Buddhism for Beginners

Colour of Mocha is in dedication to my caramel (or mocha) complexion. I have the best of everything. I’m not pasty, I don’t burn very often and you won’t lose me if someone was to turn the lights off. Wait, was that a bit risqué? Probably - but if someone said it on TV, or had even tweeted it, nobody would even bat an eyelid, right? Screw it.

My last blog was used to record my failed hobby of cooking and weight loss and my attempt at being the perfect happy-go-lucky housewife to my 22-year-old boyfriend.

To be honest, that probably isn’t really me. I’m a 21-year-old (whom feels around 16-19, depending on who I’m with and how patronising they are. Just like a teenager, I am still constantly full of angst and a bag of nerves) ex-policing student whose higher education has practically consisted of undoing everything I thought of the police, and teaching me to hate our justice system and everyone in it, all whilst reassuring the already cynical me to trust nobody. From day one we were taught the policing ‘ABCs’ – Assume nothing, believe nothing and challenge everything. Well, happy-go-lucky didn’t really stand a chance, did she?

Recently I’ve been attempting to really try and find myself. I’m disappointed, almost angry, that I’ve not seen 99% of the world, but instead I’m in debt because I wasted 3 academic years learning that anyone in authority probably doesn’t deserve to be there. My dreams don’t match up with my monthly payslip and right now I’m stuck serving popcorn to kids and their ungrateful parents at the local multiplex cinema, whilst I see all of my undergraduate (and other) friends achieving their dreams and using social media to make sure that the whole world knows about it.

This attempt to find myself was initiated by finally taking some pride in my appearance, giving myself damn awful manicures, starting to slim down a little bit and by buying better clothes as soon as I had enough money to take the opportunity to do so. But I’m starting to feel that it might run a little bit deeper. 

I’ve caught myself (agnostic, often bored by my religious peers thanking Jesus for their food instead of the poor bastard who raised the meat and grew the vegetables) thinking about religion. I’ve felt as though I need some guidance that goes beyond asking friends and family and pleading to strangers on Twitter to help me sort my life out. My magic number 8 ball had broken and been thrown out with the rubbish years ago and I thought it was about time that I had replaced it. About time that I find something to give me an extra pat on the back, a point in the right direction. At this point, I would glance at the cuckoo clock tattoo on my leg and believe that it was a significant and relevant statement, I really am going crazy. The feeling just had would not subside, so today, I took the plunge and mentioned it to my boyfriend, who kinda just laughed/shrugged it off. Sensing my annoyance, he suggested that I pick a slightly less nonsensical religion than Christianity and that I look into Buddhism. I have previously thought about Buddhism, way back when and I had dismissed it as too much hard work. The mandala tattoo on my arm suggests that I at least find the artwork and symbols associated with Buddhism and culture in other countries at least aesthetically pleasing, and the almost uncanny resemblance that I have to that jolly little fat man has gotten me thinking again. I think I might do some homework… 

(Plus, they probably have the right idea thinking that we reincarnate. It’s said that we see a light when we die. I bet those hospital lights were pretty bright when you were born, why else would we spend the first two years of our lives not doing much more than sleeping and eating? We all deserve a break.)