sometimes, the timing of things just floors me.
just the other day, i was feeling down at having missed the chance to visit with Garchen Rinpoche. today, tonight in fact, i find my root lama is coming to my home town… next weekend!
i remember first hearing someone talk about their root lama and thinking it odd the level of reverence and outright devotion that infused their voice. and now, in this moment, not only do i understand it, it lives here.
it’s odd. i have meet with my root lama precisely twice in ‘real space’. but i have met with him many times indeed in dreams. i suppose that will sound odd. it isn’t. i can’t really explain it, but as someone who doesn’t lie and with every sinew of being, i tell you, i have met with this man in dreams.
he speaks to me of so many things. always so kindly. always with understanding. always with honesty and a honed compassion that just… takes my breath even as it restores it.
so much of recent events would have seen me completely set off from any sense of peace or balance, but for the steady, insightful, utterly tranquil presence of him.
you’d have to know how completely ‘independant’ a person i am to understand what a ‘stand on your head and hoot at the moon’ kind of statement that is, to be coming from me.
he has counseled me on so many things, and in every case, that counsel has proven time and time again to be a right thing. i am so thankful and so humbled and so blessed to have such wisdom poured upon me. it just sets me in the dust. happily so, if that makes sense.
for the first time in my life, the sense that there truly is a way to alleviate a suffering that has dogged my steps for almost as long as i can recall. balm. such wonderous, tender balm.
recent events were so deeply hurtful that it was hard to breathe for it. so much practice devoted, all merit dedicated, all tender thoughts of loving kindness given… and all of it, upturned and slammed to ground in a single moment.
i felt so … hopeless. unable. lost. the weight of suffering just fell on me like cement, like bricks. like a rain of stones. then, anger. then, hate. such ugly thoughts. and for what?
i couldn’t blame them. even as i tried. the anger and hate here aren’t their fault. only my own. the anger and hate and fear there is chosen in the same ways. for the first time, i could see it clearly, even as i was just so helpless to do more than snarl and snap at it.
what a horrible day of shadows it was… and at the end, in despair, writhing for help, for insight, for something that might turn back the flood… turning to the only one i could think to believe in, as someone able to shed light.
such a tender lesson! pointing me to my own words. showing me i knew the answer, even as i refused to look at it. refused to see it. oh, pitiful ego. oh, stubborn pride. how humbling to see it through his eyes.
and then, to turn to those things more fully… and let their truth and wisdom work in me, and feel all of it just slough off… so much dead skin… the relief of being free…. of remembering that of us all that is so deserving of more and better than anything ego or pride could hope to set before them.
finding the way, slowly, and feeling so pitiful for having so easily forsaken balance for the stingy, snarled, matted trappings of that ‘self’.
it’s funny, but there’s something so pure and light and beautiful about honoring these two for every, single thing. to be able to say:
‘yes, do as you do, yes, set it all here, yes, blame and disdain and curse and slander and distrust and yes, even hate… spill it all here, flow… raging river, run… empty to me, and let it cover me, overtake, and then… pass… as all things do. as all things must. let it come to me in every moment until the river itself runs dry.’
and then, sincerely, softly, with full heart and gratitude, but two words more:
‘thank you.’
does it sound odd that it is preferred such continue to be directed here, that maybe, it never be directed elsewhere? or that it is appreciated here, for the manner in which it continues to point to flaws and faults that should and will be slowly cast aside for its ready, eager arrival?
it sounds odd to me, sometimes. when i’m wobbling… when i am not focused on the flame… but in devotion to the Precious One and through him, all, i find balance restored and perhaps some day, the river truly will run dry… and they too, will find what is needed.
it does not seem such a hard or heavy thing to give by taking. not really.
i am thankful. truly. i remember how we used to say to one another, ‘thank you for being you.’
here, now, i say it still. hear me — thank you. thank you for being you. thank you for everything.