taotiger - Uroboros Dreaming

Sleep in this new dwelling comes upon the pair slowly, as memory of the old way is supplanted by hopes of prosperous living in the well-equipped house. Early the next morning, both are awake and eager to survey the surroundings, rushing out the front door and on to the deep veranda, gazing awestruck at the immense rocky walls towering above on all sides.

The base of the massive sunken cylindrical paradise is around two hundred paces from one side to the other. Roughly half the area, in the centre, is covered by rows of vegetables and a number of gnarled fruit trees, while all about the edges, abutting the vertical walls, beautiful trees tower over dense jungle foliage. Birds of many species cry out in mottled chorus to the dawning day, flitting by in flashes of vibrant colour, warbling squawked greeting to the newcomers. Three seagulls fly high overhead across the patch of visible sky, chased by a territorial raven.

Part-way up the rock-face by the house a small, steady watercourse flows from inside the mountain, forming pools and winding between the crops before disappearing at the far end into the lush verdant undergrowth. Two small bridges traverse the stream, and the beginnings of trails can be seen leading from the house towards well-travelled walkways penetrating the wilder areas.

Over the first moon-cycle, the entirety of the sanctuary is explored. Resting spots within the jungle are found, the contents of the house are examined, and a basic routine is developed to care for the plants and maintain domestic orderliness. At the full-moon, decreed by tradition, a course is set for the underground river cavern and, sitting on the side of the river, the rope no longer trailing from the roof, a meditation on the underlying unity of phenomena yields a tranquil mind state, undisturbed by the waters tumbling past. Stars in the opening above wheel onwards.

Becoming fatigued from sitting so long, though mindful of the debt owing to Bukem, the desire to leave for home arises. Just then, a flickering light is seen on the far side of the river, and a figure emerges from the opposite tunnel. Continuing to rest calmly, a flashback to a moment many years prior bursts upon the vigilant consciousness, elements of a fractured picture realign to divulge the super-image of vast, patterned reality, repeating for aeons into the distant recesses of time; lineage transcending the mundane, somehow drawing together all necessary components to ripen at the precise instant required to uphold the ancient understandings, giving birth regularly to the fruits of a generative system growing into maturity over millennia.

A timid voice from across the stream calls, “Who are you, and how do you come to be here?”
Replying, “Who it is that you see may have little bearing upon what is seen. Call this body…” Now the truth of the rite congeals and the only way to perpetuate the real lifeblood is revealed, “…Bukem, if you must.”
Pausing, the man ahead visibly recovers from the shock of discovering another here, shakes himself and enquires further, “For how long have you been living here?”

Plumbing the memories of years before, a sense that a similar question was once asked occurs, “It has always been so, and will remain thus for the duration that one becomes two. Over and over, the two meet here and again become the one… So it has been, and will be forever!”

And so it goes, time rolls by growing food to eat, studying the scrolls, and every full moon, coming back to the riverbank to teach the younger man all there is to know about sentient consciousness as transcreator of subjectively bounded materiality, and the mysterious workings of the spirit, ground of being. The same lessons that Bukem unravelled are now taught again, augmented by the wisdom found within the scrolls.

Time itself is dismantled as simply change, the observed rate of which depends upon the frequency of substantial alteration and the duration of life-cycle - a day for a mountain passes as a human second, while that day for a butterfly seems as a lifetime. While the sundial reflects the cyclical motion of the sun’s course, alternating by day and year, and the moon-phase measurement of shorter periods, only the continual awareness of the infinite, unchanging spirit provides the experience of eternity in every instant.

Extension, love, dreaming, emotion, creation, instinct, compassion, understanding, valuation, imagination, cognition, activity, language, insight, remembering - these are all covered in the course of the teaching as emanating from and having ultimate identity with spirit. Endless in complexity, perceived illusorily as bases of existence each may temporarily usurp spirit’s position as the fundamental constituent of reality, but to the detriment of all other functions.

Years pass this way. The canister is again found, interpreted afresh, and used to find favour with the village so far below, perpetuating the life-cycle of the curious reptile. Droufadni, content in the isolated garden, spends her days also reading the parchments, talking idly to her beloved companion, and making forays via the underground passage into the jungle outside to gather rare plants and enjoy the open air. Much remains as it was found in the beginning, yet subtle variations abound - both residents are somewhat more surefooted, having lived here for over two hundred moons, albeit slower and with features weathered by lifetimes of exposure and expression. The house is the same, only minor repairs needed to strengthen the sturdy construction, while the surrounding vegetation has grown alongside the ageing couple.

Since the snake was released again from the container in the underground cavern, every moment is spent together, wandering along corridors of treasured shared memories, speaking of the wonders of everyday life, and enjoying the intimacy developed over decades of mutual devotion. Intuiting what lies ahead, Droufadni sorrowfully bids farewell as the full-moon of reckoning approaches. “Farewell, my only love. We have both a journey ahead, yet mine is unsure and fraught with danger - yours is to be swift, with the blessings of those who have gone before and those who will follow. Be strong. I will see you before long, on the other side.”

Shaken, but determined to face the inevitable with dignity, the reply comes haltingly, “There has been one love in this life - she is here and soon, for me, no more. The heart breaks, but the resolve is true. Thank you for sharing this lifetime, for making it truly beautiful. Goodbye, and be safe until we may meet again.”

Leaving for the tunnel in the opposite wall, and what awaits, tears of joy and despair mingle as, looking back, Droufadni waves. In the passageway, nothing is changed. The path to the river remains after generations have departed. On the bank, facing the other shore, a meditation posture is assumed, and contemplation of the infinite spirit ignites an eternal ecstatic trance-state.

Suddenly, the rushing of the waters becomes hushed, and a tingling feeling shoots up the side of the body. A stabbing pain in the heart region elicits an agonised cry and, labouring for another breath denied a chest collapsing, a weight as of the mountain crushes the will to survive. Looking around for a cause, at last it dawns on the old, dying man, who thinks clearly and with finality, “There is no beast, after all… it is the time to go, and there is nothing to fear. The cycle continues, the two become one… Goodbye, Droufadni…”

Drifting into unconsciousness, the cave around dissolving gently, a faint noise increases, until floating in the half-light, the words from far away become louder and fill the night air: Absque Spiritus Nihil… Absque Spiritus Nihil… Absque Spiritus Nihil…

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