Am I #CharlieHebdo? No. But I hate the terrorists as much as you do!

It’s a complicated affair. And indeed, there are many ways of looking at the ‪#‎CharlieHebdo‬ massacre – and none of these ways excuse the act. The attack against its staff is ugly and heinous. Should have never happened. The terrorists will burn in hell, most probably … If there’s one.

Now that I’ve got this point out of the way, let’s just be clear that the #CharlieHebdo Islam cartoons are indeed tasteless, their brand of satire hateful; they’re as much ‘free speech’ as the venomous sermons of the Muslims sheikhs who call for the death of infidels and warn Muslims against being friendly to others but their in-group.

Two sides of the same friggin’ coin.

And that’s coming from a non-practicing Muslim who didn’t flinch or bat an eyelid at the Danish cartoon saga – in fact, those only left me angry with my own people (if I may say so of the 1-billion-plus Muslims across the world), of how rashly and violently they reacted.

Bottom line, I believe Charlie Hebdo’s house style sucks balls, their cartoons verge on being incendiary – and perhaps they should be held liable for promoting a form of hate speech through their stacks of anti-Islam cartoons, but that’s up to media watchdogs, critics, commentators, even courts if you will, to decide.

Our sentiments as Muslims don’t set the rules here, rightfully so, and we’re not judges, and we shouldn’t be.

How the radicals among us reacted is unforgivable, ugly, criminal and shameful – and it’s symptomatic of deeper flaws in Islam and Muslims. NOTHING justifies their actions. Nothing.

So, fellow Muslims – and I mean this lovingly – shove your offence up yours if it means you’ll act with such blind wrath.

And keep your sob stories to yourself while you’re at it.

My sentiments are not in conflict, mind you. I don’t have to like what the cartoonists produce in order to respect their right to life and free speech, even if that speech may offend me or others … and yes, fellow Muslims, we have to accept that the world doesn’t revolve around us and that it shouldn’t bow to our whims.

One final thing: it’s not just the terrorists that need to be punished for this; just take a look at the comments sections across Arabic newspapers, or scan reactions across social media, see how many Muslims justify this terrible act, and you’ll realize that many, many of these must be disciplined somehow, reprimanded or raged against. You’ll see how many Muslims are lost. That many others harbor a false sense of superiority that will destroy us all if it’s left unchecked.

And yes, we should police each other; scathingly lash against any sign of intolerant, self-serving or aggressive rhetoric at our end. The Muslim “umma” must understand it’s deeply flawed, down to the core, that it too is responsible for the leanings of its loud, violent minority … no matter where these Muslims live or what language they speak. What’s the point of an “umma” then and all that cheap talk about being one and united under the umbrella of Islam and its sub-culture if we aren’t going to be involved when and where it matters?

Or are we only one when it comes to agreeing “hijab is fard,” or that Gaza should be saved, or that “children should be taught to pray at the age of 7,” but many and different and separate when there’s a collective responsibility to shoulder, and a need to reign in the misguided among our ranks?

We’re either in this together or we stop bullshiting each other about this “umma” notion.

The Muslim “umma” needs to divorce itself from obsolete ideas, need to know that the world owes it nothing, that we’re reaping what we sow and that no, we’re not entitled to respect, or tolerance, or any of those nice and pretty things. Not until we go into rehab and acknowledge our failings. Open our eyes to how much we broke this world we’re currently living in. Not until some of us stop scaring, manipulating or crying their way into forcing people to tolerate them. Or worse, fear them, which is our reality now.

Few people respect us, most just fear our darkness.

That’s not a place I wanna be. And I think some of you might feel the same.

And sure you can make all the shitty excuses in the world so you can sleep better at night or play the victim for one more year or until the next atrocity takes place; “the terrorists don’t represent us,” “it’s all politics,” “they started it.”

Yeah, right.

Beneath all these childish excuses and if you have a sound heart, you must realise that this transcends politics and religious squabbles. That no, the world will not coddle or baby us because we’re in denial and pulling a tantrum (a tantrum that literally costs lives). That no one hurts the “Muslim cause” (whatever that is) more than Muslims. That when all is said and done, there’s still the fact that something is wrong with us. This “umma.” You and me.

Here’s what this post is inspired by.

My ‘ruddy mysterious’ experiments

Latest ruddy mystery: Promoting smoking while rubbishing it

Latest ruddy mystery: Promoting smoking while rubbishing it

I have launched an inspired personal project, mainly out of boredom, and started publishing my finds on a pinterest board.

