Bro-pa/Vajra

notes for nobody

the first time i became enlightened i understood the principle of the whole universe...the hinge of the universe...the linchpin of nonexistence...the wellspring of existence. but after a certain period of time elapsed i forgot it. simply totally forgot it. don’t know what it means. completely gone. look into my eyes; i tell you, it is gone.

and that’s not the only thing that’s gone. everything. just gone. one great big forget.

it doesn’t feel very bad   in fact it feels good. thoughts don’t rise much. those that do disappear in a zip. people come and they have questions. and i have their answers. but because they can’t ask their question i can’t give them their answer.

so i strike up a conversation and in the guise of talking about something give them their question/answer and then as in all chit-chat i say “take it easy” and go. but their eyes get very buggy. and they don’t talk to me again any more.

so nobody talks to me any more. perhaps i need to give lectures. i can pick some droll topic and then just blather on about nothing in particular. and in that way i can talk to everybody.

Pages found near the body of a frozen-to-death homeless man who used to mumble to himself and talk to nobody in particular on street corners. He was found sitting up in an old refrigerator box, a great smile seemed to pervade his body and face.

The next page continues:


sometimes it would come back and then i would try to write it down in its pristine clarity/deep profundity. but then later i didn’t understand what the hell i was writing about. it would just go. and only it could understand what it had writ.

so i thought perhaps i should memorize it. and then repeat it dumb blank rote. those are good words. but who am i? nobody will listen to me. and these words will be like a curse to them; instead of medicine, poison. and when i drop the cards they say, do not speak of this to anyone.

nothing to speak of   no one to speak to.

And this final page:

White Tarabut then sometimes she comes and speaks to me. such beautiful things the sigh of the wind...the twirling of a leaf or a snowflake...the silence as night falls. here in this alley she comes and whispers to me. as the wind picks up its howling, we are not two, she tells me, we are not two.

He was found in the morning by some dog walkers holding this last piece of paper. As his things were picked up and packed away into the dumpster, somebody gathered these notes together. Should I save them? Who will read it?

Words on the wind:

just let them go as flying leaves into the wind
   hey fool where are you going? what are you doing? fool. answer. don’t speak. listen. who is listening, fool? do you hear who is listening? what is your work, fool? don’t you know what you are doing? open your eyes and listen.



Short column from the local paper:
A crazy nameless homeless man, who used to mutter on street corners, was found frozen to death early this morning. His body was removed for burial in potter’s field.

Wherein lies the difference between enlightenment and insanity (or delusion, for want of a more polite term)? It is attachment. When you are attached to it even enlightenment becomes insanity. And when you leave go of it even delusion becomes enlightenment.

-- Norman Guberman

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