rising into worthiness

us as lotuses...

An Easter Reflection > I am writing this on Easter Sunday. A day that, symbolically and spiritually, marks the rising of the son — a rebirth, a return, a revelation. The perfect Jungian individuation. And as I sit reading a chapter from the Lotus Sutra, I find myself drawn into another kind of parable: that of the poor son and the rich father.

I used to think this story came from the Buddha himself, but today, I realised it was told from the point of view of four shravakas — four wise followers, children of the Buddha who had walked the path. And when I read it from their perspective, something shifted. It wasn’t a moral tale told from above; it was a memory, a lived story, shared from within the path.

This story could easily be mine.

I, too, ran away. I tested the world. I tried, I failed, I created, I let go. I followed the winds of possibility with the enthusiasm of a child and the despair of someone who didn’t quite believe they deserved to be at the centre of anything. My grandmother used to call me "stufadizza" — someone who gets easily bored, who drops things like a flag following the wind. I carried that word like a quiet indictment. Maybe I still do.

But there’s something else in that parable: the quiet dignity of the menial job, the silent discipline of someone who bends to the task at hand, 90 degrees, back aching, spirit low, but heart slowly growing.

At 50, I went back to college. From there, to university. Then a Master's. Now a PhD. Not because I had a grand plan, but because I needed to learn how to believe in myself. To sit with the task. To let meaning rise.

And now, here I am.

Not quite afraid of abundance or happiness anymore. Not quite ashamed of the desire for more. I used to think that wanting money, or a car, or recognition, made me a fraud — like a priest who preaches for the perks, not for the love. But now I realise it’s not the wanting that’s wrong. It’s the forgetting. Forgetting that the desire itself is not the end. That paleophenomenology, my work, my method, my offering, is not a means to an end. It is the end. And through it, others might find something, too.

There was a time, eight years ago, when chanting felt like a hollow act. Repetition without resonance. But that was before I had faith in myself. Before I believed I could ever be the person I was asking the universe to help me become.

Faith in oneself is the beginning. And without that, there is no path.

We are all children of the Buddha. We are all, in some way, bodhisattvas in waiting — teachers of worthiness, shepherds of potential. And when we take up the Buddha’s work, when we give from what we’ve earned, we don’t just help others rise: we make the Buddha live again through us.

So yes, the Land of Tranquillity is safe, silent, beige. But we are not here to stay safe. We are not here to settle. We are here to write the post-credits story. The Cinderella aftermath. The part where the real work begins.

Because enlightenment — if we want to call it that — isn’t a static crown. It’s a living challenge. And that Sunday evening, the theme of our discussion meeting was: "Set yourself a challenge! Test the truth of Buddhism now!" How beautifully synchronistic!

So here I am, setting myself a challenge: not to give up when things don’t move fast enough. Not to shrink back into silence when life doesn’t applaud. To send that extra email. To reach out. Write that extra blog. Keep going. Because you never know what’s waiting round the corner.

Maybe, just maybe, this time it’s not another dead end.

Maybe this time… it’s the door.

Happy After Easter, everybody

—

[with gratitude, reflection, and a few home-cooked eggs…]

onwards + upwards,

mat

#easter #lotussutra #nichiren #nmrk #discussionmeeting #goal