is not the case.

When we hide in ignorance of what we think and say and do, we create a lot of work for ourselves. Many people know this about lying; once you lie, you have to keep track of that lie and make sure you don’t contradict it. Usually, lies end up being exposed because sooner or later, the liar becomes even lazier and forgets to maintain the fallacy. Darkness gets a little darker and the liar stubs his toe on the bedpost. Ouch. Suffering.

Inside our mind, we can hide our thoughts fairly easily. Outside our mind, in our actions, it is much more difficult to hide. But we try anyway. I’ve met people who completely deny their actions. They act in one way towards a person, but then are surprised when that person responds in an appropriate manner. The dis-illumination of ones own actions in their own head, is a rewriting of history to a version which is not truthful. It’s a difficult thing when someone denies their own actions. It’s frightening. The Dark.