Avalokitesvara
May 9, 2004 4:22 PM Subscribe
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Hey, s/he's my favorite bodhisattva. No, really.
(Please forgive the gratuitous self-link and scroll to the last post on the page, as it looks like Blogger's permalink isn't working.)
posted by Shane at 6:29 PM on May 9, 2004
(Please forgive the gratuitous self-link and scroll to the last post on the page, as it looks like Blogger's permalink isn't working.)
posted by Shane at 6:29 PM on May 9, 2004
I have kept the same image of Avalokiteshvara on my own home altar, such as it is, since the late '70s.
We need him/her now.
posted by digaman at 7:31 PM on May 9, 2004
We need him/her now.
posted by digaman at 7:31 PM on May 9, 2004
Brilliant. Reminds me of a trip in college for a religion class at an ultra-conservative Baptist college. We went to a variety of temples and holy places; I remember heavy incense and chanting, and the feeling it was all connected,
Having said that, the "l" is bitch to hit after planting all day, several margariatas, a Pinot Grigio and a local Syrah. But brazos! Brazos!
posted by tr33hggr at 7:43 PM on May 9, 2004
Having said that, the "l" is bitch to hit after planting all day, several margariatas, a Pinot Grigio and a local Syrah. But brazos! Brazos!
posted by tr33hggr at 7:43 PM on May 9, 2004
Avalokiteshwara helps those who help themselves.
Same old external deliverance delusion. No?
posted by Blue Stone at 7:46 PM on May 9, 2004
Same old external deliverance delusion. No?
posted by Blue Stone at 7:46 PM on May 9, 2004
Same old external deliverance delusion. No?
No. You don't supplicate Avalokitesvara. You become him.
posted by zadcat at 9:24 PM on May 9, 2004
No. You don't supplicate Avalokitesvara. You become him.
posted by zadcat at 9:24 PM on May 9, 2004
No. You don't supplicate Avalokitesvara. You become him.
Oops, you just lost him.
posted by falconred at 9:56 PM on May 9, 2004
Oops, you just lost him.
posted by falconred at 9:56 PM on May 9, 2004
I hear Avalokitesvara's a communist.
posted by stavrosthewonderchicken at 11:11 PM on May 9, 2004
posted by stavrosthewonderchicken at 11:11 PM on May 9, 2004
No. You don't supplicate Avalokitesvara. You become him.
The Buddha, in The Lotus Sutra at least, is said to say different: if you call on Kanzeon for help, he will help you; he'll vanquish your enemies and everything.
posted by Blue Stone at 4:27 AM on May 10, 2004
The Buddha, in The Lotus Sutra at least, is said to say different: if you call on Kanzeon for help, he will help you; he'll vanquish your enemies and everything.
posted by Blue Stone at 4:27 AM on May 10, 2004
Spyan-ras-gzigs in Tibetan
The acceptable spelling and pronunciation of the Tibetan name sPyan Ras gZig is Chenrezig.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama is considered that earthly manifestation of Chenrezig, the bodhisattva of boundless compassion. The mantra associated with this buddha is, Om Mani Peme Hum, is the most recited and written mantra in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and is found etched in stones and mountainsides, on ritual implements, prayer wheels and jewelry.
In the Tibetan tradition, Chenrezig is male. Tara or Drolma in Tibetan, is the female and active manifestation of compassion. Most are familiar with Green Tara or White Tara, but, there are actually 21 manifestations of her that range from peaceful and nurturing to wrathful.
posted by amphigory at 6:37 AM on May 10, 2004
The acceptable spelling and pronunciation of the Tibetan name sPyan Ras gZig is Chenrezig.
His Holiness the Dalai Lama is considered that earthly manifestation of Chenrezig, the bodhisattva of boundless compassion. The mantra associated with this buddha is, Om Mani Peme Hum, is the most recited and written mantra in the Tibetan Buddhist tradition and is found etched in stones and mountainsides, on ritual implements, prayer wheels and jewelry.
In the Tibetan tradition, Chenrezig is male. Tara or Drolma in Tibetan, is the female and active manifestation of compassion. Most are familiar with Green Tara or White Tara, but, there are actually 21 manifestations of her that range from peaceful and nurturing to wrathful.
posted by amphigory at 6:37 AM on May 10, 2004
Speaking of "Om Mani Padme Hum" ...
