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Published by hgrevemberg
Essay Three - Power - H. Grevemberg explores the power structure of society and illustrates more of the life of a sage while going for a long walk at night. The essay opens with a brief excerpt from Agememnon’s Aeschylus.
Essay Three - Power - H. Grevemberg explores the power structure of society and illustrates more of the life of a sage while going for a long walk at night. The essay opens with a brief excerpt from Agememnon’s Aeschylus.

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Published by: hgrevemberg on Sep 30, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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riends... now that I’ve stepped away rom the angstthat accompanied my drive to establish mysel, or more accurately, ater the unstable oundation was grounded,the communication between mysel and others has becomeso velvety deluxe. There is a place you get to where there isno more conict. It occurs naturally through the practice o meditation. The method is one o repetition — to develop aresonance, to tune yoursel to the ow o energy. The tech-nique is unimportant. I’ve used several: ollowing the breath,repeating the Great Dharini, keeping a question. These days Ionly keep “What am I?” And there are long moments wherethere are no questions, no subject or object, only the raptureo the state itsel.Like many things that we don’t understand, our approachis backwards, archaic. You don’t go in trying to still the mind.That happens by itsel, in the presence o the Absolute. It’s get-ting to that point, which has as much to do with resolving your own existence, sotening, giving in as sitting on the cushionrepeating phrases endlessly.The world we live in, there is no running through elds o owers, at least not without some kind o payment. Outward-ly the decision has to be made, whether to live anonymously
 — a lie o reedom, or to go or a position o power, author-ity. Not only in the eld o politics, business, but religion aswell — the world operates under hierarchies. No one escapesthis model. You can reuse to take part in it, but that doesn’tchange anything. There’s always a head. These demarcationsare important, to a degree, but ask a dying man.The work o Zen is to become liberated and to teach thepath o liberation. It doesn’t ollow convention — even thoughthe institution ollows the hierarchal model. This is where therevolution takes place — between the individual and the estab-lished order. I there were no hierarchies, where would we be?It’s hard to even imagine. I see it as a luxury, a convenience.Everything is organized or you, run by those who believe inthe system. The ladder o success — it’s built in, the climbing.It doesn’t matter whether the prize is a million dollar home, astripe on the sleeve, or a Zen stick, it keeps everyone occupied,the inrastructure humming. The pattern revealed is a eld o  boxes — bland, austere, with some sort o ash designed tolure the unwary customer. You can tell what drives us. Theambition is not or beauty or love — but power. What o our dying man? In a very real sense he is immune to the hegemony — at least on the surace. Inwardly he may still battle or aposition in heaven. It is the sage who truly becomes ree — ree o the noise o civilization while immersed in it, ree o the immense suering that our ambitions create — but it’s thereedom o a sword’s edge: hard won, hard to maintain — im-perceptible. To align onesel to such a task brings a new kindo power — a personal one.I’m not going to go into why one would choose such a path.I assume, i you’re reading this essay, you’ve already ound thenormal pursuits unsatisactory. Unless you were born into aamily with money, unless you nd your own power not de-pendant on outer conditions, you will not have an easy lie. AsI say this, I’m walking, late at night — more than a mile — to
get a shower. Ha ha… It’s been a long day. All kinds o thingsthat were difcult in some way. I don’t struggle with my en-vironment. I’m able to swing a hammer and keep alive, keepthe projects going, and do long retreats. I don’t know how Iwill survive when I get old. I can’t be walking so ar… pressing on. The cool night air, the clatter o dinner plates being putaway — and music, ragments only. A ew more steps and I’mclear o the hulking apartments. The utility lines hang menac-ingly over a ew beat up old vans with blankets over the win-dows. How many long walks? The scenery can’t be recordedhere. There’s nothing that commands one — though I knowI’ve been here beore. Something telling about who they are,the way they arrange their things — with the least amount o thought, with no consideration at all or a man o my sort.There’s an enormous eeling o alienation only possible ina city o machines. Here a pedestrian is an oddity — or maybeit’s that I’m acting out o bounds. It’s hard to tell, harder still toocus on their drone–like behavior. The thing about machines,they don’t care about you, what you’re doing. You’re ree towalk to your demise.There’s a eeling o the bottom alling out, pressure; there’sno place to turn that isn’t lled with images o them. You can’tavoid picking up snatches o their lives, being stranded some-where between things — rom one box to the next.The night, blessed night: made o things hal done, lledwith sounds that distract you even more — o stumbling onthings unexpectedly, hearing ar more than you should; long moments between things; alling into things set like traps tosnare you. Was I wrong to look into a box that someone let behind? There are so many o them here.The Buddha gave his most remarkable teaching at the endo his lie. He said he waited or the end because his studentsweren’t ready or it. “All things are contained in the pure andclear dharmakaya.” Not the meek alone, not the good ones,

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