I heard on the radio this morning that today is the first anniversary of the Tunisian revolution. All sorts of people came together throughout the country to celebrate. Leaders from a variety of Arab nations praised the country and the movement of change that it sparked across the Arab world (even Algeria, hardly a free state itself, joined the chorus of praise).
I remember well when this upheaval began to unfold last year. It was at once remrkable and not; it required a deep shift in thinking and yet it was so obvious and simple. Where and when that shift began is impossible to say, because as soon as we locate one cause, then we have to locate the cause of that cause, and then the cause of that cause’s cause, on so on and so forth, infinitely. The whirl of this karma finds us the only place we can be, here and now.
And it reminds me that we live all together, that my life is inseparable from the lives of all others, in Tunisia, France, Peru, Madagascar, New York… And that we each live alone, that in our shared solitude there is nothing for each of us to depend on.
All (alone) together
About the Author: zenscribe
Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste.
The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.
I also like summer rain. Summer rain always do, come and go quickly, http://www.google.com too late to carefully listen to the window the sun is everywhere. Although the summer rain come Wuwu can always under a sensation.
seeing both sides of the coin at once: interconected and lonly.
not if if – but and and –
Multidimension instead of flat life. Tension between everything.
The consiousness of perishableness – the vulnerability of the moment we die.
The foundation of our dignity?