If the mantra is inscribed once and placed into a prayer wheel, each rotation of the prayer wheel accumulates the same merit as saying the mantra once. Similarly, a prayer wheel containing 100 million instances of the mantra yields the same purification power per rotation as saying the mantra 100 million times.
To set your very own prayer wheel in motion, all you have to do is download this mantra to your computer's hard disk. Once downloaded, your hard disk drive will spin the mantra for you. Nowadays hard disk drives spin their disks somewhere between 3600 and 7200 revolutions per minute, with a typical rate of 5400 rpm. Given those rotation speeds, you'll soon be purifying loads of negative karma.
Since it's now in your browser cache, your computer may already be an enlightened being.
posted by sfenders at 6:54 AM on May 10, 2004
If the mantra is inscribed once and placed into a prayer wheel, each rotation of the prayer wheel accumulates the same merit as saying the mantra once. Similarly, a prayer wheel containing 100 million instances of the mantra yields the same purification power per rotation as saying the mantra 100 million times.
To set your very own prayer wheel in motion, all you have to do is download this mantra to your computer's hard disk. Once downloaded, your hard disk drive will spin the mantra for you. Nowadays hard disk drives spin their disks somewhere between 3600 and 7200 revolutions per minute, with a typical rate of 5400 rpm. Given those rotation speeds, you'll soon be purifying loads of negative karma.
Since it's now in your browser cache, your computer may already be an enlightened being.
posted by sfenders at 6:54 AM on May 10, 2004
I don't care if it rains of freezes
'Long as I got my Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car.
Through my trials and tribulations
And my travels through the nations
With my Plastic Jesus I'll go far.
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car
I'm afraid He'll have to go.
His magnets ruin my radio
And if I have a wreck He'll leave a scar.
Riding down a thoroughfare
With His nose up in the air,
A wreck may be ahead, but He don't mind.
Trouble coming He don't see,
He just keeps His eye on me
And any other thing that lies behind.
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Though the sunshine on His back
Make Him peel, chip and crack,
A little patching keeps Him up to par.
When I'm in a traffic jam
He don't care if I say "damn"
I can let all my curses roll
Plastic Jesus doesn't hear
'Cause he has a plastic ear
The man who invented plastic saved my soul.
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Once His robe was snowy white,
Now it isn't quite so bright -
Stained by the smoke of my cigar.
If I weave around at night,
And policemen think I'm tight,
They never find my bottle - though they ask.
Plastic Jesus shelters me,
For His head comes off, you see
He's hollow, and I use Him for a flask.
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Ride with me and have a dram
Of the blood of the Lamb -
Plastic Jesus is a holy bar.
[Plastic Jesus has become quite entrenched in the folk tradition, so there are considerably more folk verses than there were original ones. Following are folk additions and emendations, as well as additions from recording artists who have covered this song.]
Well, I don't care if it rains or freezes,
Long as I have my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
I could go a hundred miles an hour
Long as I got the Almighty Power
Glued up there with my pair of fuzzy dice
{Refrain - repeat between every verse}
Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Through all trials and tribulations,
We will travel every nation,
With my plastic Jesus I'll go far.
I don't care if it rains or freezes
As long as I've got my Plastic Jesus
Glued to the dashboard of my car,
You can buy Him phosphorescent
Glows in the dark, He's Pink and Pleasant,
Take Him with you when you're travelling far
I don't care if it's dark or scary
Long as I have magnetic Mary
Ridin' on the dashboard of my car
I feel I'm protected amply
I've got the whole damn Holy Family
Riding on the dashboard of my car
You can buy a Sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a
Pedestal of abalone shell
Goin' ninety, I'm not wary
'Cause I've got my Virgin Mary
Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell
I don't care what they say, I'm gonna
Keep on prayin' to that pink madonna
Melted to the dashboard of my car.
