Knowing and not knowing

Two frogs - one from Kyoto and the other from Tokyo - set out to explore the world beyond their ponds. After days of weary travel, they met atop a mountain. Curious about what lay ahead, they decided to peer over each other's shoulders to get a glimpse of the world beyond. But in doing so, their eyes - set on the sides of their heads - made them see only where they came from, not where they wished to go. Determining that it was just not worth the trouble after all, they made their way back to their own ponds, assured that the world was not different from the one they knew. This anecdote is representative of a classical Sanskrit thought, adnyanat sukh - happiness born of ignorance.

Adnyanat sukh is a shallow, fragile peace born from not knowing. The one who does not see the storm sleeps soundly; the one who awakens cannot. A paradoxical idea is that of Avidya, mis-knowing, the veil that hides the fundamental nature of existence. Avidya, contrarian to adnyan, is active misperception - the force that makes us see the unreal as real, temporary as eternal, and limited as limitless. It's the quiet mind that feels safe only because it does not know the truth. Once awareness dawns, this comfort vanishes - replaced first by disturbance, then by true understanding: Vidya.

One is the ache of seeing, the other the ease of sleep - both dwell beneath the same veil, and we, like the frogs, often cling to comfort, fearing that in seeing clearly, we might lose the illusion that keeps us happy.