Ideas realized
From The Gospel of Mary Magdalene “All that is born, all that is created all the elements of nature are interwoven and united with each other. All that is composed shall be decomposed; Everything returns to its roots; Matter returns to the origins of matter. Those who have ears, let them hear.”
Bardo of Becoming: Now when the bardo of becoming dawns upon me, I will concentrate my mind one- pointedly, And strive to prolong the results of good karma, Close the womb-entrance and think of resistance; This is the time when perseverance and pure thought are needed, Abandon jealousy and meditate on the Guru with his consort. -Bardo Thodol
Bardo of dharmatā Now when the bardo of dharmatā draws upon me I will abandon all thoughts of fear and terror, I will recognize whatever appears as my projection And know it to be vision of the bardo; Now that I have reached this crucial point, I will not fear the peaceful and wrathful ones, My own projections. -Bardo Thodol
Bardo of the moment before death: Now when the bardo of the moment before death draws upon me, I will abandon all grasping, yearning and attachment, Enter undistracted into clear awareness of the teaching, And eject my consciousness into the space of unborn mind; As I leave this compound body of flesh and blood I will know it to be transitory illusion. -Bardo Thodol
BarDo of Dreams Now when the bardo of dreams is drawing upon me, I will abandon the corpse-like sleep of careless ignorance, and let my thoughts enter their natural state without distraction; Controlling and transforming dreams in luminosity. I will not sleep like an animal But unify completely sleep and practice. -Bardo Thodol
Cross dimensions four I steered my faithful ship. With sea of time both aft and fore, O’er space my hull did skip, Toward sands of unknown distant shore. For ever east, where west is west Whilst on a circumferential plane. Chart tangential of the axial twain To plow through spatial trough and crest Of a boundless celestial ancestral plain, Where perhaps we shall meet again.
Having sailed over
a green sea,
Far from home
and shore,
Upon a small isle
I set my keel,
A place I’d never
been before,
To replenish
diminished stores
From natures bloom,
Those rebels of doom,
Fragrant flowers
of spring.
So praises I sing
With lines of rhyme,
Of ambrosias
sweet in taste,
‘Fore the sickle of time
Those posies reposed
lays waste.
