Thus it was-
I flew in dream on the air of early morning over a sea by a rocky coastline. An immensity of mountain peaks appeared, looming over a sheltered cove. A city, a port lay there. On rocky islands in the bay, I saw sanctuaries with great statues, some Buddhist, some Christian, some devoted to other religious sects. There were temples, mosques, cathedrals, and many magnificent stone houses of worship. The sky was still shrouded in darkness and there were lamps alight, hanging from the city houses.
I came to earth outside a red brick building of strange and beautiful design. Outside stood a fabulous statue in dark marble of bewildering shape. This was a house of worship, though dedicated to which path I could not tell. A rose-hued light was emanating from behind the door.
The cool air was scented of rose and candle-wax, and there arose the faint sound of sighing.
As I passed the great iron gates towards the doorway, I became aware that the sighs were coming from around the side of the building, from a darkened alleyway littered with bins. I turned my steps that way and approached.
There, behind the bins, I found a aged woman kneeling, bent over an old cat, breathing his last. She was crying. Her face was pale and shockingly age-worn. Her hair was white, long and unkempt and she was wrapped in black rags. Pity stirred in my heart. I approached and knelt down beside her.
Her eyes were welling with her tears and she spoke -
“All the high and splendid towers, all the jewelled chambers in all the worlds now, in the past, in the future – none of these are worth a single aching moment more of life for my poor, sick friend who is passing away .”
Then the breath went out of the old cat, and the woman let her face fall into her hands and sobbed.
Suddenly, above her head there appeared a brilliant spark of rose coloured light, like a little star. In that star appeared the face of the cat that had just passed away. But the woman did not look up.
I wanted to speak, showing her how the cat had not been utterly extinguished or had flown away from her, but before I could, she spoke-
‘I know what you would tell me. I know he has not vanished away. I weep still because weeping is still worthy in this world, in all worlds where there is suffering. The enlightened ones still weep. They do so to lead those who suffer towards enlightenment. Thus, they share in the suffering, and yet are they beyond suffering in sublime bliss and the realm of peace. Remember this. As others suffer, so you should not shun suffering, nor condemn tears. We are all each other in these worlds. Thus the Formless to know Themselves has arisen as these worlds of Form. Form is emptiness, emptiness is form. That is all.’
At that, the entire scene dispersed into myriad sparks of light, and from the empty darkness beneath came a voice, saying-
“Yea, I am all that, I am all this, all, though you know it not yet”
AND SO, IN VERSE I HYMN THE GREAT WISDOM
Hymn to Her,
Mahaprajnaparamita
1
When it is done
When life in weariness is cast down
She comes on the dark wind and sings
Silent is She, enthroned in darkness,
showing forth the light of the intelligible stars,
Groundless substratum of the entire World,
All-pervading Genetrix
Emptiness , Wisdom, and One,
2
Silent, She is, yet speaking-
‘Verily, be not dismayed in amazement
that I am both the source of all,
and I am here present- yea, even within thyself.
As the great sea of sight
shows forth the light of stars,
As the quiet grove at dusk
shows forth the evening lamp,
So too is thine own mind in me revealed.
Journey back through the eleven gates,
Journey within to my embrace.’
3
Upon the wings of sleep, I go down,
Into Soul’s sky, above the forest of the mind.
In midnight and purple am I wrapped,
To the dell of the first gate, I descend
Behold! In this realm, deception is not easy,
Passions and intentions parade before the view
4
In the daylight of Mind’s sun,
The gentle green and radiant realm,
Beneath fragrant growth,
Here the well of the second gate.
Here, it shall be known,
In this place of remembrance,
That here is not You and I,
Though You and I can be seen.
6
On the face of Mind’s sun
Is the city of the fourth gate
Of ochre and saffron is it’s hue,
Here is the realm of the unity of powers,
Here is the city of the creative visions.
10
Sky of cold rain is the eighth realm
Whose gate is below the red star,
Fly there on the wings of the lightning horse,
This realm where Mind’s action
Turns to face the Mind.
13
Then, down at the eleventh gate-
Breaking asunder the rocks of night,
There lifts the veil of time,
Grey is the spray of eternal waters,
The hair of the woman,
A curtain of flame,
The sound of bells and chimes
And the voice of the great sea speaks-
14
(Mahaprajnaparamita)
‘Truly, I am all that is,
Of me, you are an infinitesimal part,
Yea, that thou art, but here is a mystery –
Creative formlessness is empty form
Come now, and we will go back,
Return to the World of Youth,
Back through the Cave of Emergence,
The high house of blue and silver cups
The bowl of the Sun, rose on the waters,
The warm fawn of Elbe,
Come, to turn to re-emerge,
Again and again,
‘Till all the hurts of the worlds are healed’