Whisphers in the stones
After two months and a volcano's wrath has subsided I finally find the time to write about Borobudur. Beautiful Borobudur. A celebratory trip for me and my good friend Vince as he ventures into his fourth decade. A corner I will meet soon enough as well. And I'm sure, when I need him, he will come to take me away to marvel at yet another temple in our on-going adventures of raiding ancient monuments in search of comfort to our plain existence.
The trip was quite fitting as personally, I feel as if my time in this plane merits a kismet with the past in order to venture fearless into the future. My life thus far is like a story set in stone. Carefully carved out from years of many happy moments, creating a solid, defined image in my mind of who I think I am. Yet at times, hardened by the elements that make it mossy and discolored, of walls getting higher and higher to shield my self from destruction.
The trip was quite fitting as personally, I feel as if my time in this plane merits a kismet with the past in order to venture fearless into the future. My life thus far is like a story set in stone. Carefully carved out from years of many happy moments, creating a solid, defined image in my mind of who I think I am. Yet at times, hardened by the elements that make it mossy and discolored, of walls getting higher and higher to shield my self from destruction.
I cherish the thought of those warm gray stones in midday as they brushed up against the callouses on my hands, for then, I also touch all past devotees who came and awed at the temple, now their spirits residing in them. Even after all this time I hear them echoing gentle encouragements for me to take the next steps of my own personal pilgrimage to finding what Buddha set out to do... by understanding suffering, by constant searching, reflection and abstinence. To cope with our daily problems by seeking enlightenment in the simplest place... within our own selves.
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