How can one prevent a drop of water from ever drying up?
It wasn't until the end of the movie that we were given the answer:
By throwing it into the ocean.
I began to wonder... What is the drop and what is the ocean? If I am the drop (or if the individual/ego is the drop) then what is the ocean? Is the ocean samsara (the wheel of rebirth) or nirvana? Is the drop really the measure of something individual at all or is it just an illusion that can only be discovered when it's dropped into the ocean where it is no longer a drop but rather just the ocean? Is the ocean made up of millions and millions of drops or are all the drops simply part of one big ocean?
As I pondered, my mind went through many different images of drops and oceans. I imagined the ocean as a mass of drops, all separated and touching but not joined together. I believed this idea to be an illusion and then saw the ocean as one big homogeneous thing. Even breaking the water down into my visual concept of atoms didn't quite seem right. They were still individualized, separated, which I felt was still an illusion or "false view".
This particular train of thought was leading me to think that the ocean was meant to represent nirvana where there is no individual self. I wondered then how one would go about "throwing the drop into the ocean." Is it pointing to the path of the Middle Way? However, upon further reflection as I type this, I think to myself that if samsara is nirvana and nirvana is samsara, then the ocean is both. So, if we are already living in samsara, then we are already in the ocean.
I think I really have Buddhism on the brain because I just remembered a dream I had last night. I dreamt that I had shaved my head again. It was very strange because it was quite different from the last two times I've shaved it. Usually when I've shaved my head, I was thrilled about it but this time there was an element of sadness or maybe it was loss. I also remember a little bit of worry about what others would think, whether Jboy would still find me attractive, whether my friends would still think I was beautiful. I remember rubbing my hand over my bald head and feeling the familiar nakedness of it. It was bittersweet.
I wonder if I will do it again.