Well, I must confess at the outset that I know little about Buddhism
(didn’t I say this already in the last post?). But I am a Buddhist. Why? Because I am.
I was conceived as a Buddhist. Long before I was born, long before I knew I was going to be born, long before there was such thing as ‘me’, I was already earmarked to embrace the Buddhist way of life. Karma? Maybe. If you believe me. No ceremonies and rituals marked by entry into the Buddhist world. In fact, I was pushed out into the world as a Buddhist.
The first breath of air, the first sight I saw, the first sound I heard, the first taste I relished, the first touch I felt, were beaming with Buddhist extravagance. No body, not even I, sanctioned Buddhism into my life.
But why am I a Buddhist? How am I a Buddhist? How much do I know about Buddhism? Am I Buddhist enough to be called a Buddhist?
Deep inside, somewhere, if Buddha Sakya Muni knew this, He might be labouring a sense of loss and sympathy for me, a mere sentient being, roaming endlessly in the Samsara.