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Slow train coming

  The space is pervaded with green, with the chirping of birds and the sweet smell of pollen. We are in the countryside of Dordogne, and it would be difficult for anyone to find a more idyllic setting. In general, I try not to read the news, especially here, but whenever I do, that idyllic image is replaced by another one: the slow train, picking up speed downhill. The machine engineers are incompetent and instead of stopping it and repairing the faults with care, they keep on loading it with coal. Its lights are on in the darkness; they illuminate only the small patch in front, so the passengers could see the end, but only in a fashion.  Why are we in a such a hurry to destroy our civilisation? Do we have so much that we are bored with it? There was this boredom in the air before the epidemic in 2020. I had the feeling that people, especially the young ones, were waiting eagerly for something to happen. Anything. Just not that day after day boredom. They were trying to shake it off –

The Run-away Brain

Doesn't this look to you like a gigantic brain, irresponsibly left by its owner in the garden? It moves slowly towards the perils of the ocean. There is a small rope, most likely put there to prevent it of running away, although its presence looks purely symbolic. 

For me, this is a great metaphor for our minds. Left out there, unprotected by anything, but our meek gestures of morality, moving slowly to the perils of the ocean of our disturbing emotions. Our anger and greed, loosely tied by the rickety rope of the possibility of social exclusion, our jealousy, painted over by our pride and reluctance to be seen by others as weak, are the only fences. 
That pretence does not protect our mind but we chose to believe that it will. Putting around it the strong chains of moral discipline and mindfulness takes a lot of effort. Most people will just say, 'Let it run free!'.
Our mind, that boulder, will not cause any damage to the ocean, of course, but when it comes tumbling down, it will break into pieces, crushing and dragging everything in its way.


  1. Thank goodness for our lamas, and the dharma that teaches — in its own timeless way — humility, devotion and care, to the rock in that poem, so that it can turn back into sand then merge with the sea. Perhaps only another few million lifetimes 🙏🏽

    1. Indeed! But that is another story…


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