Ado: Rumours of My Disappearance

Last time, I wrote about how, in the middle of a particularly vicious Fibromyalgia attack, I fell to reflecting upon Tara Buddha’s predicament, that of being a Buddha to whom devotees continually cry out for rescue from the round of suffering of this world.

So, here I was cringing in agony, feeling sorry for this being, supposedly residing in perpetual bliss in Nirvana, and yet constantly bombarded by cries for help.

Quelle bizarre, no?

Well, I thought so anyway.

In keeping with my feelings of uselessness, I decided that the best response was for me to give her all of my merit and everything else I possessed, so that she could transform this into, . . . whatever it is that she has to transform it in to facilitate the release from suffering of everybody requesting it.

Then, as I said, everything seemed to disappear, including me, except that there seemed to be something left over, which wasn’t something, nor was it nothing. Even afterwards, I couldn’t describe whatever the not something not nothing was, or what it wasn’t. All sense of the passage of time completely disappeared as well, so that this whatever could have gone on for days for all I knew while I was in it, and as for who was left to know anything at all, I could not say.

In addition, there was also this disembodied voice (presumably mine), which said “What is this? Is it bliss? No. Is it sadness? No,” and so on.

Then there was also this kind of greyness in the whatever, which reminded me of a ripple in a pond, when a fish comes close to the surface and stirs the water slightly. Later, I formed the impression that this was where “me” went, as if I had somehow been flushed down the drain or something.

After an interval, which as I had looked at my watch shortly before this incident, I guessed to be at least twenty minutes, everything came back, including the pain, which had disappeared along with everything else.

What to make of this? I had not idea, but as it turned out this was just the movie trailer. The weirdest was yet to come.

Next time: riding the rocket.