Dinosaurs, Asteroids, and Inner Kingdoms

Men look at the bones and the rock, and they debate 'thriving' or 'decline.' 

These are the diseases of the mind.

I say to you, the Great Way holds no preferences. 

It does not prefer a world of giants over a world of dust. 

The giants built their house on the sand, and in one instant—which is eternity—the rain descended, the floods came, and it fell.

Do not lay up your treasures on earth, for they will pass away. 

Seek first the Inner Kingdom, which neither moth nor rust nor falling stone can destroy.

The Rock and the Falling Stone: A Reflection on True Treasure

(The speaker steps forward, holds the short text, and reads it slowly, with calm authority.)

"Men look at the bones and the rock, and they debate 'thriving' or 'decline.' These are the diseases of the mind. I say to you, the Great Way holds no preferences. It does not prefer a world of giants over a world of dust. The giants built their house on the sand, and in one instant—which is eternity—the rain descended, the floods came, and it fell. Do not lay up your treasures on earth, for they will pass away. Seek first the Inner Kingdom, which neither moth nor rust nor falling stone can destroy."

(The speaker places the text down and looks out at the people, pausing for a moment before speaking.)

Peace be with you.

We are fascinated, are we not, by the dinosaurs? We dig up their bones, monumental relics of a world we can barely imagine. We look at a T-Rex skull and we feel a little thrill of... what? Awe? Fear?

And perhaps, a little bit of smugness.

We look at those "giants" and we see a story of failure. They were so big, so powerful, so dominant. They "thrived." And then, in one instant, a "falling stone" from the sky, and it was all over. They built their house, the entire house of their species, on the sand of worldly dominance. And when the flood came, great was its fall.

It’s a good story. We like it because we, of course, are the ones who came after. We are the clever ones, the adaptable ones, the ones who inherited the earth. We are the ones who are "thriving."

And our little reading today looks at this human tendency—this obsession—and says, "These are the diseases of the mind."

The debate itself, "thriving" or "decline," is the sickness. Why? Because it is rooted in the deepest, most subtle, and most powerful of all human habits: preference.

"The Great Way is not difficult for those who have no preferences." But we have them, don't we? Oh, do we ever. We prefer thriving. We despise decline. We like stock markets that go up and dislike ones that go down. We like being healthy and dislike being sick. We like our political party and dislike the other one.

Our entire inner life is a storm of "like" and "dislike." And the Hsin Hsin Ming, that great poem of the Way, tells us plainly: "Like and dislike are the diseases of the mind."

Why a disease? Because it is the source of all our anxiety. To live in preference is to live in fear. If you have built your identity on "thriving," you are in a constant, low-grade panic about "declining." You have built your house on the sand. And you know the sand is shifting. You can hear the rain in the distance.

You check the news, you check your bank account, you check your social media, you check the mirror—all of it is just a desperate, fearful question: "Am I thriving? Or am I declining? Is my house safe?"

This is not freedom. This is not peace. This is the very definition of being a prisoner. The giants built their house on the sand of external power. We build ours on the sand of external validation. It is the same sand. And the same rain is falling.

The world's wisdom traditions have all pointed to this one, central problem. The blessed Buddha Shakyamuni, sitting under his tree, saw it with perfect clarity. He named it in his First Noble Truth: Dukkha. Life, as we usually live it, is suffering, friction, unsatisfactoriness. It is the anxiety of the house on the sand.

And where did he say this Dukkha comes from? He named it Tanha: grasping, craving, thirsting. It is our attachment to our preferences. We are attached to "thriving." We are attached to form—the form of our bodies, the form of our bank accounts, the form of our reputations. The Buddha’s core message is a diagnosis: the problem is not the "falling stone." The problem is your attachment to a world without falling stones. The problem is your preference.

This is a profound insight. But it can lead to a misunderstanding. Does it mean we should do nothing? Does it mean we just sit back, detach from everything, and let the house fall down around us?

Here, the wisdom of the Bhagavad Gita offers a brilliant path forward. We see the warrior Arjuna on the battlefield. He looks at the army opposite him and sees his cousins, his uncles, his teachers. And his mind screams in preference. "I cannot do this! This is not 'thriving'! This is 'decline'!" He wants to run.

