This is dedicated to all those who saw me grow up. I am here for all of you today, :rockon:
Coming back here to NewBuddhist today, I have decided to read through my threads, my PMs, my life as I have been living through in the eyes of NewBuddhists these few years.
I read through again the crises I have once posted not so long ago. It already seemed like a new life for me now. It is like a rebirth, a thousand years apart from those days, even though that was just less than two years in the same body past.
This. The place that marked my change.
It brings me liberation, to read of the teen who once was lost.
Of joy, for he who is now living for the search.
Of tears, for he who won the struggle.
I am but still a human, with my fair share of daily problems in this world we have all come to. Yet something is different. What is?
I am now happier, freer and unlimited. I am confined still to the world of forms and feelings but I in here have been as if reborn - it did not occur just now, neither did it happen in the years gone by. That, it is a process that continues ever. I have not realised as much of this joy I feel thus now, before I have read the words I have had once penned in my life, in this place that watched me grow.
Life's problems will always continue - but as long as I have won them all, I have won them all. I live for the experience now. How possible could it have been, for he who lived by such hard-coded beliefs, in just less than a year ago? The negativity he walked with, now replaced with the passive love for the world.
For he who once lived, cradled by the arms of the Buddha, but always cried for the dust that got into his eyes. Now he has learnt to walk unsteadily - ever returning to the warm embracement of the Buddha, but yes, he has learnt to walk still. With his feet he brings about the dust of the world, and he realises that they cling onto his feet wherever he may walk. It is no longer in the days where he would complain about the air of dust he would breathe, but he has come to an understanding that he has to pick up the broom and sweep the floor - for himself and others.
Ah - it is like a rebirth. Realised it hadn't I so before. The dust that clings onto my feet - what is it? It shall have to go as I will have to go away one day.
They may find my sweeping of the dust as foolish - more will come in its place as the wind blows. They may find my sweeping of the dust as naive - it is not for me to do. But all things change. Sweep or not sweep, of course the dust will rise again. Sweep or not sweep, of course the wind will always blow in the direction of my sweep. Yet if sweep I do not, am I to break down and weep? Or am I to push my job to the charge of others, and wait for them to deliver me a clear sun?
I have a good part of my life left to walk. Yes, only a few years have passed from all that times I remind myself. I am still a youth.
There is a love that remains for my past. It is the love of the ghost of myself. It is the tribute I pay to he who did not give up in those times. It is also the same tribute I pay to those whom he had seen as friends, foes and also the random passerbys. Who I am today, my reborn self, stems from he who died in the past.
I am like a bud of his flower. He has died and will never live again - but it is his ghost I carry with me.
For she who I disappointed continually, I express my appreciation for those moments I once lived for. They were all engulfed in fear, paranoia and obsession - and to say that I once was with you would be unfair to you - but that is what I have since told to the world. Strange, to me it seems now, when of today I look around those I consider similar to my mind, that they have all had a real relationship once before they killed their own ghost to become themselves of today I now respect. Strange, to me it seems now, when of such I have been reborn, when you were right all the while to say that we have never been in one. What a mystery, what a thrill. What a memory, what a ghost. Thank you for giving my ghost his reason for suicide. In him you are always preserved as a legacy. May he carry you till the end, till all that must change have changed. There is little of you left in me - except for the love I extend to you from the love of my own ghost.
For my friend Argon, the enemy, the friend, the enemy, the brother. Such was the courage you had to kill your own ghost before me, that inspired me to do the same. Such was the mockery of change before us both, that now leads us into brotherhood. :thumbsup: It seemed like it had taken a fool to have had followed my ghost, to have encouraged and accompanied - but of today I realise you were the smart one all along. My life is a display to those who run it - be it God, the Tao, or even myself. I work hard at living my life to the fullest, stretching my mind to the limit. I attempt my salvation with the sacrifice of my search for the meaning. That, it all died with the ghost, because of now I truly live for the search. Your life and mine have intersected many times - Ha! What a script for those who run the show! In this spirit we live, by our lives we gurantee. You are my brother. I hope you will have your relationship now last. In freedom we must continue to live, never should we be possessed again by our ghosts. :rockon:
To all of you NewBuddhists whom I used to promise so many and broke even more. Countless times have I told you all that I shall hold steadfast to my Buddhist values and foever had my ghost broke them. He was delusioned, destroyed by the waves of change that he had not learnt to break. His own philosophy in the past even he had betrayed, such disgrace he had lived his life by. Such an insult to himself, such a shame to all of us. Lost ramblings, disguised as dharma insights - of what love he had dared speak of? Thank you for helping him all those while - I am, for he is. :thumbsup:
To all my other friends, foes and the neutral people he had known. Influenced his life have you all somehow or other. You appeared, you left, you watered the flower. Hate, anger, happiness, sadness, all of it - all that composed his ghost when he was forming out of the soil. He hated you all. He liked you all. He shouted at you all. He joined you all for lunch. Sometimes the boundaries of friendships and enmity seemed to cross, other times it was divorced so much that he longed for them to merge. All things are interdependent. Thank you for all of the time. :rockon:
This is to those who never gave up, and also to those who have not yet met their time of change, but shall not give up when it comes.
This is for he who won the struggle.