let me tell you a story. it’s sad. you’ll cry. a comedy of errors, mistakes on all sides, none benefit.
there are three clowns. once upon a time, they traveled together. but that was a long time ago. still, they have not completely forgotten one another’s names. yet.
clown 1 is trying to do something nice for clown 2.
it is goal clown 1 has had for some time, but they are impeded by their own unskillful means.
in this scene, clown 1 gets an email asking if they wish to give a thing to which they have attachment to clown 3.
clown 1 permits the poison of anger and fear to spill over, but, trying to staunch it, chooses to ask for confirmation rather than assume. still unskillful, but at least motivated toward good. they write clown 2 and ask for an explanation.
clown 2, realizing the enmity between clown 1 and 3, offers an alternative recipient and disclaims any knowledge of how the thing to which clown 1 is attached becomes a focal point in things.
clown 1 replies and insists the gift will only be given to clown 2. aversion to clown 3 makes even the thought of their involvement a thing that renders the giving impossible.
clown 2 visits the thing to which clown 1 is attached and, therein, finds several notes of anger and pain. not noticing they are a small part of a much larger item, their aversion renders the thought of interaction with clown 1 impossible.
clown 2 decides clown 1 is merely ‘trying to cause trouble’ between clown 3 and themself.
clown 2 angrily lashes out at clown 1, saying clown 3 is loved, clown 1 is not, and that clown 1 should simply go away. they name the gift a tainted, poisoned thing and refuse it.
clown 1, faced with how their own aversion creates aversion, at last realizes they are not benefitting clown 1 or clown 3 and, finally, accepts what is and lets it go.
clown 3’s aversion leads them to take the opportunity to hang a small sign of triumphant victory in a place where it is known clown 1 will see it.
but the ultimate sadness of the failures of all three are demonstrated by karma herself.
arriving home, clown 1 finds a small note in the mailbox saying the error that made it seem clown 3 was attempting to steal something was, in fact, the fault of another… a truly impartial third party.
so sad.
3…2…1… fade to black. sound of three voices, sobbing quietly in the night.
the reality of unskillful means cannot fully be expressed, only felt.
perhaps clown 1 will become more skillful with practice. but until they are, it is better to end what only creates more pain for others. it is better to obliterate that which only seems to create and nourish aversion.
it is all the fault of clown 1, of course. the obstructions of their poisons only contributing to inflaming them in others.
i weep for them all. om benza sattva hum.