Am I well-adjusted to death, or am I just cold-hearted?

Sometimes I wonder. Death is sad, yes...but it is also inevitable. Considering the manner in which other people grieve (especially at the loss of those they didn't know personally), I feel as though we assume immortality is a given. But it isn't.

Jāti-paccaya jarāmaraṇa

"With Birth as condition, Ageing and Death arise"

Paticcasamuppāda (Dependent Origination)

I feel awkward for not feeling the need to announce my condolences to the world. I feel awkward for thinking "the world keeps spinning". I feel awkward for thinking "would you mourn as much for the stranger who died in a road traffic accident?". It's not that I value the contribution of those who have passed any less, but I don't see how a public display of attachment and suffering is going to change anything.

Maybe sitting at my grandmother's bedside during her final moments as a 12 year-old really did prepare me for death. Or maybe I'm just weird.

Sabbe sattā bhavantu sukhitattā!

Rising above it all

It's not so much what they think of me, but more the mere fact that their opinions have an effect on me. That's what's so annoying. It's my inability to rise above their immature jibes.

Selo yatā eka ghano
vātena na samirati

Dhammapada: Pandita Vagga [6]

That's what you said, no? Why is it so difficult to follow? Why must everything be so difficult?

Why can I not be weak, for once?

Sabbe sattā bhavantu sukhitattā!

Home Improvements

I try to keep my emotions in check. Always. Not that I suppress them (which is an oft-mistaken view of Buddhism), but I try not to let my emotions get to a level where they consume me. Sometimes, I falter. I get upset, or angry, or annoyed...I suppose we all do. The problem with me, is that I get annoyed that I'm upset/angry/annoyed. I berate myself for letting my emotions get the better of me. Obviously this doesn't bode well for moving on, because then I just get depressed about not being able to counter my emotions and then I feel a failure and so on, so forth...a downward spiral ensues. So I have to catch myself, at some point...any point. I have to remember to love myself, and tell myself not to admonish my conscience for faltering. I have to coax myself into a positive state of mind, so that I can accept my reaction, learn from it and move on.

My mother says I'm one of the few people she knows who's actually actively trying to improve themselves. Do so many of us actually think we are perfect? Or do we choose to use our imperfections as an excuse for failure? I choose to use my imperfections as a starting point for change...to make little alterations here and there to my temperament. Home improvements, as it were.

I hope I'm not the only one.

Sabbe sattā bhavantu sukhitattā!