Movement Towards Padmasambhava

Here in the silence, I can hear the ticking of my watch. The gears move in precise rhythm. The tattoo of ubiquitous ticking gives me peace of mind somehow. It bathes me in a knowledge wholly mechanical but borne uniquely of an organic meme – life keeps going.

In the greater picture, I suppose that life is cyclic as well. We live from day to day, hustling in a work-week rhythm only to seek a slower pace (or faster) when it comes to managing our own time. We crave attention and satisfaction within and of ourselves to be happy. Sometimes it’s more than that though.

Happiness is not a destination, says the old texts, it is a journey. I understand the choice it takes to be happy. It takes the removal of the petty ego. It takes the ability to step back and see the great pattern. It takes the knowledge that this has all happened before and will happen again.

All in patterns.

Yes, playing different roles. I was the aggressor last time, you the bound. Three or four cycles ago, the roles were reversed. Prior to that there was no aggressor or victim. In that lifetime we just were siblings running from the coalescing powers that were destroying the world.

As I move through the gates and enter the Chikkhai, I remember seeing your lovely face. I remember the softness of your skin and the deepness of your eyes when we met the first time. I reflect upon all of the times we have met. I see you through the guises you wore and I miss all of them terribly.

I remember the paths we took throughout the wheel. I remember seeing you as the cat that came to me on the street corner in Fazul Prime. I remember being the cricket in the cage that you kept aboard the long flight from Kennedy Space Port. I remember them all.

Even now, I see you crying because we had to go through this permutation. I cannot focus on that though. I have to keep moving through the bardo. I have to push through. I need to get through the Chönyid next and I am not ready. I cannot move through the Chikkhai while I focus on you. You are a part of that world now, and I have moved on.

Such sadness moves through your face. Such twists. Such painful expressions. I want so much to tell you that we will meet again. I want to let you know that it won’t be that long until we shall see each other again in the physical realm. I won’t let you see me like this again though. This body has been worn out and its mind tattered.

You know how difficult the path was this time. Well, no you don’t. You don’t remember yet. You will on your own trip through the bardo. You’ll see why I had to walk the path. I have to carry the knowledge forward onto our next path. I promise not to leave you like this again.

Your hands reach towards me and I cannot hear your trembling words. I do see the crimson stain. I feel the water cooling in the bathtub. It pains me to see you this way. I feel the sharpness in my wrists. I want to hold you and let you know it’s going to be all right.

This is the path that I had to take this time. I needed to know the self-hatred. I needed to know the broken hearts and darkness. I needed to be the shattered glass needing desperately to be put back together.

It’s what I had to do this time and I am so sorry to leave you this way.

The gates of the Chönyid are before me now, love. I have to let out the breath and walk into the light. I will see you briefly in the bardo before pushing on through the transformation. The path before you is going to be harder than mine. You have to survive the suicide. You have to somehow put the glass back together without me.

You have the harder part. You’ve always been stronger.

I will see you soon.

What's in a name

"It's lovely to live on a raft. We had the sky up there, all speckled with stars, and we used to lay on our backs and look up at them, and discuss about whether they was made or only just happened. Jim he allowed they was made, but I allowed they happened; I judged it would have took too long to make so many. Jim said the moon could 'a' laid them; well, that looked kind of reasonable, so I didn't say nothing against it, because I've seen a frog lay most as many, so of course, it could be done. We used to watch the stars that fell, too, and see them streak down. Jim allowed they'd got spoiled and was hove out of the nest."
- Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain.