The Thirty-Seven Practices of a Bodhisattva: Verse 4

Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash

You will separate from long-time friends and relatives,

You will leave behind the wealth you worked to build up,

The guest, your consciousness, will move from the inn, your body,

Give up your life — this is the practice of a bodhisattva.

You know you’ll die, everyone does — though you don’t know when, where or how. Nothing — absolutely nothing — is permanent. Hearing this, you nod in agreement, no news here. Some may puff out a bit, the tough guy, believing he accepted his own mortality years ago.

It’s one thing to know something, quite another to know it down to your bones. Something you’ve never experienced may be more than a little difficult to really know.

Everything is impermanent. If you think about it, you’ll accept it, no problem. So why is it so hard to accept death — the death of your mother or father, the death of your partner, your children, your own death? Experiencing the death of loved ones is grippingly painful — so are those deaths you endure while still living; the loss of your marriage, the loss of your job, your status, your beauty, your health.

What about the law of conservation of matter?

Everything is impermanent yet matter is always conserved. Isn’t matter a thing?

You leave everything when you die — most important, you leave the people you love — but some aren’t so sure when it comes to consciousness. And what about social reality? When tyrants die, does tyranny subside?

You’re working hard, chasing money and fame, doing your best to create something daily.

It doesn’t make sense to keep it up. But don’t just lay down and watch YouTube.

Better to give your brief time to others.

This post was created with Typeshare



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