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Mar. 19th, 2006 01:29 pmSpike doesn't believe in fairy tales coming true, and he never has. He's not about to start now, either.
It's been a year and a half since he walked into this place and he still doesn't know how he got here or why. He doesn't know why he couldn't see the door at first, and then once he could why it wouldn't open. He doesn't know why it finally did decide to open for him and why, once it did, he could bring Beth with him back to the Bebop. Sometimes, he has a vaguely uneasy feeling about it all. Almost as if none of it's really happening or ever did happen; like it's all some dream.
Hell, if it's another dream it's a really good one. Despite the shit things that have happened -- Joe disappearing, Hotaru going away and coming back different, opening the door onto Vicious, being framed and shot on that trip out, any other of the less stellar things -- overall, it's been a hell of a ride. And he knows that reality is not a fixed thing anyhow: it's fluid. The Tao Te Ching teaches that free from desire, you realize the mystery. Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations. It also teaches if you look to others for fulfillment, you will never truly be fulfilled. If your happiness depends on money, you will never be happy with yourself. Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you. He knows those teachings but he's only human. He's never professed to have reached Nirvana or even tried. No matter how much he might think otherwise, he's a human being and a pretty damn imperfect one at that. The desire to be a Zen master has never been in his portfolio.
Still, on those days when he tries too hard to figure it all out, he reminds himself of that first teaching. Free from desire, you realize the mystery. Old man Bull used to say that things were called mysteries for a reason, like they're not ours to figure out and that's probably true. Not all things demand or warrant an explanation and usually the harder you look for explanation, the more fleeting it becomes. There's a Zen saying that goes if enlightenment is not where you are standing, where will you look?
He's no monk. He's no spiritualist. He's just a humble bounty hunter, if he wants to go by labels. He knows what he is and he knows what he isn't, and he's good with all of that, every last bit. There are very few occasions when he lets himself revisit his last day out there before he came to the bar for the first time and some of it is because he doesn't like what he remembers and some of it is because he doesn't like what he sees, but most of all he doesn't revisit it because it no longer matters. The past is the past. It led him here and here is what he has, and he's content with what he has. There's no need to look beyond it or into it or try to explain it or take it apart in little pieces. The one thing he's sure of is that he's not dead. Not yet.
It's been a year and a half since he walked into this place and he still doesn't know how he got here or why. He doesn't know why he couldn't see the door at first, and then once he could why it wouldn't open. He doesn't know why it finally did decide to open for him and why, once it did, he could bring Beth with him back to the Bebop. Sometimes, he has a vaguely uneasy feeling about it all. Almost as if none of it's really happening or ever did happen; like it's all some dream.
Hell, if it's another dream it's a really good one. Despite the shit things that have happened -- Joe disappearing, Hotaru going away and coming back different, opening the door onto Vicious, being framed and shot on that trip out, any other of the less stellar things -- overall, it's been a hell of a ride. And he knows that reality is not a fixed thing anyhow: it's fluid. The Tao Te Ching teaches that free from desire, you realize the mystery. Caught in desire, you see only the manifestations. It also teaches if you look to others for fulfillment, you will never truly be fulfilled. If your happiness depends on money, you will never be happy with yourself. Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you. He knows those teachings but he's only human. He's never professed to have reached Nirvana or even tried. No matter how much he might think otherwise, he's a human being and a pretty damn imperfect one at that. The desire to be a Zen master has never been in his portfolio.
Still, on those days when he tries too hard to figure it all out, he reminds himself of that first teaching. Free from desire, you realize the mystery. Old man Bull used to say that things were called mysteries for a reason, like they're not ours to figure out and that's probably true. Not all things demand or warrant an explanation and usually the harder you look for explanation, the more fleeting it becomes. There's a Zen saying that goes if enlightenment is not where you are standing, where will you look?
He's no monk. He's no spiritualist. He's just a humble bounty hunter, if he wants to go by labels. He knows what he is and he knows what he isn't, and he's good with all of that, every last bit. There are very few occasions when he lets himself revisit his last day out there before he came to the bar for the first time and some of it is because he doesn't like what he remembers and some of it is because he doesn't like what he sees, but most of all he doesn't revisit it because it no longer matters. The past is the past. It led him here and here is what he has, and he's content with what he has. There's no need to look beyond it or into it or try to explain it or take it apart in little pieces. The one thing he's sure of is that he's not dead. Not yet.
The Emperor asked Master Gudo, "What happens to a man of enlightenment after death?"
"How should I know?" replied Gudo.
"Because you are a master," answered the Emperor.
"Yes sir," said Gudo, "but not a dead one."
