You know, I just spent two hours writing the rest of the fictional Honeyball sutta, and, at the end of it, I had my doubts that it was ready to go out into the world.
So, I ran it past Joyce, and at the end of that conversation, I decided to wait a few days, and to revise it in the meantime. And maybe I’ll look for some help from Kent and Melissa. Besides, as Joyce pointed out (and I had forgotten): it’s New Year’s Eve. That may not be the best time for this intricate matter.
The fiction, by the way, is based on my translation of the The Honeyball Sutta (Madhupindika Sutta), which is #18 of the Majjhima Nikaya (that is, MN18). I will post the final version of my sutta, later. It’s a profound sutta about the freedom of voidness. I love it.
∞
So, hoping that you will take care of yourself and others on New Year’s Eve, and have an relaxing, enjoyable New Year’s Day. I am using the occasion to refresh my healthily living habits. (I’ve definitely slacked off diet-wise, since the cancer operation last year.) And, I’m dubbing 2016 my ‘Year of Living Simply,’ in as many respects as possible.
I don’t sound, right now, like someone who, for the sake of deepening into life, is still exploring my hypothetical last few months to live, do I? Of course, that’s still going on. And, if I knew I were dying in a few months, would I still do that thing about ‘simplifying’? Hmmm… I’ll ponder that tomorrow, and if the answer is not ‘Yes,’ then I might drop it.
Me, tomorrow night? I confess that I don’t normally do New Year’s Eve, other than using it to renew my vows. It’s good for that. So, here’s raising my bowl of muesli to another deep, calm and peaceful and normal night.
∞
On another note, it struck me powerfully, this morning – because I’m presently talking with someone about the interface of modern psychology and Buddhism – that it must appear really, really far-fetched, this claim we are making, that there is a species-wide delusion going on.
I thought for a moment that maybe I am just eccentric, weird, or obsessive, arguing that the species needs to notice that certain aspects of its cognitive functioning need urgent attention.
I remembered the response of a psychology lecturer nearly twenty years back. He thought I was plain wrong; because, after all, look at all the fantastic artistic and technological achievements.
And, Sir, what of the heart? Have we developed so much, really, in the art of loving? In the art of listening? In respecting those who are different to our mob? In the arts of peace. When we’re all making art, not war, then I’ll see it as he sees it. There’s my vow.
Given that the rest of the folks in this band of outsiders and eccentrics are really lovely, I celebrate their company for the remainder of my days. But, it really is a strange and ironic process, isn’t it, that the evolutionary gift of of our frontal lobes should be our greatest weakness? Right?