I would love it if one day the people of Chambalabamba (chambalabamba.org), the eco-community I founded and live in, could go on stage with nothing in mind, and make an entire presentation, completely improvised. That is a dream. After all, everything we say is improvised, because we live life without a script.
There is so much that we cannot control, and so much that we ignore, but in reality, it is likely that we only exhibit our reactions, although we have the ability to initiate as well. We are also the star of our own lives, and each of us have a unique role to play, just as the experiences we experience from moment to moment are uniquely our own, though many we share, and how we react to each experience is what ends up differentiating and defining ourselves.
Most of us look for equanimity, that is, to be able to accept everything that comes to us in a good mood, like a Zen master. We don’t have to do the Japanese-style thing, or even meditate, it’s just an attitude. Like a samurai, who uses the art of force to obtain his ends. The Zen master does not use physical force, he uses the power that lies behind nonviolence, living correctly.
Do we live in a world where the raw power of someone who is willing to kill another dominates? We wanted the law to protect us from that possibility. But it seems that it has failed.
Recently, an indigenous activist for the rights of the jungle, was dismembered by poachers of animals, along with his companions. Violence seems to be winning right now. Protesters who practice nonviolence are confronted with the violence of government police. Large numbers of people are killed by governments and their armies, in what is called “war.”
All this is tolerated, since it seems that we have no voice, that we are powerless and at the mercy of people willing to kill other human beings like cannibals. Cannibals at least eat the bodies. I do not defend this, please do not assume such a thing. I am vegetarian. I would only eat vegetarians. That is a joke. Certain people like to take everything literally. My grandmother was like that. Whatever I would say, she would believe, maybe she was just humoring me. It didn’t bother me because I was just a boy.
Now it seems as if something is moving under my bed. Maybe it is a rat. What were we talking about? I thought it was important, but if one can forget it that easy, maybe it wasn’t. Oh yes, living under the law was supposed to protect us from that possibility, from being under the domain of those who still have the will to kill. But that seems to have failed.
Our skin is so wonderful, it goes beyond comprehension to be wrapped in something so fine, so soft, so firm, so sensual. It is very easy to pass over something so divine, so common. It should be revered, treated as something sacred, something that no one would dare to abuse.