Subj: Take four Kinnaras Date: 97-11-26 14: 43: 21 est from: Emmasirani We are so often depending on this religion or that, this 'ism' or that. Don't even think about Buddhism
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| The body is temporary, like the edge of a precipice. The breath is temporary, like a cloud. The mind is temporary, like lightning. Life is temporary, like dew on the grass. Padmasambhava The old man leaned on his rabbit-head cane. It would take a minute or two to catch his breath He pulled out his old black metal pocket watch and stared at the numbers, more out of habit than anything else. He had no need to know the time. Time was much less important now, after the Changes. He looked down the hill toward the town. He had never been to Reykjavik before the destruction, but knew it had been a city of some size. Now there were just scattered wood, stone and clay houses. Most of the technology of the earlier time had been lost. The old man remembered when computers ran everything, when people could talk to each other all over the world. Iceland had been a land of ice then, not the fertile forestland it was now. The old man knew that all technology had not been lost. He had heard that in parts of what was once Australia computers and many other electronic devices had survived. It was only a matter of time till they once more spread around the world: maybe a hundred years. He had also heard that the few who survived in many places were deeply distrustful of technology. Somehow the science of old would have to be reincorporated into society -- perhaps this time with a deeper spiritual understanding. He saw Favor come running up the hill. She wore a purple cape, and carried a wicker basket and a very large book. 'Oh, I have so many questions.' She hugged him. 'What about?' 'Tell me first, how are you?' 'I am well,' said the old man. 'Me too. Great in fact. Mom is making cherry pie.' 'Ah, cherry pie,' said the old man. 'I'll be sure to bring you some tomorrow.' She opened the book. 'Let me read this to you, and then you can explain it.' 'If I can. You know, there is much in here I can't understand yet.' 'Oh, you're just being modest.' She opened the book to where she had placed a thin blue ribbon, and began to read. Padmasambhava Destroys the Butchers There was, at one of the borders of India, a town inhabited by butchers. Lord Padmasambhava, in order to free the town of butchers, took the form of a butcher's son, and he was named Kati. Kati, being a butcher, and having been raised by butchers, did not care, or see any difference, in killing and eating animals, or killing and eating men and women. So he began, one by one, to kill the butchers and eat their flesh. Then he got in the habit of cutting off bits of his own flesh and eating them. The people of the town then cursed him and drove him away. So Kati went off. He met a man named Tumpo, who was also a butcher, and cruel. Kati told him, 'We both live the same way; we should be good company for each other.' Tumpo agreed. Kati gave Tumpo bows and arrows and snares, and told him, 'Keep killing the butchers with all your might. I will use all my powers to send their consciousness-principles to the abodes of the Devas. In this way all the butchers of the town were killed. Subject: What are butchers? Date: Tue 23 Dec 1997 4.35 AM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19971223083500.DAA20704@ladder01.news.aol.com> Favor put down the book. 'Well?' said the old man. 'I don't get it,' said Favor. 'What don't you get?' 'I don't get any of it. I know Padmasambhava was a great Master. My grandparents often talk of him. How could he kill people and eat their flesh? And what are butchers?' The old man smiled. 'Butchers. You are lucky not to know of them. In the old times, people used to kill animals and eat them.' 'You're kidding.' 'No, its true. Mankind had sunk to such a level that people did this, and actually were proud of it. There were even holidays where the flesh of animals had to be eaten.' 'How did the evil people catch the animals?' 'They enslaved them for many generations. They had farms, concentration camps actually, where the animals were kept in miserable condition, fattened up for slaughter, and then murdered. They kept cows, chickens, pigs, horses, sheep, goats, turkeys, and others too. Even rabbits. I won't even tell you how they killed them. It was too awful.' 