I've been sick for the last week. No fever. Just lungs full of phlegm and the feeling that there's a cinder block on my chest. You can surely bet that any cold I manage to catch will readily convert to pneumonia. I guess that the point that I am trying to make here is that the above quote is meant to apply to me.
I have known some level of pain and illness and disability for much of the last twenty plus years. I have known pain as a teacher and as a friend. It taught me well; and compassionately. There comes a moment in time when the student is able to share from that of which he has learned. There is wisdom, and experience; self knowledge and a deep compassion because of it.
I am becoming more aware of how little I have to offer. I am empty.
In the story of
Kwai Chang Caine his life's direction was abruptly altered in a moment of anger and revenge. It is incredulous to me how so much work and concentration and transcendence can be lost in a moment.
I too experienced that moment. The last decade has shown highs and lows but little of my emptiness. But I know. And I know why.
I think that the teacher is reminding me that he has never really been gone too far from me. I must return to him before he decides to return to me.
I don't think that I could bear that lesson again.
