Traditions

Humans need to gather and share,
To experience their togetherness.
All collectives have rituals and traditions.
Some inherited, some created,
All infused with the soul:
Without it, it remains just an empty cloth
Collecting dusty thoughts.
Traditions are a transmission
Of gates and tools
Towards a sense of communion.
So many forms and colors,
So many ways to share a sense of direction,
An untold meaning.
That unfolds in a powerful burst of Joy,
Or in the solemnity of beauty and tragedy.
Traditions may just be an excuse to meet,
And that’s fine, then their purpose is filled.
But too many fell under the grip of consumerism
While some got rotten in the mud of conventions.
Life is alive,
So should traditions be!
We don’t care for dead rituals,
We care for the Primordial Tradition:
The paths toward enlightenment and inner peace,
The gates of the new life, here, now,
Like we’ve always been told,
Deep down in our cells, in our souls.
Our bodies should not be a jail,
But a learning vehicle.
Its expiry date is an indication of its function.
There is not much to take away from Matter,
But an experience of love and fear,
Of Joy and sadness,
Madness and wisdom,
Emptiness and bliss.
Many traditions can help us on the way.
Many can lure us down a wrong path
With their shiny patterns, fancy mottos, and cheering crowds.
The same path may help one of us and lose the other.
Each one his own way,
That’s how we should meet.
Each one his own relation to traditions,
That’s how we celebrate.