And his guide, the Lord Krishna, does not pat him on the head and say, "You're right, let's go get some tea." He looks at him with divine love—and perhaps a little humor—and says, "Your duty is to act, Arjuna. But you have no right to the fruits of your action."

This is the great teaching of Nishkama Karma—Wisdom in Action. Act, but be unattached to the outcome. Engage in the world, build your house, fight the good fight, love your neighbor, but do not—do not—chain your inner peace to the result.

Do you see the beautiful path these traditions lay out for us? The Buddha says: Your suffering comes from being attached to the outcome of "thriving vs. decline." Krishna says: Therefore, act in the world, but sever your inner attachment to that outcome.

And this is precisely where our own teaching comes into focus, merging these two streams. This is the teaching of the Rock.

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy..." "Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven..." "Whoever hears these sayings of mine, and does them, I will liken him to a wise man who built his house on the rock."

What is this "rock"? The rock is the Inner Kingdom. The rock is the part of you that is not subject to outcome. The rock is the "Great Way" itself, which "holds no preferences."

The foolish man builds his house on the result. "If I get the promotion, then I will be at peace." (Sand). "If my children are successful, then I will be happy." (Sand). "If my political party wins, then the world will be safe." (Sand).

The wise man builds his house on the rock. He still works for the promotion, he still raises his children, he still participates in the world. But his peace? His treasure? His identity? That is not on the table. That is not up for negotiation. That is hidden with the One, in the Inner Kingdom, "which neither moth nor rust nor falling stone can destroy."

This is not an abstract spiritual idea. This is the only practical way to live.

We are living in a civilization of giants. Our towers are taller, our power is vaster than anything the dinosaurs could have dreamed of. We are masters of the external world. And yet, look around. We are drowning in anxiety. We are paralyzed by division. We are terrified of the "falling stone"—which for us might be an economic collapse, or a natural disaster, or a political war.

We are giants, and we are living on sand.

Look at the news this past week. You will see, as you always see, giants yelling at each other from across a great divide. Each side is convinced that their way is "thriving" and the other way is "decline." Each side has built its entire identity on its preference. "I am right, and you are wrong." "My thriving depends on your decline."

This is the definition of the plank in your own eye. And I say to you, "Blessed are the peacemakers." But you cannot be a peacemaker "out there" until you have first found the place of peace "in here"—the place that is "poor in spirit," the place that is empty of the need to be right.

The Great Way does not prefer your nation over their nation. The Great Way does not prefer your political party over theirs. This is a hard teaching. It feels like a betrayal of your tribe. But it is the only teaching that leads to the rock. Until you find that place of non-preference within yourself, you are just another giant, standing on sand, shouting at the rain.

So, what is the practical application? It is this:

The work is not to stop the asteroids. The asteroids will always come. The rain will always fall. The floods will always rise. That is the nature of form. All forms change. All forms pass away. The dinosaurs pass away. Our civilizations will pass away. Your body will pass away.

The work is to stop building your home on sand.

When you feel that knot of anxiety in your stomach as you watch the news... that is the feeling of sand. When you feel that hot flush of anger at someone who disagrees with you... that is the feeling of sand. When you feel that cold dread of "what if I lose my job?" or "what if I get sick?"... that is the feeling of sand.

In that very instant, you have the choice. You can double down. You can build your sandcastle higher, yell louder, and live in terror.

Or, you can stop. You can breathe. And you can see the preference. "Ah. There it is. Like and dislike. The disease of the mind." You can let go of the need for the outcome to be a certain way. You can shift your treasure, right in that moment, from the external circumstance to the internal kingdom.

That place in you that is watching the fear, but is not lost in the fear? That is the rock. That place in you that sees the anger, but does not become the anger? That is the rock. That "pure in heart" that sees the One Way beneath the two opposites of "thriving" and "decline"? That is the rock.

Seek that first. Find that kingdom. Build your life there.

Then, from that place of unshakable peace, you can go out and do the work. You can build, you can love, you can serve, you can even fight—but you will do it as the rock, not for the sand.

The dinosaurs were magnificent giants. But they were temporary. Do not be a giant on the sand. Be as humble as the dust, and you will find you are the indestructible rock.

"Words! Words! The Way is beyond language." Let us be still for a moment, and find that rock.

(The speaker bows.)

Peace be with you.