A Mountain is a Mountain.

Regardless of which side of the debate you prefer to straddle, there is one constant among all belief systems.  Faith is required in order to pursue any relationship with that which is beyond all comprehension.  We strive to understand the nature of this phenomenon and in the end, the only proof for any of it is what is told to us by that part of our brain we call our heart.  The concept of flux is ever apparent.  Even as I type everything around me changes in subtle yet persistent ways.  Though I cannot see it directly, I am aware of the process.  The idea of having an inherent understanding of things as they are is most apparent before we utilize symbols to express those things.  So we arrive at Zen again:

Mu is a term in Zen that is used to describe "emptiness " or "nothingness." This is what a zen practitioner hopes to attain and realize. The universe is in a constant flux of change. Nothing ever remains unchanged. As long as we continue to desire we will always be suffering. If one wishes not to suffer, desire must be cut-off from one's life. Physically, all sentient beings suffer with birth, illness, old age, and death. The whole body-mind complex is in a state of suffering.

And though desire lies at the root, and dissapointment is the byproduct of expectation, there is professed a systematic movement towards something more. Alleviation from suffering is the goal of enlightenment.  All sentient beings suffer and as a result, the cycle must be transmuted into something else in order for the chain to be broken.   Through realization it is as such:

        Before one studies Zen, a mountain is a mountain.

        Once one attains insights, a mountain is not a mountain.

        When one really understands, a mountain is a mountain.

Winston Dufaux has on display in the Ionic Collective, that postmodern fragment of the metaverse Second Life, a small collection of his short poetry.  Not quite haiku but strangely similar in tone.  When you approach the gallery (which is nestled sweetly underneath a lake, behind the main stage) the lights from within appear to glow as if emanating from luminescent apparitions.  It all depends on how you belief.  The lights could be lights.  They could be virtual representations of what lights could be.  They could be voices as if from dreams, as if who placed them there dreamt them and was inspired.  Again, I would like to mention the band Engrama, because they deserve it.  Winston hopes to read his poems aloud while accompanied by Pupito on guitar.  This may happen tomorrow if the cards fall in the right manner.  Noom, the assertive and helpful sim manager (who actually lives in Portugal) made some nice backdrops for the poetry.  She is the one who will ensure that Winston actually commits to this endeavour. 

In the spirit of Portugal, for not much is spoken of Portuguese cuisine, I would like to direct you to Mize's blog, where you'll find and interesting and diverse collection of recipes.  Of note, there is not always a complicated path on the road to delicious food preparation.  So yes, things connect in a seemingly random fashion, but strip away preconceptions and it all seems like one small chain in the realm of existence.  Isolate the event, and the magic is in the fact that it even occurred in the first place.  Do people really think it is clever to say It seems like Déjà vu all over again.  Oh, I think I had this Déjà vu before!  Shrugs.

So continues this dance between the virtual and the actual, between the imaginative and the concrete.  Winston, a talking mime, and me an omniscient third person narrator.  Depending on perception, maybe I am the mime without a body who only has printed words to convey my performance.  I remember one of my first dreams, I was three years old.  There was a variegated aluminum building.  Slate blue.  At the upper right hand corner there was a circle within which a man and woman sang "It's a Small World."  I have always been a prolific dreamer, and have taught myself to remember more dreams than most people (as far as I've been told) and the other night I dreamt I won $15000.  No biggie, it is because money is always a worry.  Just like seeing a small world when you are three is not a big deal.  Whether my dreams contain some key into reading the nature of reality, I can not readily proclaim.  What I can say is that my mind does present some curious symbolism through dreams, and if i look closely enough, from a heart filled with silence, every once in a while, I see a mountain once more.