It Is Like This
It is like this: the paper plane moves through the unclouded sky in what one might term the
perfect motion, because when you see it, you know that no deviation is possible, that whatever path it chooses is the right path, that the plane itself does not think or consider or ponder, but merely acts according to its nature, and flies.
It is like this: they were sent, I did not choose them, I take no responsibility for them, I bear no guilt for them. Four noble truths.
It is like this: he said that he loved me, that he admired me, that he never wanted anything except to be my follower. He said that they were unworthy of me. He did not truly see them. He did not truly see me. There is more to Hakkai than the death of a thousand youkai. There is more to Gojyo than crimson hair. There is more to Goku than the nature which he was born with.
It is like this: why do other people refuse to see? In the end, every self-delusion is deliberate and chosen. Whether it is a case of loving another person so much that you will kill a thousand people for their sake, or convincing yourself that you love someone else so much that the deaths are for their sake rather than yours. Whether it means believing that your hair and eyes mark you as accursed, or believing that dyeing your hair will alter what you are. Whether it means believing that I belong to you, or that you belong to me.
It is like this: I will not pity him for what he knowingly chose. I will not pity him for what he deliberately would not understand. Not because he does not deserve pity, but because pity in itself accomplishes nothing, and I will not delude myself by giving it.
It is like this: I said that he was not strong enough. He misunderstood me and proved his weakness with every subsequent act.
It is like this: I am not responsible. I told him. He did not hear me. I would not make him listen. Whose thunder am I, to crack the ears of those who will not hear? Whose lightning am I, to rip open the vision of those who will not see? Master, why did you do this to me?
It is like this: I never asked for anything except my Master. Now I have sutra, chakra, crown, gun, and everything except my Master.
It is like this: the paper aeroplane fell into the darkness as if there was something beautiful at the heart of the blood and the death. He wanted to lose himself in me. He got it partly right, at least; he lost himself.
It is like this: he was an asshole and I killed him.
It is like this: these three will not lose themselves, in their past, in the world, or in me.
It is like this: if you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him. If I try to explain to you, do not listen to me. The dharma that can be explained is not the true dharma.
It is like this: it is not like this. Shut up.
It is like this: I still do not know why the paper plane requires a clear sky to fly.