Outside the Stupa

Save the ashes
For reminders
Stony things remain

Tooth and bone
unimpressive
I have left these things

Because fire is bright
Fire is clean
efficient and divine

Tooth and bone
Charms and dolls
I am free tonight

~From "I Burn" by Toadies

I'm sitting on the ground--something I haven't done in far too long--watching ants wind their way through a maze of cow, or perhaps horse--?, bones. I just picked up a femur and marveled at the swirled curve of a socket. It is perfectly articulated. I once would have traded everything in order to know its designer. But now I don't want to know him/her/it. I doubt that I would understand this entity, anyway. Besides, there would be a sort of diminishment of the designer if we did connect. My eros is too hungry, too groping. I'd want to somehow internalize the creator, perhaps even worship it. Instead, I'll simply gaze from a distance and "be" in this creation, this moment, with these insects and leg bones, these skulls.

I'm at the Shambhala Center outside of Fort Collins, Colorado, a Buddhist retreat nestled in the mountains. My friends and I drove here this afternoon. It's lovely. I hear the wind rustling the aspen leaves. I see silver flecks as they flutter. We entered the stupa a few minutes ago, and while I found the gilded Buddha statue impressive, and the colorful designs and mosaics enchanting, I couldn't sit there on a meditation cushion for long. Doing so felt claustrophobic here in this idyllic wooded setting. I also couldn't remain in the stupa because it was uninspiring. I've outgrown religion in all of its forms. It's not that I feel superior to believers; rather, religion has become too confining for me. In my eyes, it can't possibly contain the Source; in fact, the earth itself can't contain it. And I don't think a man-made temple can begin to adequately address or express this Ground of Being.

Nonetheless, I made the decision while sitting on the floor of the stupa to ignore the religious aspects of what surrounded me and instead bask in the sensual experience. Perhaps if I had to name my religion, it would be sensuality. Or art, the expression of sensuality. I'm much too erotic of heart for any religion constructed by humans. So I'll sit here on the dry, grassy ground among these bones and simply "enjoy" without seeking understanding or a connection to the transcendent. This transcends.

NOTE: I did return to the stupa later in the day, where I found the following words in a poem someone left as an offering:

In the garden of gentle sanity
May you be bombarded
with coconuts
and wakefulness.