(5-97) Nirvana . . . oneness with the essence of all things.

Nirvana . . . is the end of the eight-fold path that Siddhartha, the founder of Buddhism, devised. It originated in the suffering and pain of Hindu India of the sixth century BCE. For the Hindu, heaven is not where suffering ends but an existence where the sufferer ends. The "atman," or soul of man, becomes one with the life-force Brahma. For Buddhism, release comes through enlightenment. The individual existence ends. Passions and individuality all gone. Nirvana is like a candle without a flame.

The language of Buddha is the language of the suicidal. Persons contemplating suicide are less interested in speculating about immortality or the terrain of the afterlife. Suicidal people just want to "end it all." Their feelings are of despair, not of hope. They focus upon the immediate negation of existence not in a future wondrous hope in a "new heaven and earth."

People normally prefer their metaphysical journeys to end with something better than nothing. So it was inevitable that Buddhism would also envision a Pure Land of great beauty and serene landscapes.

I myself prefer my inspiration to be not in the void of the barren walls of Zen sanctuaries but in the luxury of nature's glory and the mystery of love.

Of late I have developed a passion for the landscape and nature paintings of the Song Dynasty. These Chinese artists drew upon nature for its metaphysical and aesthetic powers. The art awakens a longing for another reality. For the Taoists, nature reflects the absolute way that Laozi preached. For the Buddhist, "back to nature" means going back to the cold waters of a stream and the tranquillity of the shade of a fig tree that enlightened the Great Buddha. Seeing the romantic mountainous grandeur of Kuo Hsi's "Early Spring," the personable faces of I Yuan-chi's "Monkey and Cats," and Wen Tung's Calligraphic "Bamboo," evokes in me what Western philosophers call "sehnsuhct". It is longing for another country, "a taste for the Holy other," an indication or shadow of the beauty of God's eternal kingdom.

I have enjoyed Wu Chengen's "The Journey West." After reading about the Monkey King for a 100 chapters and 36,000 miles, you don't want the Monkey King to be snuffed out in a Buddhist Nirvana. You even hope that Pigsy's selfish passions might be entirely tempered and transformed into an unselfish desire for virtue and beauty.

For the West's religious heritage, the taste for a "Pure Land" is also in communal moments of love and friendship. Images of the lost art of fatherly affection become parables of divine care. "The Song of Songs," a Hebrew erotic poem, becomes an allegory of God's passion for the Jew and foreigner alike. East and West meet in a new promised land. "People from every tongue and nation" dwell there and celebrate eternally in peace and in love. Jesus calls his disciples "friends" and presents a pageant of eternal life with images of weddings and eating and drinking with all classes and all peoples. Human love becomes emblematic of Heaven, the Pure Land of blessed love.

It is hard and boring to contemplate a future life of nothingness. Just as hard to contemplate an absolute God. It's a lot easier to think of eating jaozi and moon cakes as friends and family celebrate a spectacular Spring and Easter Festival. A lot easier and a lot nicer.