How Could It Be Any Different

I'm just a clown here
and now, of only small use,
fallen farther down.
But it is here, now,
that the Light shines around me
and takes me places
I did not ever
guess could show themselves nearby
as if alive, free
and welcoming me.
This changes the game pieces,
wipes my war paint off.
I'm still a Bozo,
still the clown as ever was,
though I now know what's
what - that Light arrives
right here square in the middle
of the full blown mess.*

September 10, 2013 10:10 PM

*When you transform from seeker to one who has found, from disciple to master, from sinner to saint, from penitent to exalted, when you are saved by the Master, when you shift your shape for real, it begins in a moment just like any other in all your days as they have been before and lifts you out from there. The clown sits clothed in rags for the last time under the Bodhi Tree but does not know until after it is his last time. When he gets up he is no longer the clown but now is Buddha, clothed in Light. And the rest of it is this: the world has not changed and the rest of us have not changed and likely will not. As Buddha steps away from that Tree, he becomes again the clown if he stays around. More often than not he stays nearby, taking vows and becoming all but invisible doing so. Mahayana Buddhism calls this one Bodhisattva. In Taoism this one is one of the old men of the forest. As well there is a myth that several of these immortals have joined hearts in Shangri La and keep the world anchored in place despite all self destructive efforts to the contrary.