'Mom and Dad have said that there was much more bad in the world, but they did not tell me about this.' 'Probably they wanted to spare you till you were old enough to deal with it. It is a very sad episode in the life of humanity.' 'Well, after that, I will have to think this all through. But why did Padmasambhava kill the butchers and eat them. Why not just tell them to stop killing?' 'That I cannot say. Perhaps these men and women were so set in their ways, and so hard-hearted, that to kill them was the only way. Of course, I do not know if this story is true. Sometimes these stories have an inner meaning, so that those who are not ready will not misunderstand.' 'An inner meaning?' 'Yes. In the spiritual realm, you have to earn the right to the higher teachings. They are not given out to everyone, because until one is purified, they can be misused. First a person has to become deeply moral, and interested in everyone's welfare, not just his or her own. Otherwise the powers that are awakened can be misused, and then the person has a great fall.' 'A fall?' 'Yes. In a very few cases, people have fallen all they way back to stone form. They have to be rocks, and slowly work their way back up to human form again, over millions of lives.' 'Wow.' 'This is one of the reasons that occult knowledge is carefully guarded. Let's look at the footnotes.' Subject: Footnotes Date: Tue 23 Dec 1997 4.41 AM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19971223084101.DAA18396@ladder02.news.aol.com> 'Footnotes?' 'In the back of the book are notes, in small print. Sometimes there are explanations there to help us understand the text.' The old man took the book, and turned to the footnotes. After a minute or two, he said, 'These notes are by W. Y. Evans-Wentz, the great oriental scholar. He was the one chosen by the Masters to bring some of the Tibetan teachings to the West for the first time, early in the twentieth century.' He read aloud: 'Consciousness-principle: The term 'soul,' as understood in the Occident, has no equivalent in Buddhist thought, Buddhism denying the existence of an unchanging personal entity. Here, and elsewhere, the term 'consciousness-principle' (Tibetan pho and nam-she) is preferable.' 'You mean Buddhists didn't believe in the soul?' Favor looked horrified. 'Well, that's not exactly right. It's a matter of how you put things into words. The word 'soul' used to mean something different. This was because of false teachings. Now everyone knows that soul means the inner core of being, which is the same in everyone. But back then people did not understand, and used the world for some sort of imaginary permanent identity that a person would retain forever. 'The same is true with the word God. Christians used to throw that word about as if they knew what it meant; of course, they didn't. And Buddhists used to proudly proclaim that they didn't believe in anything as stupid as a God. There were even Buddhists who did not believe in karma, or an afterlife, or reincarnation. People understand much better now.' 'You mean about the soul being God.' 'Yes. The soul, or the consciousness-principle within each of us, goes on life after life until it is completely purified. Then we realise our essential nature, which is God. This world is illusory. It seems real enough, but when we wake up, we find that we had created it all by our imagination.' The old man read again: 'All living beings being one's kin, the eating of flesh of the lower animals is, to the strict Buddhist, essentially the same as eating one's own flesh.' 'I understand that,' said Favor. 'But what are the lower animals?' 'He means the animals lower than human. Not lower in soul, or consciousness-principle, but lower in the sense that they are evolving toward human. They generally have yet to attain human form.' He read on: 'Although this tale is, apparently, to be taken as a legendary fable to emphasize the Buddhist precept prohibiting, as the Emperor Ashoka did by law, the taking of life, whether human or sub-human, the Tibetans who accept it literally maintain that the Great Guru, by killing the butchers and sending their consciousness-principles to the Heaven Worlds, and thus saving them from the sufferings of the Hells, wherein otherwise they would have fallen, acted wisely and humanely. The text goes on to say that he also closed the door to their rebirth in states lower than human.' Subject: Even in Iceland? Date: Tue 23 Dec 1997 4.59 AM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19971223085901.DAA21583@ladder01.news.aol.com> 'So he really helped them by killing them?' asked Favor. 