I don't care if it bumps or jostles
Long as I got the Twelve Apostles
Bolted to the dashboard of my car
Don't I have a pious mess
Such a crowd of holiness
Strung across the dashboard of my car
No, I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I have my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
But I think he'll have to go
His magnet ruins my radio
And if we have a wreck he'll leave a scar
Riding through the thoroughfare
With his nose up in the air
A wreck may be ahead, but he don't mind
Trouble coming, he don't see
He just keeps his eyes on me
And any other thing that lies behind
{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Though the sun shines on his back
Makes him peel, chip, and crack
A little patching keeps him up to par
When pedestrians try to cross
I let them know who's boss
I never blow my horn or give them warning
I ride all over town
Trying to run them down
And it's seldom that they live to see the morning
{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
His halo fits just right
And I use it as a sight
And they'll scatter or they'll splatter near and far
When I'm in a traffic jam
He don't care if I say Damn
I can let all sorts of curses roll
Plastic Jesus doesn't hear
For he has a plastic ear
The man who invented plastic saved my soul
{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Once his robe was snowy white
Now it isn't quite so bright
Stained by the smoke of my cigar
God made Christ a Holy Jew
God made Him a Christian too
Paradoxes populate my car
Joseph beams with a feigned elan
From the shaggy dash of my furlined van
Famous cuckold in the master plan
Naughty Mary, smug and smiling
Jesus dainty and beguiling
Knee-deep in the piling of my van
His message clear by night or day
My phosphorescent plastic Gay
Simpering from the dashboard of my van
You can buy Him phosphorescent
Glows in the dark, He's Pink and Pleasant,
Take Him with you when you're travelling far.
You can buy a Sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a
Pedestal of abalone shell.
Goin' ninety, I'm not wary'
Cause I've got my Virgin Mary,
Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell.
Rain and Snow are not an issue
long as I got my plastic Vishnu
Sittin on the dashboard of my car
When I'm goin' fornicatin
I got my ceramic Satan
Sinnin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
The women know I'm on the level
Thanks to the wild-eyed stoneware devil
Ridin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Sneerin' from the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Leering from the dashboard of my van
I don't care if I'm broke or starvin'
As long as I've got a fish named Darwin
Glued to the trunklid of my car
God, I'm feeling so evolved
Drivin' with my problems solved
Proclaiming what I think of what we are
Riding home one foggy night,
With my honey cuddled tight,
I missed a curve and off the road we veered.
My windshield got smashed-up good,
And my darling graced the hood.
Plastic Jesus, He had disappeared.
{As refrain}
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
No longer chides me with His holy grin.
Doctors in the X-ray room
Found Him in my darling's womb.
Someday, He'll be born again!
I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I got my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
He's the dude with the rusty nails,
Walks on water, don't need no sails
Riding on the dashboard of me car
I don't care if the night is scary
As long as I got the Virgin Mary
Sittin' on the dashboard of my car.
She don't slip and she don't slide
Cuz her ass is magnetized
Sittin' on the dashboard of my car.
posted by quonsar at 7:10 AM on May 10, 2004
'Long as I got my Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car.
Through my trials and tribulations
And my travels through the nations
With my Plastic Jesus I'll go far.
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car
I'm afraid He'll have to go.
His magnets ruin my radio
And if I have a wreck He'll leave a scar.
Riding down a thoroughfare
With His nose up in the air,
A wreck may be ahead, but He don't mind.
Trouble coming He don't see,
He just keeps His eye on me
And any other thing that lies behind.
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Though the sunshine on His back
Make Him peel, chip and crack,
A little patching keeps Him up to par.
When I'm in a traffic jam
He don't care if I say "damn"
I can let all my curses roll
Plastic Jesus doesn't hear
'Cause he has a plastic ear
The man who invented plastic saved my soul.
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Once His robe was snowy white,
Now it isn't quite so bright -
Stained by the smoke of my cigar.
If I weave around at night,
And policemen think I'm tight,
They never find my bottle - though they ask.
Plastic Jesus shelters me,
For His head comes off, you see
He's hollow, and I use Him for a flask.
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
Riding on the dashboard of my car ...
Ride with me and have a dram
Of the blood of the Lamb -
Plastic Jesus is a holy bar.
[Plastic Jesus has become quite entrenched in the folk tradition, so there are considerably more folk verses than there were original ones. Following are folk additions and emendations, as well as additions from recording artists who have covered this song.]
Well, I don't care if it rains or freezes,
Long as I have my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
I could go a hundred miles an hour
Long as I got the Almighty Power
Glued up there with my pair of fuzzy dice
{Refrain - repeat between every verse}
Plastic Jesus, plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Through all trials and tribulations,
We will travel every nation,
With my plastic Jesus I'll go far.
