Hologram Thoughts

There is a kingdom called Sukhavati, the Realm of Bliss, it is land of light and magic, prayer and chanting, knowledge and compassion.  Within it there dwells a young prince.  His wears regal bejeweled gowns, but they are no more distinguished than the next prince’s gown.  His crown shines in the light of the butter lamps, but no brighter than any one of his brother’s crowns.  He feels simple, he feels unremarkable.

Tonight he sits, quietly watching his tea steep.  Steam rises off the decorated clay pot, and the tea leaves slowly fall into the boiled water. His cup is ornately painted with a scene of bamboo and wind.  He closes his eyes, clears his mind.  Focusing on nothing he realizes that he is not alone.  From across the cavernous temple echoes the sound of an old monk,  slowly chanting to himself.  His tones are careful and sure, he has practiced for an eternity to learn the correct intonation, to make a true and correct offering.

Is that my lot in life? The young prince wonders to himself.  Am I destined to be an old man, alone, chanting to the empty temple in the middle hours of the night?

The chanting echoes one last moment, and a deafening silence encroaches upon the young prince’s ears.

“Sit tall, my young prince,” the old monk says quietly sitting directly before the young prince.  “Breathe a full, deep breath into your chest.  Within your chest beats a heart that has the energy of a million suns at its call.  In your veins there is a liquid flowing that is more precious than any molten metal, any stream or river.  Why do you not know your worth?”

Ashamed, the young prince looks down to the tea.  A second cup now sits besides his.  The second cup is a simple bamboo cup; no gilding, no paint, no jewels. Plain in every way.

“My cup is simple, you are right.” The monk closes his eyes and pulls his hands into his thick winter robes, protection from the night’s chill.  “But does it not hold the tea as well as yours?  Does it not serve me as well as your cup?  And if it is lost to me, or if it were to lay broken on the ground at my feet, could I not find another to take the place of this cup?”

The young prince watches the monk for a timeless moment.  He is familiar, he is known to the young prince, but he doesn’t know who he is.

“Does your cup not long to be adorned, monk?  Does it not wish to sparkle in the light, with jewels and metals?  Does it not want to be noticed?”

The monk pours tea in to the prince’s cup, and then in to his own.  He lifts his cup to his mouth, and breathes in the aroma of the tea.

“Does the lily wish to be a rose?  Does the lion wish to be a snow leopard?  What if I told you that there was once a flower that grew strong and tall out over a running stream, and that this flower wished to be a fish swimming in the water?”

The prince closes his eyes, seeing this flower in his head, and realizes that the flower is the fish.  The fish eats the flower and so then the flower becomes one with the fish.

The young prince opens his eyes to tell the monk, only to find himself sitting alone in the temple.  He looks down and sees his cup is gone, and in its place there is only a simple bamboo cup.

Bubbles race up and past me as I fall deeper into the dark below.  I should feel the water around me, crushing against me, but there is nothing – no wetness, no thundering, rushing sound in my ears; just the silence of disbelief.  This is not happening to me.

This cannot be happening, this is not reality.

I struggle and spin in place, fighting against the unseen current that is pushing me deeper into the chasms below, but this is futile, like a child against a whale, I am no match against this fate, this inevitability.  I scream out, a silent scream, begging for a hero to rescue me.

I see my father in my mind’s eye, his hand outstretched, his eyes tear-filled as his hand passes through mine and he is gone.  My mother kneels to pick me up, I am a baby again and I need her arms around me; comfort and safety is within her power… She is gone in a flash of green-blue light; I continue to fall, alone.

My eyes lose focus now, there is not enough light to see my own arms and hands before me, there is darkness and shifting shadows only.

Think.

I can hear my own voice within my head, that is reassuring for some reason.  As if I can spell myself to safety, back to my bedroom where moments before I had been laying on my bed, atop the covers, listening to my heartbeat and counting the pulses of light with my eyes closed.

This is within my mind, within me and me alone – only I am experiencing this, there is nothing to be afraid of.

I calm myself with these words, and The Deep takes offense.  The water around me explodes with power and ferocity.  Light flashes before my eyes; reds, yellows, whites, purples and blues – a collage of light, patternless and without shape, terrifying and then gone, I am returned to the darkness where I now dwell.

Moments pass, thoughts flicker and are gone before my mind can focus on them.  From moment to moment my mind races and is worthless to me.  Did I tell her that I love her?  Did I hug him when I tucked him in?  Did I say the right thing to a friend in need?  Was I someone that I would be proud of in the end?

A hand reaches out and I clamber to grasp it before I can even see the face to which it belongs.  I take hold of the offered wrist and pull myself close… I see my own face now, smooth skin where my eyes should be, no mouth, no ears – just fresh, pink and perfect skin.

He holds me, needing me more than I need him (me) and then he releases his hold, the current is too strong, I cannot hold onto him alone – and he is gone into the darkness, leaving me alone again.

No.

I pull my hands into my chest, my knees and feet hold steady, no more flailing about, no longer loose and akimbo.

I am in bed still, I am dreaming.

This thought calms me and I slow my breathing.  My breath.  I can breathe.  I am under water, why can I breathe?  This makes no sense anymore.

Calm yourself.  Be calm.  Debate this, where is the logic?

All sound is vibration.  All matter is energy, all energy is vibration, I am matter, I am energy and sound.  I am not asleep, I am not dreaming, I am a dream of me.

I am standing now, dry and warm, and there is a soft glow about me, as if candles burn within my body.  I can return to myself laying there upon my bed.  My body as a shallow breath, cool temperature and my eyes are open in thin slits.  I can return now… Or I can see the mountain top.  I can ask the question.  I can find out, finally know the Reason to the Why.

I take a step towards the mountain.

I had a dream last night that made me write this:

I see a future where the roads are self-healing
where the roads are a giant solar collecting grid spanning cities, states and nations
where every house is connected to the grid for free

I see a future that has cured disease with compassion and nature
where your doctor is worried about your health, not about your insurance
where the hospitals are places we meditate and pray, show kindness and love

I can see a future where no wars are fought over land, or food, or things
where nations have welcome centers, not detention centers
where borders are on maps, not fences or walls

I see a future where forests are treated like beings
where children can play in the rain
where grandparents are treated like treasures

None of this will happen unless we realize that there is no real difference between people in your family and people across the world. We are all suffering, we are all wanting the same thing for ourselves and our children; to be happy and safe, warm and dry, educated and heard. We want to have enough food so that our children don’t go to bed hungry, so that we don’t have to decided which child eats and which one has to wait.

As long as nations are run by people who profit from war, as long as companies control food and energy and medicines, as long as we sit by and offer no alternative; nothing can change.

Why would a company develop a road that collects the energy from the sun and then delivers that for pennies to your door? They won’t do that, no profit there. Why would a company cure the sick and dying in your backyard or the African Sahara? They won’t do that either, no money to make there. Cure cancer? No way. But, keep the cancer victim fighting his whole life, in and out of treatment, that is a good business plan.

I am no radical when it comes to politics, don’t misjudge my words. We don’t need a revolution in American politics, but rather a revolution in our hearts and minds, all across the world. If only we would act as if the man or woman we see was our son or daughter, our father or mother; how much better off would this world be? Would we transcend these wars? Would we feed the hungry and clothe the naked? Would we send bread instead of bombs if we were using our hearts, filled with understanding and compassion, instead of greed and hate?

I hope that revolution comes soon.