Renunciation

During the early summer of my life, I thought I might like to try and settle down. I desired a wife who would care for me in my old age and children to carry on my name after I passed away. I pretended that since I knew the ways of the world I could thereby make it a better place by altering my circumstances. I acted in ways expected of me. I acted out of a desire arising from my ego, not out of any sense of the heart. I thought by renouncing my wild ways I could become a good man.

I bought a fine home. I filled it with expensive furnishings. I lay awake at night wondering how I would pay for it all. I bought costly stereo equipment and antique vases a thousand years old and ancient rugs woven in Persia before the advent of writing. I lay awake at night listening for the sound of breaking glass a burglar might make attempting to steal the treasures I had amassed.

I spent my days working a job I hated for a man I detested. I got up to go to work before my family arose in the morning. I didn’t come home again until they were all in bed at night. I went days without seeing my wife and my children. I pretended it was all necessary. I rationalized my absence by providing my family an enormous paycheck each month.

Often times instead of going home to my family after a long day at work I went to a tavern. I drank liquor with my coworkers until the bartender turned on all the lights brightening my darkened eyes while announcing it was closing time. When I finally went home like a stumbling ghost to the tender arms of my wife I couldn’t make love to her in my drunken state. My shame only caused me to drink more.

As time went by I discovered pamphlets lying about the house that told how to deal with alcoholism. Picking them up and reading them I noticed someone had checked off all the signs that the family was dealing with an alcoholic. I wondered who brought these pamphlets into the house and just who the alcoholic was that they were worried about.

Early one morning tumbling into my home after a night of drinking I found she was gone. Calling out for her she didn’t answer. Peering into her closet I could see all her clothes were missing. Going to my children’s room I saw she had taken them with her.

I knew where she went but rather than following after my family I renounced them. I told myself I was a rock. I needed no one. I was better off alone. What had I been thinking in taking a wife? Why did I believe I could ever raise a child?

I was wild and young. Now I am settled and old. Though I thought I was making choices I was being led about by desires that had no meaning behind them. By not understanding the implications of my actions I forged a circle of iron to separate me from that which I desired and from those whom I loved.

I grew angry at the world for the wrongs it heaped at my feet. I told myself those people had no right to cause me all this terrific suffering. When I wailed at the sky it did not hear. When I bellowed at the earth it rolled on as silently as if I did not exist.

Though I raged for years all my efforts failed at forcing the world into bowing to my desires. By acting from my desires and not from my heart my intentions turned on me. Instead of granting me happiness, they became my hell.

By renouncing my desires and cultivating a sense of the mystery I give up the world and gain myself. The mountains and the valleys make me joyful and glad but before the joy is ended sadness comes and succeeds to it. When sadness and joy approach I cannot prevent their coming. When they go I cannot keep them. I know what it is that I meet but I do not know what I do not meet. I use what power I have but I cannot be strong when I am powerless.

I cannot avoid such ignorance and powerlessness. That I should try to renounce it is a sad thing indeed. Ideal speech is to put the words away. Faultless action is to put achievement away. To grasp all the information that is celebrated is a thing to be reviled.

By giving up the great pretense of naming the mystery, I make things a hundred times better for everyone.

By giving up kindness and renouncing morality, my family discovers their natural obligations. Though I know we’ll never again be together they love me as I love them.

By giving up on my ambitious ways and renouncing profit, I banish the thieves and the bandits into the wilderness of their own desires.

These three renunciations are merely outward forms of the great mystery. They are nothing in themselves. I come to know it is more important to see the minimalism behind these outer forms.

By stilling my thoughts I give up selfishness and temper my desires.