The ‘ruddy mysterious’ experiments (phrase partly inspired by an episode of the British comedy The IT Crowd) feature yours truly doing different, highly irrelevant things: Like applying home-made glitter nail polish, dying my hair blue, smoking for the camera then artfully doctoring the shots, posing with a sword or staff, or going to the desert dressed in a cocktail dress.

The purpose of the experiments is pure, unadulterated entertainment.

In other equally unimportant news, I have opened up my new Facebook profile for followers.

Another one where I decided to go blue, at least in small bits.

Another one where I decided to go blue, at least in small bits.

Moi times four

Moi times four

Changing my Twitter art then changing it again. #ExcitingTimes

Changing my Twitter art then changing it again. #ExcitingTimes

Then of course going back to mourning my Twitter look is part of the experimental process

Then regretting that and mourning my old Twitter look. #Help

Only to repeat the process on Facebook.

Only to repeat the process on Facebook.

Cheap, plastic, tacky constants

When I was in Shaolin China, in a temple town in Henan province, I always felt it was like a dream simply because everything was different. There was no one I knew, my decision to go there was sporadic so I went with little research, there was nothing that I related to at first or recognized. You name it: language, culture, how people looked and dressed, even going to town for a visit to the supermarket was an exercise in cultural shock.

I was too afraid at the beginning. I travelled alone, no guides, and no Chinese language skills. No one spoke English in this part of China, it was very far from the ‘civilized world’ as we know it. For the first few days, I couldn’t stomach the food and I lived on steamed rice and water. I didn’t understand when people spoke about me around me, or when they spoke to me. I felt threatened if I walked a bit too far from my school, fearing I wouldn’t be able to find my way back. Even having a phone was useless; because there was no one I could call in China in an emergency. My first Kung Fu Shifu spoke little English, and I had to use sign language a lot and gesticulate dramatically to get small things across. Even the silence at night on Kung Fu camp used to scare me. On my first day in the Kung Fu school, I woke up thinking it’s a mistake, after I went to bed crying the night before and shaking under the covers. What the hell did I do? I thought. How did I ever think this was a good idea. “I’ll book my flight back to Egypt next week,” I said to myself, “or as early as I can. Until then, I’ll hide in my room.”

Then the change happened, I fell in love with the place, started liking Kung Fu training, got used to every single aspect of the strangeness and moved from scared alien to lover. To the point where the phrase “Made in China,” now printed on almost every single merchandise in the world thanks to a tigerish economy, became an endearing thing, and a bag of memories.

However, the feeling that Egypt is so far away, almost like a fantasy land, never went away. I was in Middle Earth. And Egypt is some mad version of a post-apocalyptic futuristic movie. If not for discovering VPN three months into my stay and getting re-connected to familiar “avatars” and “status updates” on Facebook and Twitter, I would’ve been mentally stranded in this bubble or would’ve sworn Egypt and its worries existed only in my imagination, and that things like Starbucks, fancy restaurants, “City Stars,” and even McDonalds are mere hallucinations; the Matrix that I can’t see for what it used to be anymore.

Surviving without familiars can confuse you at first. It reminds me with this fictional character in Lost, the Sci-fi TV series, I think he was a Scott, who needed some sort of a “constant” as he traveled back and forth between time. I remember his lover was called Penny, and she was his constant.

Now, when I came back to Egypt, I felt the opposite of that. It was time for the reverse shock. Mind you, I spent over a year in Europe, and despite finding some difficulty adapting at first when I moved back to Cairo, it’s nothing, nothing compared to a change from a secluded martial arts boarding school in the Asian mountains to a big bustling city in the Middle East.

I came back to the same people, close loved ones too, family, friends, albeit people who haven’t experienced or have seen what I’ve seen. I felt like I was in a coma for 9 months, or to me, they were. Like going to sleep, then waking up a year later. Things have changed; There’s a new president, new graffiti on the walls, some big and small changes, and some things that didn’t change at all. They got back a girl, who looks the same, but not so much; a subtle difference is there and they can’t quite figure it out.

I was quiet at first. I mean, what should I say? And it seemed to me, they didn’t know where to start either.

Have you seen what I have seen? … No, you can’t imagine. Have I seen what you have seen? No. I can’t imagine too.

