Featured Prose — 24 October 2012

From Svarup and Premartha’s forthcoming book ‘The Little Buddha and the Cosmos’.

One day just before dawn, the Buddha of Long History felt like breaking what had become his routine. Instead of going out, he decided to stay home and wait for sunrise. As he gazed into the last shadows of the night, he felt as empty as the limitless space behind the clouds. But when the magnificent sun lit up the Himalayan peaks, his perception changed: he suddenly felt multicolored, just like the first sunrays that were setting the sky ablaze. He instantly knew that existence was telling him something, heralding some new dawn. Awed, he bowed down in a gesture of surrender.

Buddha in Shangrila

Later that same morning, a message was brought to his door. The envelope bore the insignia of the Council of Twelve. He was surprised to receive news from them. As the months of his retreat had rolled by, he had taken more and more distance from his old friends, although he still loved them very much. Truth was, he sighed to himself, that something else was brewing behind his attitude of distance. He had to admit, at least to himself, that since one month or so he had started to feel increasingly bored, and very ashamed of it. Not a suitable mood for an inhabitant of Shambala, he told himself all the time. But his boredom was becoming stronger and stronger, and the struggle to hide it exhausting. He didn’t feel at ease anymore if an old friend came too close, in case he found out and judged him for it.

There had been a lot lately for him to watch in his aloneness: sometimes he saw himself collapsing under the weight of the shame, other times he felt his nerves on fire, barely containing a silent rage. He also knew somehow that the Council had noticed from afar what was happening, but had refrained from interfering. He could feel their trust in him, and in the method of just watching one’s thoughts and emotions until they would disappear. But he was tired to sit it out in his comfortable hideaway…

He sat down with the unopened envelope in his hands. He could not deny that the Council had been a fantastic leading team. He had always trusted them, and the mystery that had brought them together. He also admired their capacity to keep up with the new “information” era, as it was called on the Planet. But in his innermost private thoughts he also sometimes judged them as a bit too aloof.

With his heart beating a bit faster, he opened the message. As he read and reread the one and only word on it, he scratched his head in disbelief. The note said: “Charavedi”.

He knew what the word meant: “Keep on moving”. It was one of the essential teachings of Gautama the Buddha. But he could not follow the reasoning behind it. For some unknown reason, he had lost his cool and could not think straight. Then, a flood of thoughts came over him: “Is this how the Council of Twelve sees me? Unable to move on my own accord? Stuck?”

He allowed the heat to recede from his face, and pondered it over: he had to admit that, hidden maybe in one of his many inner drawers, there might be some remain of ego material. Maybe a part of him still stuck in denial….

This idea shocked him. He realized that the peaceful silence around him had become dull and full of foreboding. Then, he suddenly remembered how he had been trying to deny his boredom. He saw himself becoming a comfortable recluse, safely hiding in his boredom.

He tried to resume his meditative state, but the tranquility that had come natural to him just a moment before was no longer there. Especially when he tried to ignore the message, he could not think of anything else. The beauty of the day was gone. He started remembering himself far away in time, before enlightenment. How he had felt then was not so different from the way he was feeling right now.

After falling into an exhausted sleep, he woke up in the first hours of the night, soaking wet from sweating. While struggling to free himself from the knotted sheets and sit up, he remembered his dream: He was back in his childhood. Walking with his dog in the pine forest. There were voices coming from above. Then his dog disappeared, maybe even died. He suddenly felt very sad, so sad that the tears running down his cheeks were creating a river. He could see a gang of children on the other shore. He knew them, but could not reach them. Then suddenly it was all dark, and the voices from above became louder and louder….

The following morning at sunrise, usually his favorite time, he felt like a wreck. The lack of sleep made him even more confused. He found himself getting really angry at the Twelve, raging against their patronizing attitude, as if anyone knew what’s best for someone else, comfortably giving orders to others from a safe position….

As his anger mounted, something else started happening: while he was raging, his heart was smiling. It felt funny, but also sad, and he did not know whether to laugh or cry about it. The inner fight between smile and anger reached its final peak in the late morning: he felt caught in a powerful thunderstorm, as if inside him two opposite air currents were clashing violently. He had lost all direction.

“I have to move now,” he thought to himself, straining to get out of his trance-like state. Just then, a knock came at his door. Through no more than a tiny open sliver, he checked who was standing outside. It was his neighbor.

She was usually a very composed and silent lady who had reached Nirvana, salvation, through the path of Yoga. This path was a very regulated one, and so was she. She always got up at four in the morning and did her exercises. Today, though, she looked completely different. Her whole face was full of excitement, and her voice much louder than usual.

Breathing intensely, she handed him a paper identical to his. The only difference was that it was addressed to her. She obviously needed to talk. “Dear neighbor,” she started, almost gasping, “usually I am not over-emotional…. But this time I do need to speak up, and you do need to listen to me. Look at this note: it is the same as yours, I also received it yesterday. Initially, it did not affect me very much; in fact, at first I thought it was some kind of publicity.

“But in the night I had a dream, for the first time since very long. I would not have dared intruding your privacy, but you were strongly present in it.”

There was a long gap, long enough for the Buddha of Long History to realize how many things had gone unmentioned between them two. They had been neighbors for so many years, and yet he could count on the fingers of one hand the times they had spoken to each other beyond ‘good morning’. He had no idea how to respond….

To be continued….

Premartha and SvarupPremartha and Svarup are lovers, friends and partners. They have been working together in the field of Osho all over the world for more than thirty years. They are very experienced in Primal and emotional healing, sexuality and transformation. Out of their combined passion for the work grew their unique way to teach which they call ‘Dwija – Twice Born’, a multicolored journey through a large variety of groups, courses and trainings. Together, they have written the book ‘Twice Born-Healing the Past-Creating a New Future‘. At present, they are in the process of publishing the first book of a trilogy called ‘The Little Buddha and the Cosmos’.

 

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