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Buddha wasn’t a Buddhist

Tea Tao —

Often it feels as if waking up in medias res on the path to illumination. It also feels as though some backstory might be helpful or informative, but remains unavailable. Perhaps it got lost somewhere, along with the keys to the vamana.

I prefer not to self-identify with a particular brand of religion. That being said, most of the inner work I did was in Asia and all happened to share the common element of Taoism. Taoism appeals to me because of its decided lack of rules, and general resistance to labeling thing and preconceiving much of anything. The name of this path or Way is a handle tag when dealing with others, outsiders; otherwise it is often simply referred to as “that thing” — or even better not referred to at all.

In the ancient world, to give something a name (or to know the name of a deity for example) is to have power over it, to possess it in some way. This requires a rather disproportionate view of self — at least in the context of the great game. Considering this for a moment while the kettle boils, I’m reminded of the notion that Buddha wasn’t a Buddhist. He walked the Way, his way, as opposed to following that of anyone else. It reminds — again — of one of my early instructions of tea, one which I misinterpreted in various ways for many years. It was a question: ‘Are you a steward or are you a king?’. If the game is total sovereignty of the self, then the path becomes clear; all that remains to do is to walk it.

On that note I’ll have another cup of tea.


It all Sounds easy, that feeling that comes thru, the experience as it unfolds. Allowing things to come and go always with a warm heart. A cold heart warms again sitting in front of the crackling flame of the Tao or in the centre of am inferno melting back down to ash. Either way, it truly does feel like a centre. A centre I am constantly returning to. Dying. Being. Reborn. Never new, always now, always Tao.

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