[The Monk, 602 words, Genre: Experimental]
* Image courtesy of Dirk de Bruyn
There is a war. Within the human heart or in the external world. There is always war. A struggle. Conflict. Things progress quickly in a time of struggle, technology develops rapidly, new realisations become understood. Perhaps in these points of struggle, these points of friction, we evolve at a more rapid rate. There is always a casualty. Compassion is the first in a state of war. The world is chaos and through these periods of chaos new developments occur.
And through it all the monk sits there and meditates. He is peaceful to all outward appearances. He maintains calm and prosperity is ensured in his presence. It is not by his action that prosperity is ensured, but through his lack of action that these things are maintained. For in a world where everyone struggles to gain power. The power struggle, where individuals attempt to hold something over one another. In this world, people are always changing places, like a game of musical chairs. The seat of power cannot be maintained for very long. Because people are always looking for a place to sit. The monk, though, he sits on the ground. In the dirt, he does not seek that seat. His quest is an abstraction of the game that is being played. He seeks to eradicate the desire for the comfort of the seat of power. Knowing all too well that the seat is cursed. With so many people desiring the seat, there can only be one. And the world will always be at conflict whilst others desire the seat. Those who wish for the cursed seat, see not the responsibility, but the power and material rewards the seat offers. And that is why the seat is cursed. Through a lack of understanding of what the seat presents. It is not a comfortable seat, but the most uncomfortable seat in the world. Responsibility weighs heavily on whoever sits upon it. The monk knows this and for this, his seat in the dirt brings him more comfort than the seat of power ever could.
But there is always war, there is always conflict, that’s how these things develop. People externalise their enemies, creating monsters of their friends and family. The monk does not do this. His war is somewhere else. His war is internal. He is attempting to conquer the desire for gain, the conquest and taming of that animal instinct of greed. The monk still feels it, the desire. The will to accumulate more. Though in his quest, he seeks to separate that which is a necessity and that which is a construction of the architectural intricacies of power. Those great structures which are the building blocks of human civilization. Civilization and competing civilizations. The quest to hold the seat. The monk is human after all, he can feel the tugs of the strings from civilization. The desire to conquer, to hold precedence over others. The true monk, the true man of spiritual fortitude does not hold an office or position. To do so would be to hold power, an abstraction of that which he attempts to conquer. His quest is not acknowledged as others are. His quest is a war of its own kind. The war within one’s self to be content with their seat in the dirt. To recognise the dirt for what it is, a comfort and not an place to be feared.
And for all of this the monk maintains peace. For physical war is a construction of those who externalise their enemies. The monk is fighting his war within. And for that, everything outside him is peace.