i get this insight when i am making sweet rice. by the way, this dish of rice and milk brings to mind the scene where siddhartha is under the bodhi tree and realizes the truth. along comes sujata, a woman. she offers him rice and milk. he takes it. now is it because he realizes that torturing and depriving the body doesn't bring him closer to the truth? or he recognizes that he needs a body of strength in order to teach the truth to many? i don't care. all that matters is lord buddha as we know it, the teacher, is born. with this memory i just fall in love with this dish. milk. rice. just the sounds carry the vibe of calm and nourishment. besides it is super yum. more than yum. it is light and satisfying, a one pot meal for the season. i can see myself eating it breakfast, lunch and supper. so there i am stirring basmati rice in a little ghee, plenty of freshly ground cardamom and some milk. whole, not low fat or no fat. according to ayurveda, i need lubrication, meaning oil, to balance the dry heat of the season. besides, serious meditators do need a little bit of fat everyday. the key word here is 'little bit' and it has to be quality oil. ghee is the best. i think i am way off track here. where am i going? o, that's right, i have an insight. the thing is i have been chewing on something my editor says, now it reads like two separate books, one in the immortals world, one in the human world, you've got to make it one book. gee. what does that mean? i thought i worked so hard to bring the two together. meanwhile time goes by. cut to the learned brahmin. he says to me, what you say, don't change, the style, change. by the way i really resonate with his english. we hong kong chinese speak english kind of like that. especially cantonese chinese. which i am.
i digress. hmmm, yes, style. now this is really fascinating. the recurring thought that has been haunting me is this. what's wrong with my style? i don't get it. not yet. until this morning. i am meditating away. the breath is flowing in deep and long, refined like a lotus stalk. i watch thought waves ebb and flow. suddenly and quietly this appears. one is lyrical and sublime, the other is down-to-earth and funny. i have to confess. the urge to go with this and pile on more thoughts is huge. i barely manage to jot the key words down when another insight comes. there's nothing wrong with your style. now, isn't it something that the mind would default to the habitual tendency that something is wrong with me. something is wrong with my style. nothing's wrong with my style. but i do have to work the 'voice' to a certain way so it can be sublime, lyrical, down-to-earth and funny, all of those.
gee, i can already hear the thought shooting straight out of the state of poverty consciousness. this is so difficult.
to be continued.