We are made of Ocean

Even a strong wind is empty by nature.
Even a great wave is just ocean itself.
Even thick southern clouds are insubstantial as sky.
Even the dense mind is naturally birthless.

-Milarepa, “Drinking The Fountain Stream”

Circumstances found me on a boat last night. Spectacular night, calm seas, beautiful lights on the shore. Reflections of light on the water at night always make me think of impermanence and dependence. We are like reflections on the water, distinguishable but distorted, who rest entirely on and in the Ocean. We may think ourselves to be distinct individuals, but really we are all just ocean. It’s a metphor that breaks if you stretch it too far. Just take away that we depend on God as reflections depend on water.

And then the waves, each appearing distinct, arising from and rushing back to the Ocean. Each wave merging into the place from which it came. We are maybe more like waves — we think we are separate, but we are all made of Ocean.

Moby is wrong.

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