Lobha adjusts the flowers on the balcony
- Dear group.
Just color, visible object. Sanna marks them, and the stories begin. Last year there were more, they were brighter. Dosa, sadness. I go to the garden center and stock up, escape from dosa the only way we know, through lobha. (And very very ovcasional moments of dosa understood, moments of panna arising the only way they possibly can, with alobha, uncontrollable, beyond greedy fearful intent.)
Back home, studying. I look up, visible object, vipaka of seeing. And them javana cittas rooted in lobha, with mana. The balcony garden is good now. Lobha has adjusted the variety and brightness of flowers the way lobha likes. And so life goes on and on, through samsara. Understanding is the only way out of greed and fear, rare moments of understanding conditioned by listening to the wise friend and reflecting patiently on the Buddha's words, without exploiting them.