I have no questions for my teacher, and that is a very strange feeling. Normally I would want to spend as much time as possible with my teacher to unravel mysteries and contradictions of what I have learned about Buddhism. Form is emptiness, Emptiness is form. Self, no self. There is nothing to attain. Just be. There are no distinctions. These, and many more statements like them, are enough to make one’s head feel like a watermelon that had just been dropped from a tall building. But I enjoy solving these kind of riddles, I enjoy figuring out how the pieces of the puzzle fit together, and I enjoy solving the myriad of contradictions in Buddhist writings. So why now do I find myself with no questions for my teacher? Could I be so arrogant to think that I actually understand it all? Or at least understand that to which I’ve been exposed? Or am I a victim of the dunning-kruger effect in which I know so little I don’t even fully appreciate what I don’t know? To these questions I have no answers, and frankly I’m not terribly concerned. I do know that I enjoy continuing to learn and feeding my subconscious with different ways of looking at things so that new ideas can bubble up to the surface.
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