But I think, at least in my case, they can see some signs. My disenchantment, staying in my room for hours on end, keeping quiet, or just being suddenly explosive and angry, sleep disturbances because no matter how much Abbas El Akkad is quiet, it’s not quiet enough, not remotely. Going out becomes a burden, and I almost developed a phobia to driving in Egypt traffic.

And now ever since I got back, my closest companion is a water bottle. In China, where I was, everyone had a plastic water bottle, young or old, even Kung Fu masters and policemen carried them. The bottles were filled with strange looking herbal teas, carrying some flowers or seeds, or just plain hot water to sip on. It’s second nature there. Especially with water.

And I picked the habit.

Now, my water bottle has become my constant.

No, not my pictures and videos from there, not my Kung Fu uniforms, or my Shaolin weapons or Buddhist accessories (because these seem like things bought from a souvenir shop, and my weapons look like heavily-used movie props. In Egypt, they look so out of place, drowned in clutter. I look at them, and I almost can’t believe I know how to use them. Sometimes I see in them the same alienation I feel in my heart).

But my water bottle is different; it’s a simple, small reminder that I was part of a different culture, at least for a while. No one around me sips on hot water; some make fun of me. But that makes it even more precious, because it’s a part of the China experience that they can see, touch, poke fun at me for. The water bottle is cheap, it’s not something I can order on ebay or ship from a Kung Fu shop abroad, or want to. I couldn’t have got it unless I was there.

It’s kitsch, it’s used, it’s scratched from multiple falls to the floor, it’s too normal to be a fantasy and I fill it with steaming hot water and sip on it like my friends the Chinese do.

My plastic water bottle –which sells for 15 yuan a pop– with the plastic pink top and the faded Chinglish writing is the proof I was there, that China didn’t happen in my head while I was sleeping.

I was there because my plastic water bottle is here.

Just knowing this gives me peace.

Image

My plastic security blanket; I owe it a bit of my sanity

Religion: An afterthought

Just to be clear to readers, regarding my previous post “Religion,” when I say the word ‘religion’ in any post I’m generally referring not just to the current Islamic religious institution (except in cases when I clearly name Islam straight up), but to other orthodox religious institutions as well, including the Church for instance. For me, many of these institutions in my part of the world are radical, perhaps for reasons that have to do more with application than anything else, or so it seems. That said, sometimes revered and holy texts play a part too. But I’m not here to hand down verdicts, pit one religion against another or decide which faith invites more condemnation or praise.

I choose to talk about my own experience, and I’m only responsible for that.

Hopefully, one day, others, whatever their faiths are, or those who have left the faith, revised their approach to it or still cling to it for reasons they know best, can open up and talk about their experiences too, honestly. Be they Muslim, Coptic, atheist, Baha’i, agnostic, Jewish, or Hindu. No religion is above critique, and none is void of some good as well.

My words and anecdotes, from here on, should not be taken as a pretext to “prove” the flaw of this religion or that, or as a launch pad for blame or as a means to boast about the superiority of one ideology or thought over another. At the end of the day, whatever the original thought maybe, if its application or processing are flawed, if questioning is absent, and genuine doubts and concerns are crushed, tabooed, ignored or rebuffed, it doesn’t matter if the thought carries the names of “Muhammad” or “Jesus” or “Moses,” “G-d” or “Buddha” or all of them combined, it doesn’t matter if it was originally desired to bring peace, or love or justice, it still won’t work. Not now, not ever.

Eventually, no matter how much one believes an ideology or religion is not what its followers want it to be, but what it really is, both notions will be mixed and confused.

Our minds depend on associations to understand the world around us.

It’s really as simple as that.

The Buddha

“All the commentaries have said that Buddha renounced the world. It is not true. The world simply fell away. It has ceased to have any meaning for him.” –– Osho

When Buddha saw it for what it is, when he saw death, sickness and old age, he became disenchanted by the world, and declared, “I cannot fool myself anymore.”

What made the prince declare he was “sick unto death” and drove him out of the palace of his father? What did he do next when he saw that “diamonds” were dust, as scriptures put it? Where did it all begin?

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Source: sathyasaibaba.wordpress.com

During the next few weeks, I’d like ––in short notes here–– to share some excerpts from literature on the life and teachings of the Buddha, Siddharta Guatama, and general comments on his life and teachings. In my view, some of Buddha’s thoughts are timeless and illuminating.

But before I do so, let me first dispel some stereotypes about Buddha.