'That's what it says. But I don't know if the story is literally true, or if it is a teaching story. Do you?' 'I feel like my brain is being pickled. What do you say we eat?' Favor opened the picnic basket and took out a brown clay pot. She lifted off the cover. The pizza was steaming hot. ______________ Editor's Note: For more on the life of Padmasambhava, see W. Y. Evans Wentz, 'The Tibetan Book of the Great Liberation' (Oxford University Press, 1954). An explanation of the 'consciousness-principle' by Evans-Wentz appears on page 119. A version of the story of Padmasambhava and the butchers appears on page 138 and 139 of that book. Another version of the quote of Padmasambhava ('The body is temporary'... ) is on page 118. Both are translated from the Sanskrit 'Padma Ka-hi-thang-yig' (also known as the Kathang Sentreng and as the Golden Garland Chronicles) by Ye-she Tsho-gyal, which was discovered in the Mirror Cave of Pouri (also known as the Crystal Cave of Puri Phugmoche) by the Guru Sang-ye Ling-pa. For another account of the life of Padmasambhava, see 'The Lotus Born' by Yeshe Tsogyal, translated by Erik Pema Kusang (Shambhala, 1993). This is a translation of the Sanglingma Life Story, found by Nyang Ral Nyima Oser (1124-1192) beneath a statue of Hayagriva, the horse-headed Deva, in the Sanglingma, a temple at Samye monastery. Sanglingma means 'Copper Temple' -- not to be confused with the Copper Palace of the Bunnysattva. __________ 'Sometimes I feel,' said Favor, 'like I was born too late.' She finished off a slice of pizza. 'What do you mean?' asked the old man. 'I mean, all these great Masters, great spiritual beings, they all lived long ago. And I live here, where there are no Masters at all.' 'How do you know?' 'Well, I don't know any Masters. Do you?' 'There are always living men and women who have attained the highest state of consciousness. And a few of them are Masters, and have disciples.' 'Even in Iceland?' 'They are scattered over the Earth. Generally they live in the East. But a few travel to the West, and occasionally one lives here for awhile.' 'I still wish I lived before. Then I could talk to Jesus, or Krishna, or Gautama Buddha, or Rumi, or Padmasambhava. Or the Bunnysattva. I could go and see them. I could bake pizza for them. I could bring them chocolates.' 'I'm sure they'd like that. Well, you know, it's not impossible.' 'It's not?' 'No. Time travel is actually quite simple, in terms of technology.' 'You mean people can go back in time?' 'And forward too.' 'You're kidding.' 'No, I'm quite serious.' 'How do you know?' 'Beause I've done it.' Favor wiped her mouth and hands on a clean blue napkin. 'I've never heard of anything like this before.' 'There's lots you haven't heard of,' said the old man. 'I guess. So you are saying, I could go back in time and see -- see the Bunnysattva? Or Padmasambhava?' Why not?' 'Well, how do you do it?' The old man smiled very slightly. He took a deep breath, and whistled. In the sky above them appeared a gold-colored saucer, just slightly larger than a Range Rover, but round and flat. It descended toward them them as Favor watched in horror and confusion. 'What is that?' she whispered. 'A time machine,' said the old man. The saucer stopped, hovering about twenty feet above them. 'Who's in there?' she whispered. 'No one. It's mine.' 'It's YOURS!' 'It was a gift.' 'Who gave you a TIME MACHINE?' she asked, no longer whispering. 'The Bunnysattva. She told me, "Maybe someday you'll need this." And we did.' 'Can we go... somewhere? Or is it... somewhen?' 'Sure. Where would you like to go. And when?' 'I better talk to my mother.' from The Bunnysattva Sutra Subject: Christmas Date: Thu 25 Dec 1997 3.03 PM EDT From: Theu Rang Message-id: <19971225190301.OAA19551@ladder02.news.aol.com> Wishing all Bunnysattvans a Merry Christmas, Peace and Love. Subject: Re: Even in Iceland? Date: Thu 25 Dec 1997 3.16 PM EDT From: Bine9 Message-id: <19971225191601.OAA23165@ladder01.news.aol.com> The pizza looked up at Favor and said, "No. You can't eat me. You have to petition the Lord for that and permission may be granted. Or it may be denied. "If it is denied, you will just have to get used to that fact. No matter how hungry you are. Yes, I know. You are very hungry. And the fact that you are staring at me and salivating so doesn't help. "No the lord doesn't