Buddhist Appetites In Beauty And The Beast Film

On the morning of my ninth birthday, I took my father aside and asked, "Dad is my father a milkman?" An insulting fable concocted from my siblings that, when living in Hawaii while my father was shipped to go fight in Desert Storm, my mother had an affair with the neighborhood milkman. The story was fashioned due to my dark complexion, which was not inherited by any of my siblings or parents. "No you’re my son." My father replied. "Then why do I look so different than everybody?” I rebutted. My father ended the conversation with, “You’re just a Mutt, just a garden full of all kinds of flowers.” My youngest sister laughed in the other room while indulging her obsession with the Beauty and the Beast film, it was the scene in which the Beast coddled …show more content…
The majestic poise inhabited by the Banyan has spurred speculation of its magical prowess in evident that Buddhist monks meditated under them for its shade gave them clarity, as well as numerous other mythologies which include the popularly told narrative of Uddalaka and his son Shvetketu. The fable is comprised of a son, in the audience of his father, claiming that he has acquired all the knowledge one is to learn. The father recoils by having the son examine the tiny seeds of the fruit of the banyan tree. "What do you see?" Uddalaka questioned. "Tiny seeds, father," replied Shvetketu. "Do you see anything inside?" asked Uddalaka. "No! There is nothing there," responded Shvetketu. "If there is nothing inside," said Uddalaka, "Then how can such a tiny seed give rise to this huge Banyan tree? That, Shvetketu, is the Atman, the essence of all things. The Atman pervades the universe, and, my son, you are a part of that …show more content…
I was too young to remember Hawaii, before I uttered my first words my parents moved us from the tropical paradise all the way south to a back watered country town, Quinlan, Texas. I used to live through a "What if I stayed in Hawaii?" parallel life every night in bed. The sun would always be shining, tan skinned natives with tribal tattoos would catch the waves with me every weekend and I would ride my bike home every day after school, wave at neighbors at the market buying melons of all kinds and colors and holler "Hey kuz!" at anyone I knew. My roots, my true purpose in life stayed in Hawaii. On the day of my college graduations, as a form of congratulations, my parents presented me with a passport. With it, I revisited my homeland Hawaii in the form of a six-day vacation. My father used to claim I was tailor made for Hawaii, said that there I slept so easy and in Texas I was constantly