Chickens in a basket

Chickens in a basket

There is a Russian story.

In a big basket are many chickens.

One by one, a butcher is picking up chickens and slashing their necks.

Cut-off heads fall back into the basket, and their bodies are removed for further process.

Blood is spilling and splattering all over.

Chickens in the basket are fighting to feed on this spilled blood.

All the chickens are fighting with each other, trying to hide and avoid being picked by the butcher.

But picked up they are, one by one.

There is chaos all around in the basket.

Chickens are screaming and clamoring

Ultimately, one by one, all chickens are finished.

No chickens remain.

All the noise is gone.

An eerie silence comes over the basket as if chickens never existed.

The basket is the Sansar.

We are the chickens.

Death is a certainty for all of us.

Yet we don’t wake up; we conveniently continue disregarding this obvious truth.

We keep fighting for world resources, even at the cost of others.

We are busy with these worldly pleasures and never wake up from their mesmerism.

Our desires are always burning.

“If not today, tomorrow they will be satisfied.”

With this mental setup, we keep living, until – a day comes which has no tomorrow.

That day, death grabs us, and our imaginary world collapses.

The time is NOW to end all our desires and sacrifice them into the feet of divinity.