Plushy Buddhists

Plushy Buddhists. Of mutual respect and compassion there is no lack. After all, everyone devoid of gloom, is fond of everyone else. In Brahmaclouds hovering heavenwards, the Pure Land manifesting itself in and as the person. Only believe you must!

But woe betide anyone who dares to question their ideas. As bloodthirsty as Romanian werewolves on a full moon night, as impatient as American nuclear weapons shortly before the expiry date, they throw themselves into battle. Into a battle in which there can be no victory nor defeat.

The carpet bulging, the locker jumping wide open and tidying down the room. Where interior and exterior are made, where there is much light - out there, somehere, projected in one's mind -, it seems, there are also many shadows.

Plushy Buddhists. The spiritual cousins of Cuddle Christians. Are they a ticking time bomb, a danger to themselves and their environment, or is it just as it is?

Either way, that's OK I guess. For at the end of the day, as Leonard Cohen said, there is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.