I am trapped in the ego, blind to the awareness of the true self, and caught up in every desire of the body and mind that the world has to offer. The tranquility and peace of the Tao is supplanted by the raging flood of passion and emotion and I am powerless to control the tiny ship of my spirituality as it is tossed on to the boulders of conflict by the waves of my own choosing. The reason I am not a Zen master, is because I know I am not.
How shall I call myself a teacher when I cannot follow my own teaching? How do I become the Taoist equivalent of Saul of Tarsus, "king of all sinners"? How can I expect others to quell their thoughts and emotions when I myself burn? How can I teach a way of peace when anger strangles my heart?
The Tao is infinite mysterious and all encompassing. In my peace and my conflict both I am true to my nature and from my failures grow new and sometimes profound teachings. Like the moon which is a reflection of the sun's light, I am but a reflection, a ghost seen through a smoky mirror, of my true self. Calm returns, the window opens and the carress of the Tao fills my senses.
I am reminded that we are not judged nor are we condemned, we only are. In this moment, we exist, in the next moment we do not. Both of these moments are in and of the Tao.
Will the transition that is death cause me pain? I do not know. Will I awake to a new lifetime, or to non-existence, and if to nothing, have I returned home to the Tao?
I have waited a hundred lifetimes to hear a whispered "I love you" from a hundred lifetimes ago when the words were the truth. I have waited for lifetimes to fall asleep peacefully in the arms of the one who whispered the words secure in peace and in love.
I meditate, I am empty. I breathe in and out but there is no motion, only the silence.