I've been back on campus for four days now. It's so deserted at times that I could do a full loop around the grounds in midday and not see a single other person-- only the soft green slope of hill past the football field stretching on into infinity. It's been a quiet few days, only periodic footsteeps overhead to break the tomblike silence of my gorgeous apartment.
I'm sitting in my bedroom now-- I've only unpacked the essentials. One box of clothing, my altar, my computer, two shelves' worth of my favorite books.
Few things adorn my ivory-laquered walls- one black and white shot of two bamboo chutes, another of an unfurling calla lily- they are labeled simplicity and beauty. Both feature short meditations by Tao Te Ching.
Simplicity
Manifest plainness.
Embrace simplicity.
Reduce selfishness.
Have few desires.
Beauty
Great indeed is the sublimity of the Eternal,
to which all beings owe their beginning
and which permeates all heaven.
I mostly agree, save having few desires. Desire is what makes us who we are, wether we wish for an oceanfront villa or yearn for the glistening cupid's bow of a lover's sumptuous lips. Wanting to the point of greed is not good, true, so I've reworded it in my head-- "be not greedy."
A cheaply-made scroll hangs on my door-- a wall menu for China Inn restaurant nearly two years out of date, kept for the beauty of the orange-splotched koi fish that swim upon it in a cerulean paper sea.
My room is lit softly by a strand of white Christmas lights carefully strewn about my window, and a glass candleholder throws out a patchwork of varicolored amber light. It's very comforting in its sparse elegance. I always try to make my room a place of warmth, and this room adds to the effect, right down to the faux-gold finish of the dome light above and the caramel laquer on the oaken desk and windowpane. It smells like vanilla tinged with berry.
Good night.
