Now IT is always here. The shine and peace, permeating everything, invisible and yet undeniably present structure to everything, suffused with something that doesn’t really have an accurate description in our language and can only be remotely conveyed by the word “Love”.
But it is not a human love, it is deeper, more pure, it has nothing to do with being good, with notions of kindness or happiness. It is ever-present, primaeval, detached from any silly demands of the human mind and all ideas of this world. Like a source of crystalline light, the clearest and coolest mountain spring, so pure and somehow present in everything, even dark and dirty, and never even remotely being able to be tarnished by any dirtiness or darkness.
I wake up into it every morning, from blissful nothingness into a peace-infused blissful something-ness. I walk the streets of hot dusty Chiang Mai, with its crazy traffic, noise and exhaust fumes from thousands of motorbikes, tuk-tuks, clunky pickup trucks, with its ever-present vendors on every corner… The air is thick with smells of ripe mangos, fried chicken, countless tropical flowers and sewage.
Tacky billboards, building facades, fences – everything cracking and peeling under the relentless sun; everything slightly dirty, slightly run-down and yet, so full of marvellous texture, so colourful – happy, boisterous, chicky fullness of forms in existence. I enjoy feeling their texture, their expression, their thirst for life, their emotions, hopes and fears.
It is all fine now, just as it is. Marvellous, so diverse, so rich, like a canvas filled up with layers upon layers of colours and textures.
Underneath it all, there is this amazing structure that I feel, like an interwoven tapestry, vibrating, transmitting, talking to itself in a mysterious language, of which I only can grasp single words. This mind is just too primitive to understand it fully, but this is fine. I knew it before; somehow, the other part of the endless expanse of me still speaks it. But this one, limited by form and mind doesn’t. Oh, well. Not knowing is also fine. Not knowing its plans and goals somehow doesn’t matter anymore.
Nothing more is needed. Living alone is fine, being seen as a slightly eccentric, always grinning for no reason “farang madame” is fine. Not having anything to do is fine. Having something to do is fine. Not having any future plans is fine, watching this body ageing and putting on weight is fine. Being silent is fine and feels very good, stringing words for no apparent reason and watching what happens is fine as well, and actually fun, it is like just watching that very texture and colourfulness of form emerging.
Existing is fine. Not existing is just as fine.