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How to Write the Truth by James L. Secor Maya is the belief that everything you see in this world, everything you believe is real, is illusion, is a product of your failed interpretation and, therefore, self-delusion. This is samsara. The continuing round of suffering that is your lot in life if you don't recognize Maya for what it is. This is the Wheel of Fortune.
There is no escaping Maya, that is, there is no learning, if you continue doing what it is you're doing, that is, repeating the same old same old. That's a nice metaphor-now- cliché specifically chosen because it does what it says. It would seem to follow, then, that if the state of the art is not in fine shape, continuing to do the art that got itself in the state it's in the way it's always been done will continue the not so fine shape of the art. This is insufferable, a kind of severe samsara. And it is delusional. Therefore, it is Maya. Words are wonderful things: they give much more meaning in combination with other words than they do individually. Words are alive and things that are alive are never still, they always change. Maya is also the name of Siddhartha Buddha's mother. This Maya had a prophetic dream: that her son either would be a great king or a great holy man. A bit extremist perhaps but, in reality, meaningless. But Maya, his mother, did not think so. She died and her place was taken by her younger sister Prajapati, which means creativity, with the further connotation of birth, growth, decline and death. Birth, growth, decline and death come as a consequence of life-giving. Prajapati also means parent. So, it is probably a safe metaphorical bet that Prajapati is another name for Maya. Now, according to the concept of Maya, your belief in your being a separate entity is unreal. That is, as long as you believe you are different from the rest of creation, of nature, and strive after your own (selfish) ends, you suffer from illusion--you might even say, delusion. Mothers traditionally give you this because they give you life. This illusion and its associated suffering is the circle (wheel) of life. It is bequeathed to you by your mother. It is repetitive. It is the same old same old. Therefore, it stands to reason that escaping mother, escaping Maya, will lead to learning something new. Maya is also the name of the Guardian of the Land of the Dead (Hell). Hell is a place of eternal suffering. Now, Siddhartha also had a father. His name was Siddhodhana and he was a king. Fathers like to have their sons follow in their footsteps; a king is no different. Siddhodhana also had an oracle prophecy concerning his son: he would become a universal monarch. Which is just what Siddhodhana could wish for. A self-fulfilling prophecy? Perhaps so. With his blinkered eyes, Siddhodhana interpreted "monarch" in his personal concrete way, just as Iocasta interpreted her oracle concerning her son in her blinkered concrete way. But words have many meanings, especially if they are metaphors, and therefore lead a kind of quantum reality; that is, they are pregnant with possibility. Siddhodhana also means greed and hording, which would fit with the prophecy, for the prophecy had a condition: the boy was to be kept from seeing an old man, a sick man, a corpse or a monk or else he'd become a great sage. So, Siddhodhana's vision is pretty much the same as Maya's. Siddhartha, the name they gave their son, means "he who has accomplished his goals." An enigmatic name, for neither Siddhodhana nor Maya knew his (Siddhartha's) goals, only their own, which they laid on him. That is, his parents assumed their son would (simply) follow in their footsteps. After all, tradition counts for something, right? Do you see how these metaphors are dove-tailing? An assumption is a kind of delusion: it is the illusion that something is true or real when it, in reality, may not be but you act on it as if it were. In order to insure his dream (an illusion), Siddhodhana took it upon himself to shield Siddhartha from seeing old men, sick men, corpses or monks. That is, Siddhodhana kept Siddhartha from life. He only knew what he knew, which included no old men, no sickness, no monks and no corpses. Siddhartha had a proscribed life, a proscribed truth. What would happen to Siddhartha after Siddhodhana and Prajapati-Maya died? Who or what would continue to keep him bound? Because his life was proscribed for him, Siddhartha had no individuality. He was just a thing being told what to do: someone else's idea (illusion) of life. Doing what ma and ba say is accepted tradition, it is continuing the same old same old; doing what you're told is comfortable, too. But it is Maya, an illusion. In order to gain any knowledge (learn), you must escape illusion. Escape Maya. Escape the same old same old. Escape the ones who are teaching you the proper way to do things. Siddhartha learned how to escape Maya, his destiny (illusion), by escaping his father and mother. He would have never learned this if he'd continued repeating the same old same old, the way it's always been done. This is how to write truth. When writing truth becomes proscribed, when writing truth must be in some acceptable form, it is not truth at all but a semblance of truth. That is, it is Maya. So, too, an opinion: when it's only an opinion if it's done in a particular way, it's no longer opinion. It is something insufferable. It's doctrine. The Dao that can be described is not the Dao at all. How can you maintain there is a proper way of expressing opinion or truth? The same old same old. Imitation is not knowledge. James Secor is not a safe and secure tenured professor at any particular university, he is a wandering scholar offering his knowledge, experience and truth to the highest bidder. That is, he is a prostitute. He is also a writer, actor/director, political activist expat who still doesn't do what he's told. Too, upon occasion, he is insufferably arrogant. But he does have a Ph.D. [written by Minna vander Pfaltz]
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Jim is a retired professor, a writer-playwright living out on the edge of the Gobi Desert where the skies are clear, the air fresh and the water possibly the only non-polluted water in the country: mountain run-off from the year-round snow-capped Qilian Range, which he can see from his front patio. He can be reached at: znzfqlxskj@gmail.com any time night or day.
Other articles by this author: http://mwcnews.net/Jimsecor
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