And I ask you, while reading this, to please start with a clean slate and forget what the West has promoted about Buddhism. Forget the Dalai Lama, or even the highlighted practices that new age Buddhism has been associated with. Read this with an open heart.

Buddha was not, and is not, a God 

He was not a god or deity per se, at least not in the traditional sense or in the way that people in this part of the world define the word “god”.

Budda was a human being, who was as lost and tortured by reality as many around us. He wanted to understand, and he left the familiar in search for meaning. He was a rich prince who had it all, including money, power, a wife and a small child, but one day “having seen everything, and found nothing,” he simply turned inward. He abandoned his life and riches, and the palace of his father, and went on a long journey that ended with him “reaching enlightenment.”

Or rather began with that.

He returned to the house of his father years later, a different man, and then continued speaking to whoever would listen about his experience. He lived a simple life after. His own father and wife became part of his following. Buddha was not a god, he was a prince, a warrior, a swordsman, and one of the best archers of his time, then a monk and a seeker. He was a son, a cousin, a neighbor, a brother, a husband, a father, a teacher and finally an inspiration to those around him.

What is enlightenment?

In the Buddhist tradition, enlightenment is an act of self-destruction and annihilation at its core, its aim is to reach a state of emptiness, and reception of the truth. Buddhism does not define truth, but alludes to it. In its heart of hearts, it has very few absolutes if any.

Enlightenment is returning to the state of godliness –– what some mystics and Sufis call unity, or merging with the divine, becoming one with it, to the point when the seeker is not distinguishable for what he or she seeks. And from there, the idea of Buddha becoming a “god” has emerged; in the end it’s nothing beyond the idea of Buddha attaining a state of transcendence.

But again, Siddharta [the Buddha that we know] is not unique in that. Buddhism believes that this state of enlightenment ––absolute sight, reaching a knowing, becoming a mirror that reflects truth–– can be reached by anyone. Everyone has the potential, but few of course reach this level of purity, and so they’re revered as ‘super beings.’

Perhaps the term god, in our books, is not the best way to describe the experience, because we use it exclusively to refer to the Creator or the Higher Intelligence that governs the Universe. And in this respect and translating this state into our terms, Buddha, even by Buddhists standard, is not a god, but a human being that saw what others have not yet seen, but which could come to see if they take the path. His state would be similar to what Sufis would refer to as ‘3aref’ or ‘3arefeen.’

In fact, in Sanskrit, buddha is a general term that refers to the enlightened among humans, whoever they are, and Buddha, capitalized, usually refers to the most famous of those, the enlightened prince Siddharta Guatama, the subject of this post.

Buddhism is not a religion

The ritualistic quasi-dogmatic institutionalization that Buddhism is experiencing now is nothing but an innovation by its followers. When Buddha died, around 70 schools of thought were born, each approaching the philosophy differently, and adopting different texts and different degrees of rituals and dogmatism. But original Buddhism is not a religion. In fact, in its pure form, it’s everything but that. It’s merely a signpost, a way of looking at life’s biggest questions; a mystical tradition if you will, and a path that has a very good chance of pointing people to truth. And that’s that.

Only crucial moments are highlighted in the story of Buddha

Buddha never claimed he’s either a deity or a god. But a human being who found a truth he cannot put into words, but so can only describe a possible path to. In fact, the major schools of thought differ on the relevance of the details of Buddha’s life (including when and where he lived precisely) because, in the words of Karen Armstrong, “they were more concerned about the meaning of historical events.” Some stories were there only for allegorical or symbolic meaning, important for their significance regardless of historic accurate detail.

Armstrong says, “The scriptures show that the first Buddhists thought deeply about several crucial moments in [Buddha’s] biography: his birth, his renunciation of normal domestic life, his enlightenment, the start of his teaching career, and his death.” The incidents of great importance are the subject of scripture, which derives its teachings from Buddha’s experiences. “His was essentially an autobiographical philosophy,” says Armstrong.

As Buddha puts it: “He who sees me, sees the dhamma (the teaching), and he who sees the dhamma sees me.” Again quoting Armstrong, “it follows that understanding the Buddha’s life, which is to an extent fused with his teaching, can help us all understand the human predicament.”

Buddha: A guide or a superhuman?

Some monks simply regarded Buddha as a guide and an exemplar, others began to see him as superman. According to Armstrong, traditional scholars used to see the former as a purer form of Buddhism while the latter was seen as a corruption. Modern scholars see both as authentic.

