Last night dreaming of Pelchen Barwa Tumchen Gyel (Glorious, blazing King of Great Wrath - the name of Dorje Trollo in the sadhana of the great heruka by Do Khyetnse Yeshe Dorje.) A wandering rag-clad beggar stopped me on the road and said, “Just this looking and not finding is it! Now gaze directly into the irrelevance of all your concepts.” Of course these kind words, and kind of words, are the playfulness of our only father Padmasambhava.
In the dream, as he spoke, I was suddenly looking through, seemingly indestructible, prison bars made of the forged iron of concepts and the prison itself was an enormous house of cards built from polarities and opposites one leaning against the other. The beggar, who was standing outside the bars, dissolved into untraceable sunlight whose rays and droplets were like a magic key.
Sunlight infiltrates behind the prison bars of mind’s functioning and unlocks door, windows, even floors and ceiling - unmakes designation, destination, localizability ... and wonderment watches as thematic rendering collapses like a house of cards.
Abiding implies place and thing but what if there were nothing to prove as “found” and no “one” to have looked for it. This would surpass intellect’s confines, unravel the tight rope knots of politicized tradition.
As consideration relaxed in expanse, I could hear the beggar’s laughter and caught the last words of a phrase, “Who can place the first utterance “A” in a straight jacket? Who can sell tickets to nothingness?”
Empty awareness drifting from nighttime’s luminous domain into daytimes illusory appearances - no-thing to no-where (nobody offspring of no-one) - the sound of my child, waking to go to school, meets ear and the union of bodhisattvas begins. Foot meets floor and Reality’s totality, collected into a lump, dissolves into the ultimacy of symbolic pregnance. A la la the happy day.