Grief Joys, Joy Grieves, On Slender Accident.

Surely compassion is the goal, compassion and service to humanity. That is what is preached by many millions, over many thousands of generations, in multifarious traditions, religions and institutions. This is compassion. All that seems to be, all that is, is unconditional love. What we have been led to believe is reality is dreamlike; it is not dismissed, but seen as appearance, a most fitting appearance, the appearance that must be; and like a dream to the untutored dreamer, it is intense, fleshy, juicy, more itself for being seen. Yet there is an imperative that ricochets amongst the bedlam that the goal is service, to be all- compassionate, to lose the small self and expand into the wonder. In all there is all, in the appearance there is duality, and duality demands sinners for the saints, and evil deeds for altruism. There are many paths to enlightenment, and life itself is path enough for some apparent persons. There are not too many tomes written about the WHAMMO! What the hell?!? path, where the unsuspecting individual seemingly drops the self spontaneously, but this story exists too. There are many ways to say, "I am lived." There is "there is no one," or, "all that exists is God's will," or "there is only Consciousness," or all the precepts around Buddhist Nirvana or Mukti, in Advaita Vedanta. It needs nothing; not understanding, not wisdom, not just the right words; it is all. There for all to see, difficult to approach. Difficult because to see the worst crimes as love is antithetical to all the socialisation we have so painstakingly gone through. It is all love, and it doesn't matter if it is seen or not, or how hard the disciple works for it, or how unconcerned most individuals are about it. Absolutely everything that seems to be is the perfect expression of love. And, if this is seen, if the self drops away either through apparent hard graft or unexpectedly, those ideals of service and compassion usually unfold. But there is no guarantee. Just look at the life of U. Krishnamurti; it gives flavour to the maxim "An enlightened asshole is still an asshole."