care if you starve. You can starve to death as far as he's concerned. As a matter of fact he isn't concerned one whit. Why should he be. You are nothing to him as long as you open your pocketbook once a month. "What's that you say? You might not open your pocketbook to him any more? Ahh, but then you will be the odd man out. All alone in the wilderness. In fact he may just banish you there to teach you a lesson. Then he will no longer hear you and you will be of no concern. "Ok, goodbye then. Go ahead and starve. You can't do anything to him now. He is safe from you and your chaos. He will prosper in his cage, and have many offspring. And you will wither away and die. Out there. Facing all that danger alone." Subject: Re: Even in Iceland? Date: Thu 25 Dec 1997 3.23 PM EDT From: Bine9 Message-id: <19971225192300.OAA23589@ladder01.news.aol.com> Favor chuckled and then dined on the reluctant pizza, and was satisfied. A warm glow ensued. The pepperoni were especially pleased. Subject: Amazing Date: Fri 26 Dec 1997 3.17 PM EDT From: Markar1 Message-id: <19971226191701.OAA20432@ladder02.news.aol.com> Bine Somehow you have managed to write something even more confusing than the Bunnysattva sutra. You have a great gift. Markar Bine, After days and days of meditating and wracking my brains I have finally come to the conclusion that your parable is about AOL and its pitiful new system of organizing message boards. You have a great gift Markar Subject: A falling star Date: Wed 31 Dec 1997 5.47 PM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19971231214700.QAA16351@ladder02.news.aol.com> In each of us is a Buddha, but covered over and hidden from our sight. Padmasambhava 'I've had too much to drink.' 'How do you know?' They were walking down Seventh Avenue just below Waverley Place. Because, his brother replied, 'I just saw a falling star.' 'A what?' 'That's what I mean. Too much to drink.' 'You just had one beer.' 'I know what I saw. A falling star. It fell onto the top of THAT building.' 'You're nuts.' 'Maybe. But I saw it.' 'Next I know, you'll be seeing little green men.' 'That was my last beer. This year.' On the roof of the building, far above them, a golden saucer, slightly dented, was embedded two inches in the black asphalt. 'You okay?' asked Favor, a little shaken. 'Well, considering,' replied the old man, 'I'm doing all right.' 'I think we crashed,' said Favor. 'Could be,' said the old man. 'Where are we?' 'Haven't a clue.' He opened the door of the saucer. The city sparkled before them. It was, judging from the Sun, late afternoon. 'I think we're on the roof of a building.' He tried the controls of the spaceship. Nothing happened. 'Something's broken. What do you say we go down to the street?' Favor nodded. The old man, leaning heavily on his rabbit-head cane, stepped onto the black asphalt roof. Favor followed him, carrying a little shoulder-bag. They found a metal staircase to the top floor of the building, and took an elevator down. Favor had never seen an elevator. 'This is really cool,' she said, pushing all the buttons. It took about five minutes to reach the street level, stopping at every floor. No one else got on. 'How come we weren't hurt?' asked Favor. 'The ship creates a force field to hold us in place when something like this happens. Never been in a saucer crash before...' The doorman was asleep behind his desk, a newspaper over his face. The old man looked closely at the newspaper. It read, 'The New York Times' and 'Wednesday, December 31, 1997.' 'I think we are in New York,' said the old man. 'Wow. Where's that?' 'It was the biggest city in the United States. Millions of people. This should be fun.' 'The United States?' 'Also called America. Across the Atlantic Ocean.' 'Great,' said Favor. 'What year?' 'Fifty-five years ago.' 'Did you know anyone there then -- I mean here?' 'I am trying to think,' said the old man. Subject: Lord of the Number Five Date: Thu 1 Jan 1998 3.56 PM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19980101195601.OAA08352@ladder02.news.aol.com> The street was bustling, men and women rushing past with groceries and packages. Cars, trucks and buses shot past in a jumble of colors, unleashing dark clouds of smoke. Favor took the old man's arm to protect him. He leaned on the rabbit-head cane. When they reached the corner Favor tried to read the street-signs. 'It looks like Beeker,' she said, straining to see the letters. 