A mystery plainly explained. There is no mystery.
Originally posted on Essays in Idleness:
Recently I’ve been avidly reading a Buddhist book sent to me by a certain reader last year (thank you Ashin S.) titled How to Live Without Fear And Worry by the late Ven. K Sri. Dhammananda. In particular, I found an interesting passage on page 121:
The mystery of birth and death is very simple. The coming together of mind and matter – also known as the five aggregates – is called birth. The dissolution of these aggregates is called death. And the recombination of these aggregates is called rebirth, and so that cycle will go on repeatedly until such time as we attain the blissful state of Nibbana [Nirvana]
This is a very concise, articulate explanation to something that I feel is often very confusing to people who are curious or new to Buddhism. When I used to surf Internet Buddhist forums, I used to see the same questions…
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September 14, 2012
Found as posted by Paul Lynch on Google+, a post from a Blogspot blog: http://chanpoetry.blogspot.ca/2012/09/growing-up-and-so-is-love.html
October 3, 2011
September 23, 2011
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May 26, 2010
“If the warrior does not feel alone and sad, then he or she can be corrupted very easily. In fact, such a person may not be a warrior at all. To be a good warrior, one has to feel sad and lonely, but rich and resourceful at the same time. This makes the warrior sensitive to every aspect of phenomena: to sights, smells,… sounds, and feelings. In that sense, the warrior is also an artist, appreciating whatever goes on in the world. Everything is extremely vivid. The rustling of your armor or the sound of rain drops falling on your coat is very loud. The fluttering of occasional butterflies around you is almost an insult, because you are so sensitive.” –
Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche via Rev. Danny Fisher
July 30, 2009
Sitting tonight watching a hazy cottonball of a moon. It sits up there in a dusk clear sky with no clouds. Or so it seems.
It’s hazy because it’s shining through a very moist damp sky, a watery filter we can’t see.
Then occasionally a dusky blue cloud the very same colour as the sky passes in front of it and the moon goes dark, hidden by a cloud that can’t be seen.
Then it’s revealed again as that indistinguishable thought passes.