The Transparent Self

Multi-Coloured Transparent Self
Multi-Coloured Transparent Self

This little group of glass objects has been collecting on my windowsill over the past weeks. When I sit in my chair for a moment of repose I take the opportunity to run an appreciative eye over them. Now and then glancing out at the sky and clouds. (Or the rain running down the window pane!) Depending.

They are as massed humanity. A vision of difference and sameness. Clothed only in colour. Transparent, nothing hidden. And that is how we are, at least how we are to those outside of ourselves. If one looks, with care, difference is just that. Difference.  Particular,  beautiful.  As I sit I find my eye falling on a particular piece and staying there running my eyes around and though it. The blue is a favourite, the purple is new and pleasantly knobbly. The pale green tinted dish gets my attention, wide open and receptive. I’m tempted to put a stray bead or button in it but I’ll not. They all are empty. They will stay that way.

Thus can the mass of humanity, the press of people, be known. Living reflectively has us transparent unto ourselves. Formal meditation cannot have us knowing our selves as anything other than transparent. Brilliant, lovely, lovable.

Such Sweet-Sadness

1Wabi Sabi
What IS it about peeling paint? Decay? A moment caught in the flow of time. There is the Wabi-sabi Japanese esthetic which, I’ve discovered, has a basic Buddhist teaching at it’s roots. Namely the Three Signs of Existence: impermanence (anicca), suffering (dukkha), and non-self (anattā). (Sometimes referred to as the Three marks of existence.) However that’s all very well and good, and one can get caught up in thinking about and analyzing why peeling paint and the like is so…..’beautiful’, but why the attraction? Why, for example, is the wrinkled face of an elderly person so ‘can’t keep my eyes off’ alluring?

1Garden Station LangleyThis is the The Garden Station, Langley where last Sunday we had tea and scones: that’s after a walk along the old railway line, a sandwich in the lee of a stone wall (the wind was almost gale force), and a pleasant return along a wide and sheltered path through the woods. The station cafe is a delight, the conversation was stimulating and the scones home-made.

1Walkin and TalkinMy Sunday walking companions. What a pleasure to move across the earth, together.

1the way aheadThe conversation that emerged while we had our tea and scone (and jam) has had me contemplating this question of peeling paint! Or rather the underlying question of consciousness and Being – of self nature.  Could it possibly be I’ve a blogging theme lurking here to explore? I certain hope so. For, when day after day I am simply not moved to write here, I find myself bereft. Ah! Perhaps it (the lurking theme) is the sweet-sadness of the passage of time, layer upon layer, showing the flow of….what is that? Being?