I think I am still grieving. Makes me behave in odd ways at times. My moods go up and down like a yo-yo.
Every so often I remember, and realise he is not here anymore.
I miss Dad, but I am not depressed. Don't get me wrong. I know my posts can be a bit raw at times. That's just the way I am, I have a bit of a chaotic personality. But I am fine. I know how to care for myself, and the dhamma is my refuge and strength. I have been practising Buddhism for a number of years now, since the start of the pandemic. The Buddha is also with me, and so are the sangha. I am perfectly alright, well-protected and safe. So please don't anyone worry about me, although I have appreciated the many messages of concern. It is nice to feel loved.
I know it is all impermanent, and there's dependent origination, and that craving is the cause of suffering. And I understand the things we are most attached to are the things that cause us to suffer the most. Yet still I am human and the loss of one's parents is a seismic event.
The mind is complex. And I do not feel ashamed for grieving nor do I think that it is wrong to do so. I am not resisting the process, not suppressing anything, just letting it happen, out of kindness to myself.
I realise I have known Dad my whole life, right since the beginning, I probably heard his voice whilst I was a foetus growing in the womb. Our parents have a huge impact on us; and so I think there are all these different parts of this mind rising up to grieve his loss and pay homage to him, each in their own way.
I have been told grief can last for years. I heard a monk say when he lost his Mum it took him five years to feel like he had got back to normal.
But this is the thing, I am not depressed, I am fine. I am just letting things arise and cease in their own time, letting it all be without clinging to it.
I find writing cathartic, and I know my Dad used to like to read my blog posts sometimes. And I know I could just be all private and keep myself to myself, but maybe what I write might help others out there going through something similar. I don't know.
Edited by Richie Cuthbertson, Sunday, 7 May 2023, 15:13
The world, our attachments, our needs and desires, our pain and resentments come from the self. To get caught up in the things of the world is to get caught up in the delusion of self. All our problems come from this. It is the origin of suffering.
Pain and pleasure, success and failure, gain and loss, praise and blame. These are the eight worldly winds that can never bring happiness, because they change, sometimes quite suddenly. They bring doubt, uncertainty, confusion and instability. They are treacherous, and hard to navigate. They will betray you. The winds will blow in one direction only to suddenly change and blow in the other direction. One cannot find stability, certainty or any lasting peace and happiness if one relies on the worldly winds.
At their source is the conceit I am.
The ignorance, I am this. I am that. I want this. I don't want that. I want to become this. I do not want to become that. I want this to exist. But I do not want that to exist. I want things to be this way, but not that way.
This 'I' is the problem.
It is oneself that is the root of suffering. The craving, the greed, hate, and delusion spring from the self. They take root and grow in it.
What is true renunciation?
It is not so much renunciation of the outer world, although this can make the work of freeing the mind much easier. To be homeless, or a monastic, to live simply, this frees one from the burdens of the household life so one can focus wholeheartedly on the work of liberating the mind.
But true renunciation comes from the heart. It is the inner world bound up in the delusion of self that must be renounced, this is what leads to the end of suffering. Renunciation of the self.
When the self is fully seen through, then so is the world. All the problems in the world have at their root the conceit I am. When the truth of self is fully revealed, fully understood. All things become known then, nothing is hidden. One stops clinging, identifying, judging. Doesn't take things personally. Resentments and longing subside. The truth sets one free. The fetters fall away. The story of self ceases. The involuntary movements of the mind stop. And what is left is peace.
The worldly winds may blow then, but one is unshaken, unperturbed by them. Like the story of the three pigs and the wolf. As much as Mara may huff and puff and try to blow your house down, it does not fall. Unwholesome desires should they arise, will instantly cease. For there is nowhere left in the mind for them to take root. The soil of the ego is not there any more.
One becomes a tathagatha then 'thus gone' no longer to be found anywhere, in any of the worlds.
Gone beyond it all, freed, unbound, no longer a subject of Mara. And wherever Mara looks he will not be able to locate the consciousness of one who has seen through the conceit I am.
Edited by Richie Cuthbertson, Wednesday, 15 Dec 2021, 15:04
I stare blankly at the mess in my room, Stare empty at the sky outside, At the failed paintings on my wall, And at nothing in particular. I stare forlornly at this computer screen. Wishing I hadn't said what I said to you, Wish I could turn back time and stop myself; but alas I do not have that power, noone does. So I live now with regret and an aching heart, A sad unhappy mind, And another lost friend. I miss you.
Edited by Richie Cuthbertson, Tuesday, 30 Nov 2021, 22:01
Tired. And caught up in the things of the world. Hands up, it was me. I lost my equanimity. But feel closer now, closer to the other shore, Knock knock knocking on heaven's door. Everything is insubstantial, empty, just like you and me. always changing, rearranging. Phasing.
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