Guatama [Buddha], says Armstrong, “did not want a personality cult, but paradigmatic individuals such as himself, Socrates, Confucius, and Jesus tend to be revered either as gods, or as superhuman beings. Even the Prophet Muhammad, who always insisted that he was an ordinary human being, is venerated by Muslims as the Perfect Man, an archetype of the complete act of surrender (islam) to God. The immensity of the being and achievements of these people seemed to defy ordinary categories. […]

“After his enlightenment, we get no sense of his likes and dislikes, his hopes and fears, moments of desperation, elation or intense striving.  What remains is an impression of a transhuman serenity. The Buddha is often compared to non-human beings––to animals, trees or plants–– not because he is subhuman or inhumane, but because he has utterly transcended the selfishness that most of us regard as inseparable from our condition. The Buddha was trying to find a new way of being human.”

He is not the only buddha, many came before, and many would come after, he said

“[Buddha] would have said that there was nothing unique about his life. There had been other Buddhas before him, each of whom delivered the same dhamma (teachings) and had exactly the same experiences. Buddhist tradition claims that there have been twenty-five such enlightened human beings and that after the present historical era, when knowledge of his essential truth has faded, a new Buddha, called Metteya, will come to earth and go through the same life-cycle.”

Buddha’s Prophecy and the last buddha

Metteya, the buddha of the next age that Buddha spoke of, is commonly represented sitting on a raised seat, his feat resting on the ground, a sign that he will arise from his seat and appear in the world. The Sanskrit word for the name Metteya means “friendly and benevolent” and/or “love.” And unlike, the thin famished-looking Buddha of that world, depicted in meditation, with his eyes closed, in a state of “listening/reception” or “waiting,” the Chinese depict the next Buddha in an image of abundance and joy and he’s usually smiling or laughing. Metteya, whom Buddha spoke of, would achieve complete enlightenment when he appears and would teach the purest form of the Dhamma (the teachings that lead to enlightement or illumination). He will appear in a time when this Dhamma had been forgotten.This Metteya, according to ancient Buddhist scripture, was expected to come in the future as the last of the earthly Buddhas.

This is a mysterious aspect of Buddhism, this prophecy, and many Buddhist and non-Buddhist scholars have elaborated on this concept of Metteya (as well as many claiming to know who he was). And what I personally found interesting is that some Sanskrit researchers, including Muslim ones, have concluded that this “last and final awakened Buddha” is none other than our Prophet Muhammad, the last of this heavenly kin. According to some versions of the prophecy, Buddha said that Metteya would appear “in the West,” which to India and China, is our part of the world. He would appear in a distant future before the “end of time.”

In the words of Osho, “There have been many buddhas before him and there have been many buddhas after him –– and as long as every human being can become a buddha, new buddhas will go on springing up in the future. Everyone has the potentiality … it is only a matter of waiting for the right time. Some day, tortured by the outside reality, in despair of having seen everything and found nothing, you are bound to turn inward.”

Buddha has not abandoned the world, he just saw it for what it is

“Buddha has not renounced the world, he has renounced his illusions about it,” says Osho. “And that … was a happening, not an act. When renunciation comes as a happening it has a tremendous beauty, because there is no motive in it. It is not a means to gain something else. It is total. You are finished with desiring, you are finished with the future, you are finished with power, money and prestige, because you have seen the futility of it all.”

Buddha on the nature of truth

“Whether you believe or not makes no difference to truth. But if you believe in God you will go on seeing––at least thinking that you see––God. If you don’t believe in God, this disbelief in God will prevent you from knowing. All beliefs prevent you because they become prejudices around you, they become ‘thought-coverings’ –– what Buddha calls avarnas.

The man of intelligence does not believe in anything and does not disbelieve in anything. The man of intelligence is open to recognizing whatsoever is the case. If God is there he will recognize––but not according to his belief. He has no belief.

[…] You cannot see something that goes against your belief; you will become afraid, you will become shaky, you will start trembling. You have put so much into your belief––so much life, so much time, so much prayers. For fifty years a man has been devoted to his belief––now, suddenly, how can he recognize the fact that there is no God? A man has put his whole life into communism, believing that there is no God; how can he come to see if God is there? He will go on avoiding.

I’m not saying anything about whether God exists or is not. What I am saying is something concerned with you, not with God. A clear mind is needed, an intelligence is needed that does not cling to any belief. Then you are like a mirror: you reflect that which is; you don’t distort it.”

