In a state of non-doership, I find myself clinging to the post of past memories, hoping to make them real again. Yet in my heart of hearts, I know they will never bloom the way they once did.
The people in those memories have changed and grown older. Some have even passed away. I too have changed. I too have aged. Nothing will ever be the same again.
The river keeps flowing. The water never rests. As the saying goes, you cannot step into the same river twice. By the second step, the river has already changed.
This is the tragicomedy of life.
Out of a great nothingness we arose. We were once no one—nobodies without name or form. Then we began seeking other nobodies, believing we were somebodies. Yet in truth, everyone is a nobody.
This idea of “somebodyness” is the root of all misery. Become a nobody, and all misery ceases.
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