'Bleecker,' repeated the old man. He turned left a few doors past the Porto Rico Trading Company, and they walked north a block. 'Yes,' he said. He led Favor into a tiny take-out restaurant. Egyptian music played on a tape, and the smells of fried foods and strange spices permeated the air. 'You know,' said the old man, 'we don't have any money.' 'What's that?' 'Money. It's what people used as a medium of exchange.' 'Exchange?' 'Trade. For food and drink, and so on. Wait here a minute.' The old man stepped outside, leaving Favor in line. 'Excuse me, ma'am, could you spare a few dollars for food?' A young woman, hurrying past, slowed and looked him over carefully. She was as tall as he, with long auburn hair and a broad forehead. She wore a touch of lipstick and eyeliner, and her cheeks were red from the cold. Her camel-colored coat looked a bit worn, and on her shoulder was an old brown leather backpack. 'Sure.' She reached into her inside pocket and pulled out a crisp five dollar bill. 'Thank you,' said the old man. 'Om Vajrapani.' 'What?' said the woman? 'Om Vajrapani. Vajrapani is the lord of the number five.' 'What religion is that?' she asked. 'No religion. He is beyond religion.' The woman smiled. 'Where are you from?' She could see her breath. 'I come from the future.' She laughed. 'Right. Well, take care.' 'Maybe you'd like to join us,' said the old man, nodding toward the restaurant. 'Us?' asked the woman. 'My friend and I.' He pointed at Favor, who had moved almost up to the counter. 'I can't really,' said the young woman. 'Then again... what are you having?' 'Falafel and Hummus, by the generosity of an anonymous donor. Allow me.' He held the door for her. Subject: By touching hands Date: Thu 1 Jan 1998 4.02 PM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19980101200200.PAA11524@ladder01.news.aol.com> Favor had reached the counter. She turned back toward him. 'One Falafel sandwich, one Hummus sandwich, two spice teas, no sugar,' the old man called out. He turned to the young woman. 'What would you like?' The woman went up and ordered a Falafel sandwich and a spice tea. The old man handed her the five dollar bill, and taking more money from her wallet, she paid for all they had ordered. A young man with a short mustache and a crewcut smiled and handed them their food, wrapped in tin foil and white paper. The tea was in styrofoam cups. They seated themselves at a rickety little table. 'This is Favor,' said the old man. 'Pleased to meet you,' said Favor, folding her hands and nodding her head slightly. 'Hi,' said the young woman. 'Mandy.' She extended a hand. Favor looked at her hand, and then at the old man. He smiled, and said, 'In America -- that's the name of this country -- people greet each other by touching hands.' He took the woman's hand and shook it, to show Favor. 'It's considered impolite not to take a hand that has been offered.' 'Oh, I'm sorry,' said Favor. 'I had no idea.' 'Really? Where are you from?' 'Well, we live in Iceland, but that's in the future. It's hard to explain, actually. We're... time travelers.' Mandy looked a little pale. 'I know its a strange idea,' said Favor. Just a few days ago I didn't know you could do it, either.' The old man looked at Mandy seriously. 'Please don't tell anyone.' 'I wouldn't dream of it,' she replied. 'Tell me about Vajrapani.' 'Vajrapani?' asked Favor. 'Lord of the number five,' said Mandy. 'Vajrapani,' replied the old man. 'Vajrapani is also known as Fyagna Dorje.' 'Fyagna?' 'He is said to be dark-skinned, very handsome and very powerful. He is one of the eight great Bodhisattvas, and is the Lord of Secrets. Vajrapani was the chief collector and compiler of the Vajrayana teachings.' 'Are you a Hindu?' asked Mandy. 'I don't belong to a religion.' 'And you've come from the future?' The old man smiled, a bit sadly. 'Why don't we forget about that if it bothers you.' 'Not at all,' said Mandy. 'I'm intrigued. Can you take me to the future?' 'We could, perhaps, if our ship is repaired. There's something wrong with it. I think we came down a little too hard.' 'My brother's pretty good with machinery. I don't suppose he could help, could he?' 'Probably not,' said the old man. 'What I need to do is get in touch with my Master.' 'Your Master?' 'Yes. She will know exactly what we should do.' Subject: Theme Parks Date: Thu 1 Jan 1998 4.05 PM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19980101200500.PAA11905@ladder01.news.aol.com> Mandy laughed and laughed. Favor and the old man watched her, occasionally taking a bit of their food. 