A cursory look around tells us that the good are often kicked to the curb while the bad whoop it up in sumptious retirement villas on the Cote d’Azur.
I don’t believe in rewards and punishments, heaven and hell, or the seven planes of existence, but I do believe that I become what I do.
So the question for me is, who do I want to become? It doesn’t matter if I’m down in the cellar eating shit or up in the penthouse producing it – wherever I am, I’m with myself. Am I the sort of person I want to be with, all of the time, everywhere I go, for the rest of my life? The choice is always mine.
As the Buddha says, you can lead me to a field full of asparagus but you can’t make me eat it. It’s a little known fact that the Buddha and me share a morbid fear of asparagus.
If every time we put out crap, we got uglier, and every time we added value to the world, we got better looking, there’d be swarms of would-be do-gooders lining up to be nice. And yet, that IS what happens – except it’s on the inside, and that doesn’t show (or count?).
On that subject, take Buddha, the artist formerly known as Prince Siddhartha Gautama. He left his wife and young son to take up a quest for spiritual fulfilment. I wonder how the kid felt about that? Suppose I left my kids to go off and find the meaning of life? They’d be gutted. So what kind of person did that make Buddha? Oh well, guess that’s why I’m not a Buddhist.