(Sequel article of A Conversation with a Mangku)
Kendrick strolled along the sandy beach, sat on a rugged chair, and mused over his life.
Am I on my way to the moksa? Can I say that? Or does it only belong to the Hindus?
If I could only find my moksa because I'm Hindu, what about many people who are searching for God? Do they have their own practices which are at the end will only lead into another term of moksa or are they different? But, if there are many different concepts, there wouldn't be many of You, right? There is only one God, the Creator of the Universe. He mused.
"Oh God, what should I do? Maybe I should seriously begin my meditation. Things are just getting more confusing," he mumbled.
The more Kendrick thought about everything, the more perplexed he became.
Kendrick gazed at a modest woman selling the beach clothes with a bamboo basket and a small child wearing humble clothes. He was dazzled.
There were many differences in terms of wealth. Some people were very poor and others were amazingly rich. Why are there so many differences in our life?
Why do some people deal with so many difficulties in this mortal coil when others seemingly live their lives easily? Is it karma? Or is there another reason? Did some people come to this vain world destined to suffer? Can they change their destiny? Is it we who really should decide our own future or is it merely in God's hands?
If it's solely in God's hands, then what about our effort? Will it be justified that people taking too much leisure and simply bestowing their faith in God's will?
All right, all right. I know the term ora et labora. Pray and work. So, it must be the combination of two. But then, what can we do if we have already prayed hard, burned ourselves out but don't get an answer on what we are looking for? He pondered.
Kendrick looked over the moving ridge on the ocean. He inhaled the air deeply and took out his diary from his brown backpack.
God, in my search for You, so far I only became more baffled. I knew that not all people were confused like me. I could see from the Mangku's radiant eyes when talking about faith that he had found the ultimate essence of his life but God, I'm still not convinced. My heart was still trembling inside and I took that as a sign that I haven't found what I was looking for.
Tomorrow, I'm going to begin my meditation class. I hope all the ears inside my heart were on and widely opened to the inner voice yearning.
Kendrick smiled, put his diary back to his backpack, and slowly stood up.
Author: Damien Dematra
He is a novelist, writer, painter, and photographer.
www.damiendematra.com
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