Articles by same author
As fuming smoke whirls around their faces, it takes on the flickering shapes of a myriad of demons who brush against them leaving slimy traces of spit and mucus. Black demons with crows’ heads, human bodies and iron wings fly nearby past, carrying naked writhing corpses in their iron beaks. Phosphorescent green owls with the faces of old women and talons of bronze hoot as they rip brains out of skulls. Vultures red as embers with bloody claws at the end of their muscular human arms pull the entrails from screaming people not yet dead.
Gesar is inspired by fearless compassion. Unafraid of chaos, he is able to uncover a path of wakefulness and harmony even in the most perilous and compromising situations. His unconditional commitment to others gives birth to the confidence that always uncovers spontaneous, precise and vital expressions of enlightened mind.
Determined that none who are born shall linger in the bonds of suffering, He is the protector of all children and carries a child in the crook of his right arm. He is the compassion of the Buddha, Inseparable from every form of life, The final liberator of all who suffer all the tortures of hell.
Here dwell the Earth Protectors and Rigdens, who rule over all Shambhala and radiate the heart of all true human law. Kalapa is a vast square with high bright ruby walls, surmounted by golden balustrades. Its four gates are made from sapphire, yellow diamond, ruby and emerald. Within the walls are the inner gates and courtyards paved with white opal. In the center, on a platform of pearl, is a great palace, the Kalapa Court.
As the lord of heart and mind, He wears gold earrings shaped like sea-dragons. His dragon-patterned brocade robe is turquoise. His sash is pale red like an early winter moon. In his right hand he holds a white lotus on which stands a crystal Vajra; In his left a silver bell. He sits on a glowing golden throne. beneath the rainbow-colored parasol of complete fearlessness, which is vast as the sky.
Now, without logic or consequence, sight, sound, smell, taste and touch, shine. Free from the limits of perceiver, perception or consciousness. This is the all-encompassing radiance of the cosmic mirror.
The births of all who dwell here are free of pain. Following the ways of their ancestors and the guidance of elders. They are raised according to the inner path of meditation, and cultivate the outer paths of art and warrior discipline. Their manner is dignified, direct and considerate, and their lives are untouched by sickness, hunger, unhappiness or poverty. Both men and women are true warriors, but live the lives of ordinary household.
Three contemporary Hungarian artists, Balint Szombathy, Aniko Robitz, and Minyo Szert have been exploring the worlds hidden within the surface of perceptual phenomena. In very different ways, using fixed images derived from photographic and telephotographic processes, they uncover and give us new and very different worlds.
The human world is cracking up. A century of warfare, genocide, destruction and want has severed men and women from their roots. They have no forbears, no folkways or culture, no past. Money has shredded all other values. The young wander in a phantasmagoria of luxurious diversions, violence, intoxication, constant novelty and hopelessness.
The pure and free expanse of shunyata is not reached by the contrived path of rejecting the world. The changeless radiance of Great Compassion is not reached by the fabricated path of clinging to good qualities.
The enchanted story of two sisters who became enlightened yoginis, filled with deep levels of meaning, retold by a contemporary American poet and writer. Excerpted from The Brilliance of a Naked Mind.
King Indrabhuti sat unmoving as the sun set, the moon rose and set, and the sun rose once again. Wordlessly and silently, an ocean of pure awareness opened to King Indrabhuti and expanded like an all-embracing mirror.
There are several lineages of transmitting realization alive today. The Indian master Tilopa is the forefather of many of them, especially those that combine inner yoga with a totally naked and open mind. Enjoy a eloquent and poetic story centered around this outstanding master.
It is said that Gesar of Ling has a peculiar effect on some people, letting beautiful literature pour out almost effortlessly and spontaneously. Douglas J. Penick is one of the inspired poets in whose creative mind, the episodes from the fabulous life of King Gesar unfold. Here is part one from The Brilliance of Naked Mind: Secret Visions of Gesar, King of Ling.
This play for children is designed to be easily performed with a minimum of rehearsal. There are readers who perform in various configurations, movers who enact the plot and musicians who improvise. It requires no set, just a dark room.
The LEVEKUNST Inner Theater presents a Performance Inside Your Mind. You are invited to read and imagine Stravinsky's music, performers, dance, sets, lighting, stage, theater, its city and world. Here is your free ticket.
Scheherazade knew a great truth: the telling and the hearing of stories, the exchange of tales and sagas is the deep breath of human life. Listening and telling are the inhalation and exhalation of human experience. We move, each day, on an ocean of stories, tales, jokes, reports elegies, confessions. We are sustained in our lives by unending narratives. It is the air we breathe.
Song rose in his heart as from a distant mountain spring. He joined his hands in prayer. He sang, and his song was like a life-giving river. He sang, and the sky shone with his melodious voice. Shine in the sky, O pearl pure Ganges. O pearl pure Ganges, O river of milk, O life of all, O river of blood, O love.
Trungpa Rinpoche gave particular emphasis to four rulers as exemplars of the spontaneous appearance of the Shambhala path: Ashoka Maharaja, Gesar, King of Ling, the third Ming Emperor, Yong Le and Prince Shotoku Taishi who was Regent of Japan. Trungpa Rinpoche referred to these four as the ancestral sovereigns of Shambhala.
They had obviously done this many times before. He fought as hard as he could, hitting and kicking, and screaming curses the whole time. But there were four of them, and his body though tall and imposing no longer had enough strength. In the end, they wore him down, lying on top of him on the dusty floor.
The stories and legends presented in the Shambhala tradition are not myths as such since we only refer to such material as myth when they no longer have any accepted credence. Rather, the stories of the four ancestral sovereigns are closer to the epic tradition.
We extend our sympathies far beyond the constraints of our time and place and individuality. Out of solitude and love, the deep bond of our sheer humanness brings us worlds.
The vision of Shambhala is not a vision of something seen, but rather a way of seeing and perceiving and acting in the context of the phenomenal world. The Kingdom of Shambhala is an innate and spontaneous longing to realize the freedom of the awakened state within the context of our existing social life.
This was fate, for several past lives ago, the Reverend Lo had, out of sheer curiosity, played hooky from his relentless line of virtuous incarnations and had ended up as the Little Ha-to be’s long ago German husband.
Douglas J. Penick's mini-novel begins with: Little Ha was, of course, herself the incarnation of an innumerable succession of beings. She had lived as a number of low ranking deities, the most distinguished of which was a river goddess near Nanjing whose shrine was ground to powder by the Red guards.
Share this Post