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2026年2月13日 星期五

We’re Learning to Appreciate Our Own Uniqueness

 

We’re Learning to Appreciate Our Own Uniqueness


A mature mind eventually learns to make peace with its own “weirdness.” Those strange thoughts that flash across your mind, the bizarre dreams you can’t explain, the sudden emotional waves that seem to come out of nowhere — they’re not flaws. They’re part of the wild, poetic nature of being human.

Instead of judging ourselves for these inner quirks, we start observing them with curiosity.

Psychology reminds us that thoughts are not commands. A random fantasy doesn’t mean you want to act on it. A dark thought doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. A sudden emotional spike doesn’t mean you’re unstable.

Often, these mental flickers are simply the mind stretching, testing boundaries, or releasing tension.

Think about it:

  • You imagine quitting your job dramatically — not because you’ll do it, but because you’re overwhelmed.

  • You picture a different life with someone you barely know — not because you’re disloyal, but because your mind is exploring possibilities.

  • You have a strange, unsettling dream — not because it predicts anything, but because your brain is processing stress.

  • You feel a sudden wave of sadness on a good day — not because something is wrong, but because emotions move like weather.

When we stop policing every thought and start welcoming them with gentleness, something shifts. We realise that imagination can sparkle like stars without needing to become reality. We understand that the real danger isn’t in having odd thoughts — it’s in shaming or suppressing them.

Repressed feelings don’t disappear. They twist, hide, and eventually disturb our peace.

But when we appreciate the complexity inside us — the contradictions, the fantasies, the moods, the creativity — we stop fighting ourselves. We stop wasting energy on self‑criticism. We learn to ride the waves instead of fearing them.

And in that acceptance, we find relief. We find freedom. We find the quiet confidence of someone who knows: my inner world is vast, and I don’t need to be afraid of it.

2025年6月7日 星期六

The Dance of Being and Unbeing: Heidegger, Death, and the Buddhist Mandala

 

The Dance of Being and Unbeing: Heidegger, Death, and the Buddhist Mandala

In the intricate tapestry of human existence, few concepts are as profoundly unsettling yet undeniably central as death. For centuries, philosophers and spiritual traditions have grappled with its meaning, offering diverse perspectives on how our finite nature shapes our lives. This article explores the intriguing parallels and distinctions between Martin Heidegger's philosophical concept of "being-towards-death" and the profound symbolism of the Buddhist mandala, particularly in its ephemeral nature.

Heidegger, a 20th-century German philosopher, famously posited that human existence, or Dasein, is fundamentally a "being-towards-death" (Sein zum Tode). For him, death is not merely a future event that happens to us, but an ever-present possibility that defines our very being. It is the ultimate and non-relational possibility of our existence, meaning it is something we must face alone and cannot be avoided or outsourced. This constant awareness of our mortality, according to Heidegger, is what can free us from the inauthentic "they-self" (being caught up in societal norms and distractions) and propel us towards authentic selfhood. In confronting our finitude, we realize the preciousness of our time and the urgency to make our lives truly our own. Death, in this view, is not the end of life, but a way of being that permeates every moment.

Turning to the East, the Buddhist mandala offers a rich visual and spiritual counterpart to these philosophical musings. A mandala, meaning "circle" in Sanskrit, is a geometric configuration of symbols used in various spiritual traditions, particularly Buddhism, as a tool for meditation and spiritual transformation. While often depicted as permanent structures in art or architecture, a particularly poignant form is the sand mandala.

Tibetan Buddhist monks meticulously create these intricate sand mandalas, often taking days or even weeks to arrange millions of grains of colored sand into complex patterns representing cosmic or divine dwellings. However, the most striking aspect of the sand mandala is its deliberate destruction. After its completion and a period of contemplation, the monks ritualistically sweep away the vibrant sands, often pouring them into a nearby body of water.

This act of creation and destruction embodies profound Buddhist teachings on impermanence (anicca). The sand mandala, despite its beauty and painstaking detail, is ultimately fleeting. Its dissolution serves as a powerful reminder that all phenomena, including our lives, are impermanent and subject to change. This impermanence is not something to be feared but to be understood as an intrinsic aspect of reality, leading to liberation from attachment and suffering.

While Heidegger's "being-towards-death" emphasizes the individual's confrontation with their unique finitude to achieve authenticity, the Buddhist mandala highlights the universal nature of impermanence. Both, however, underscore the significance of our limited time. Heidegger's philosophy urges us to live authentically because we are mortal, while the mandala encourages non-attachment and wisdom because everything is impermanent.

The ephemeral nature of the sand mandala can be seen as a visual metaphor for Heidegger's "death as a way of being." The moment the first grain of sand is laid, the mandala is already "being-towards-its-destruction." Its existence is inherently defined by its eventual dissolution. Similarly, our lives, from birth, are always "being-towards-death."

In conclusion, both Heidegger's profound insights into mortality and the timeless wisdom embodied in the Buddhist mandala offer powerful perspectives on our relationship with the end. While one is a philosophical framework for individual authenticity and the other a spiritual practice for universal understanding, they both invite us to embrace our finitude not as an ending, but as a fundamental aspect of our existence that can lead to deeper meaning, freedom, and wisdom.