resilient

The other night I dreamt I was starting a new job in a remote town. I arrived to a magnificent village nestled in the gargantuan, abstract beauty of a dream world’s wilderness — gigantic, jagged mountain peaks; a lake the size of an ocean; trees wide enough to build single-family homes inside.

I arrived knowing no one, knowing nothing of the place.

After a harrowing journey across the lake, I stood on the other side, looked out at the wild evergreen beauty before me, and fell into a trance of awe. I felt the power of place — how the land itself holds meaning that infuses through the cells of the life that walks upon it.

A man I could only describe as an elder appeared behind me. He approached calmly and told me to sit down. A breath; a ritual. He pushed hard on a point near my left shoulder and held firm pressure as he prayed in a language I didn’t understand. My vision began to shake.

I began to see how much I wanted to bring the essence of this place with me. More importantly, how my desire to take it with me was blocking my ability to fully absorb and embody whatever it is I was there to learn.

Desire clouds even the most noble intentions. Desire clouds judgment. Those clouds thicken even more when desire is wrapped up in kindness, compassion, or a sense of morality.

The Buddha likened desire to placing a colored dye in a clear bowl of water. When taken by desire, everything in our awareness takes on a particular hue. We aren’t able to see the world clearly; we see a world colored by the lens of desire.