BE HAPPY

South Coast, NSW, Australia

Be Happy. May all Beings Be Happy. All creatures. We all reached our own rock bottoms and he had reached his several times over. He was sick, but he was not sure what from. And depressed, in a crippled way which helped him dive to to the bottom. All these strange thoughts, which enabled him and destroyed him and which he had never been able to deal with. All was lost; but in the end the only story was the story. And so we worshipped from afar. Old injustices ran around in circles. "Why couldn't they just leave me alone?" But kindness was repaid with theft; and everything came home to roost.

Loss of status, loss of position, loss of purpose. Men felt it in particular, and did not do well. He watched the entire six seasons of The Supranos, lost in another family when his own barely seemed to exist. The children were grown and flown. His parents were in their eighties. He had failed his responsibilities. There were only so many hours he could stare at the wall. Or keep his eyes closed and his head covered. There were symptons of classic depression; but most of all he just needed a home. And he didn't want it to be here. This wasn't his place anymore. Hadn't been his place in years. He hadn't wanted to come back; but one course leads to another, that's all there was.

He was shadowed by ghosts of his own making. He could still hear their voices in the wind. "I told them not to." As in, leave him alone. We've joined the hunt. We're doing their work for them. There's nothing to be gained. He knows nothing, and if he knows anything, he's not stupid enough to tell you. Unless it incriminated those who had done him harm. But the point was, he was not alone. They were preyed on, and he had been preyed upon. And that was it; he had made the mistakes. Now came the recovery phase. Again. As if, just when it was all over, it came back again. He didn't know when it was wearing out. He didn't know what was happening. He hoped for a warm home coming and found the same disparate people; and did not make contact.

His own past, his own demise, kept replaying in a perpetual, tedious loop. Depressed people are not attractive. He wanted to rise up, and could rise up. But these shadows still haunted him; and always would. "He'll regret it for the rest of his life," someone said. As if his life would be short. He circled up the leaves; he gained tolerance; he made as if to arch back to a better time; and then forgot that too. May All Beings Be Happy. May All Beings Be Free. The sayings of the Buddha had become fridge magnets in some parts of the world; but still held power. They would always hold power. He would always be free. There would always be the power of the story; and that, in the end, was all there was. The story.