Buddha on Knowledge and information 

“Buddha is not knowledgeable. An intelligent person does not care much about information and knowledge. An intelligent person cares much more for the capacity to know. His authentic interest is in knowing, not in knowledge.

Knowing gives you understanding; knowledge only gives you a feeling of understanding without giving you real understanding. Knowledge is a false coin; it is deceptive. It only gives you the feeling that you know, yet you don’t know at all. You can accumulate knowledge as much as you want, you can go on hoarding, you can become extremely knowledgeable. You can write books, you can have PhDs and LittDs, and still you remain the same ignorant, stupid person you have always been. Those degrees don’t change you; they can’t change you. In fact, your stupidity becomes stronger; it has degrees now! It proves itself through certificates. It cannot prove itself through life, but it can prove itself through the certificates.

[…]

I have seen intelligent farmers, but I have not seen intelligent professors. I have seen intelligent woodcutters, but I have not seen intelligent professors. Why? What has gone wrong with these people?

One thing has gone wrong: they can depend on knowledge. They need not become knowers, they can depend on knowledge. They have found a secondhand way. The firsthand needs courage. The firsthand, knowing, only a few people can afford––the adventurers, people who go beyond the ordinary path where crowds move, people who take small footpaths into the jungle of the unknowable. The danger is that they may get lost. The risk is high. When you can get secondhand knowledge, why bother? You can just sit in your chair. You can go to the library or to the university, you can collect information. You can make a big pile of information and sit on top of it.”

Buddha on death 

Buddha chose the color yellow for his followers’ robes. Yellow represents death, the setting sun, the evening. According to Osho, “Buddha emphasized death, and it helps in a way. People become more and more aware of life in contrast to death. When you emphasize death again and again, you help people to awaken; they have to be awake because death is coming. Wherever Buddha would initiate a new sannyasin, he would tell him, “Go to the cemetery; just be there and watch funeral pyres, dead bodies being carried and burned … go on watching. And remember that this is going to happen to you, too.” Three months’ meditation on death, then coming back–– that was the beginning of sannyas.

On Godliness and the moment of illumination 

“The human being becomes the center of religion, his innermost being becomes godliness, for which you do not have to go anywhere, you simply have to stop going outside. You have to remain within, slowly, slowly settling at your center. The day you are settled at the center, the explosion happens.”

On the enlightenment of Buddha

“It rarely happens that a human being becomes enlightened. It is such a rare and unique phenomenon that the very soul of existence waits for it, longs for it. Thousands of years pass, and then somebody becomes enlightened,” says Osho.

When Buddha reached that state, he sat in silence. He found no use in speaking. Higher forces, call them deities or angels, came down to earth, touched his feet and asked him to speak, urging him, telling him that existence is waiting.

“But Guatam Buddha has his own arguments,” says Osho. “He said, ‘I can understand your compassion, and I would like to speak. For seven days I have been wavering between the two, whether to speak or not to speak, and every argument goes for not speaking … I am going to be misunderstood. I am going to be condemned; nobody is going to listen to me in the way that the words of an enlightened man have to be listened to. Listening needs a certain training, a discipline; it is not just hearing.”

The beings, after deliberation, responded telling him that he can go misunderstood by the majority of men, but if he is understood by only one percent, then this is enough, “it is not small in this vast universe. Even if one person in the whole universe becomes enlightened because of your speaking, it is worth it.”

Buddha preached for forty-two years after enlightenment, and until his death. And those who become enlightened “did not become enlightened because of what Buddha was saying, they become enlightened because they could feel what Buddha was––his presence, his vibe, his silence.” Tradition has it that only a few reached that state.

––––

That’s the first of my posts about Buddha and his life. In later posts I will share more of his words, and wisdom, in the hope that whatever your religion or faith is, or the lack thereof, his philosophy can help you ponder on the beauty and mystery of life, and of the inner self, and its potential for complete illumination. For me, faced with the teachings of Buddha, I find myself quoting النجاشي the King of Ethiopia’s words to early Muslims بتصرف, directed to my Buddhist brothers and friends:

.والله إن هذا وما نزل على محمد ليخرج من مشكاة واحدة

Peace and Amituofo.

—–

Note: Dhamma or Dharma: Law, or natural laws, what sustains the order that uphold the Universe, a body of teachings, or sometimes it also means religion and duty or the knowledge of and the duty to the conduct set by the Buddha as a way of achievening enlightenement.