Manopubbaṅgamā dhammā, manoseṭṭhā manomayā,
manasā ce paduṭṭhena bhāsati vā karoti vā,
tato naṁ dukkham-anveti cakkaṁ va vahato padaṁ
Manopubbaṅgamā dhammā, manoseṭṭhā manomayā,
manasā ce pasannena bhāsati vā karoti vā,
tato naṁ sukham-anveti chāyā va anapāyinī.
(Yamakavaggo, Dhammapada verses 1 and 2)
——
All experience is preceded by mind, led by mind, made by mind.
Speak or act with a corrupted mind, and suffering follows
as the wagon wheel follows the hoof of the ox.
All experience is preceded by mind, led by mind, made by mind.
Speak or act with a peaceful mind, and happiness follows
like a never-departing shadow.
(Translation by Gil Fronsdal, 2023.)
It is a rare thing to pray for shadows. We usually pray for objects themselves on which light would shine upon which casts upon shadows. We may not pray for shadows, but they come in all the things that we might ask or hope for. More likely perhaps, is a prayer that is said under shade, in those spaces where light is blocked.
Wind has now been dancing under sunlight that is getting warmer and warmer by the day. Sometimes, when the sun is too bright, shadows become elusive. Be at the right place at the right time and one’s shadows cease completely, at least for that very moment. Even so, the knowledge remains that there would always be a shadow somehow, given how light and matter work.
In the second verse of the Dhammapada, it is said that bliss or happiness follows a ‘pure consciousness’ like a shadow that never leaves. To describe the concept of bliss like a shadow seems paradoxical—why is it something so… dark? Why not the light itself?
Bliss, happiness, joy, goodness—these things we might look towards as though they are the sun from which light comes and through which life is cultivated. Yet if that is the case, then what sort of shadow comes from them? Basking in the sun, what sort of shade can be formed? More goodness, like a never ending cycle of seeking good after good?
This verse from Dhammapada describes the experience of existence—those things one does, feelings one feels, words that one says—as more consequent, rather than a causality on its own. What we experience—the dhammā—what we can cognise, are not some causes and some effects. Rather, they all are subject to that which precedes words and actions.
To pray for shadows may not be so rare after all: this whole time, we have been praying for shadows. Bliss, happiness, joy, goodness—these are not the light, the divine source we make them out to be. They are as derivative as sadness, agony, desperation, emptiness. They are all shadows, and the light is more elusive than we make it out to be. We cannot escape from this light, though we might try to hide under the shade of our experiences; yet we also cannot call upon it ourselves, for it seems to disappear when we seek it. It does not disappear: even the storms are formed by the makings of the sun. The sun stays in its place and it is the temporal things that distort the vision of those who can only perceive.
It may seem strange to pray for shadows, but it might be the only case possible. To pray for shadows is to have faith there there is the light. They are not opposites: there can be light without shadows but not shadows without light. One is a grace of the other. To say such a thing, I believe, is also to believe in the perpetuity of light. We need not ask for light, for despite the storms and nightfalls, we know that it remains. We do not need to see it to know it is beyond our perception. For can only perceive the changing winds, the varying temperatures and brightness, the seeming passing of time. From something else all these come.