'I mean, its like the name of a cartoon character.' Mandy wiped her mouth with her handkerchief. 'I don't mean to insult you, or anything. But you must know how it sounds...' The old man thought about it. 'I guess I've heard her name so long that it just seems normal. Like my own name. 'I've heard it since before I can remember,' said Favor. 'It's like a Disney cartoon name. Where is... this... Bunnysattva?' asked Mandy. She giggled. 'I'm not certain,' the old man replied, 'but I believe, at this time, she must be... on the Moon.' Mandy couldn't contain herself. She laughed till tears fell from her eyes. She wiped her face with a handkerchief. 'You could sell this for millions of dollars. Movies, theme parks, books, toys...' The old man took a sip of spice tea, and listened to Muhammad Abdul Wuqub singing in the background. _____________ 'I like this place,' said Favor. 'I like the food, and I like the music. It''s kind of sleazy, and I like that too. 'I pass it every day,' said Mandy. 'But I've never been in.' 'The Hummus...' said the old man. 'Where,' asked Mandy, 'are you going to stay tonight?' 'We weren't planning to stay the night, or even be here,' said the old man. 'Well, you are here, and you must stay with me. I promise I'll try not to laugh again.' 'Where do you live?' asked Favor. 'About twelve blocks south of here. I have a loft.' 'A loft?' 'On Broome. It used to be a factory, but now I live there. The ceilings are very high, and its a nice place. I don't have separate rooms, but there are curtains I can let down for privacy.' 'We would be honored to be your guests,' said the old man. 'Yes, thank you,' said Favor. 'I'm craving a capuccino,' said the old man. 'Why don't we go next door.' They put the papers, foil and styrofoam cups in a trash bin, and, thanking the men behind the counter, went outside. Subject: A fat envelope Date: Thu 1 Jan 1998 4.08 PM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19980101200800.PAA12319@ladder01.news.aol.com> The old man sat alone at a hand-carved ebony table. Favor was in the bathroom, hardly bigger than a closet, and Mandy was talking to someone on a pay phone attached to the wall. The cafe was dark and filled with old furniture and bad antique paintings. The espresso machine sizzled continually. Most of the tables were marble; most of the chairs were of wood or wrought iron, and mismatched. It was a dark, busy place. There were outdoor tables too, but they were empty because it was cold outside. It had been there as long as he could remember. As a boy he had come there with his homework. He remembered reading Euripides at a side table, sipping Keemun tea from an aluminum pot that looked like Alladin's lamp. The ceiling was of patterned aluminum, and it was grey with age. This cafe no longer exists, he thought; half this continent is gone. Time travel is so strange. The old man concentrated his mind. Visualising the Bunnysattva, he sent her a message: 'Dear Master: In the name of Lord Merog: The ship is damaged. I am in Manhattan. It is December 30th, 1997, and we are at Caffe Reggio on MacDougal just south of Third Street. It's about 3.13 pm. With me is Favor, a young woman from Iceland. She is the granddaughter of Aerna and Jeremy, and I think the reincarnation of Fiver. May all beings find Peace.' The door to the cafe opened, flooding the room with fresh, cold air. A young woman in a long black overcoat stood by the door, looking from table to table. She saw the old man, and approached him. He looked up and smiled. 'Stace?' 'Yes.' 'That was fast.' 'You look like you've been through a lot.' 'I'll take that as a complement,' said the old man. 'Here.' She handed him a fat envelope. 'Please join us,' said the old man. 'Wish I could. I have four more stops, and then back to the Moon for evening meditation.' 'Oh well. It's great to see you. Please give my love to the Master. And to everyone.' 'I will. I'm glad to see you. Take care.' Stace bowed slightly, and went out. The old man stood up, his hands folded and head bowed, and watched her go. 'Who was that?' asked Mandy, back from her phone call. 'A friend,' said the old man, wiping a tear from his cheek. Subject: A gold key Date: Thu 1 Jan 1998 4.13 PM EDT From: Emmasirani Message-id: <19980101201301.PAA10530@ladder02.news.aol.com> Download 182.86 Kb. Share with your friends:
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