The Illusion of Magicians.

Buddha said: "I consider the positions of kings and rulers as that of dust motes. I observe treasures of gold and gems as so many bricks and pebbles. I look upon the finest silken robes as tattered rags. I see myriad worlds of the universe as small seeds of fruit, and the greatest lake in India as a drop of oil on my foot. I perceive the teachings of the world to be the illusion of magicians. I discern the highest conception of emancipation as a golden brocade in a dream, and view the holy path of the illuminated ones as flowers appearing in one's eyes. I see meditation as a pillar of a mountain, Nirvana as a nightmare of daytime. I look upon the judgment of right and wrong as the serpentine dance of a dragon, and the rise and fall of beliefs as but traces left by the four seasons."

Not having access to my hands is making me so sad.  I feel like crying, but for no clear reason.  I'm usually all dizzy and zone-y but I'm too busy being ecstatic over whatever I'm making to care too much.  Now all that's left is the dizzy-sleepy-zoney and I feel so useless.  I'm not even really sure why I feel so sad.  Is it really the lack of making? Don't know what else it could be.  But it feels like a sadness from nowhere- isn't that strange?

1 comment:

Little Brown Sparrow said...

It's not strange, m'baby- it's depression! What a joyful state it is. But Good God damn that's a perdy ring.