I don't care if it rains or freezes
As long as I've got my Plastic Jesus
Glued to the dashboard of my car,
You can buy Him phosphorescent
Glows in the dark, He's Pink and Pleasant,
Take Him with you when you're travelling far
I don't care if it's dark or scary
Long as I have magnetic Mary
Ridin' on the dashboard of my car
I feel I'm protected amply
I've got the whole damn Holy Family
Riding on the dashboard of my car
You can buy a Sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a
Pedestal of abalone shell
Goin' ninety, I'm not wary
'Cause I've got my Virgin Mary
Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell
I don't care what they say, I'm gonna
Keep on prayin' to that pink madonna
Melted to the dashboard of my car.
I don't care if it bumps or jostles
Long as I got the Twelve Apostles
Bolted to the dashboard of my car
Don't I have a pious mess
Such a crowd of holiness
Strung across the dashboard of my car
No, I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I have my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
But I think he'll have to go
His magnet ruins my radio
And if we have a wreck he'll leave a scar
Riding through the thoroughfare
With his nose up in the air
A wreck may be ahead, but he don't mind
Trouble coming, he don't see
He just keeps his eyes on me
And any other thing that lies behind
{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Though the sun shines on his back
Makes him peel, chip, and crack
A little patching keeps him up to par
When pedestrians try to cross
I let them know who's boss
I never blow my horn or give them warning
I ride all over town
Trying to run them down
And it's seldom that they live to see the morning
{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
His halo fits just right
And I use it as a sight
And they'll scatter or they'll splatter near and far
When I'm in a traffic jam
He don't care if I say Damn
I can let all sorts of curses roll
Plastic Jesus doesn't hear
For he has a plastic ear
The man who invented plastic saved my soul
{as refrain}
Plastic Jesus, Plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
Once his robe was snowy white
Now it isn't quite so bright
Stained by the smoke of my cigar
God made Christ a Holy Jew
God made Him a Christian too
Paradoxes populate my car
Joseph beams with a feigned elan
From the shaggy dash of my furlined van
Famous cuckold in the master plan
Naughty Mary, smug and smiling
Jesus dainty and beguiling
Knee-deep in the piling of my van
His message clear by night or day
My phosphorescent plastic Gay
Simpering from the dashboard of my van
You can buy Him phosphorescent
Glows in the dark, He's Pink and Pleasant,
Take Him with you when you're travelling far.
You can buy a Sweet Madonna
Dressed in rhinestones sitting on a
Pedestal of abalone shell.
Goin' ninety, I'm not wary'
Cause I've got my Virgin Mary,
Guaranteeing I won't go to Hell.
Rain and Snow are not an issue
long as I got my plastic Vishnu
Sittin on the dashboard of my car
When I'm goin' fornicatin
I got my ceramic Satan
Sinnin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
The women know I'm on the level
Thanks to the wild-eyed stoneware devil
Ridin' on the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Sneerin' from the dashboard of my Winnebago Motor Home
Leering from the dashboard of my van
I don't care if I'm broke or starvin'
As long as I've got a fish named Darwin
Glued to the trunklid of my car
God, I'm feeling so evolved
Drivin' with my problems solved
Proclaiming what I think of what we are
Riding home one foggy night,
With my honey cuddled tight,
I missed a curve and off the road we veered.
My windshield got smashed-up good,
And my darling graced the hood.
Plastic Jesus, He had disappeared.
{As refrain}
Plastic Jesus! Plastic Jesus,
No longer chides me with His holy grin.
Doctors in the X-ray room
Found Him in my darling's womb.
Someday, He'll be born again!
I don't care if it rains or freezes
Long as I got my plastic Jesus
Riding on the dashboard of my car
He's the dude with the rusty nails,
Walks on water, don't need no sails
Riding on the dashboard of me car
I don't care if the night is scary
As long as I got the Virgin Mary
Sittin' on the dashboard of my car.
She don't slip and she don't slide
Cuz her ass is magnetized
Sittin' on the dashboard of my car.
posted by quonsar at 7:10 AM on May 10, 2004
Google and disparaging comments aside, Avalokitesvara is well worth a post.
Avalokitesvara and his/her (she is sometimes portrayed as female) images are awesome, wonderful and beautiful.
What an incredible symbol s/he is! The embodiment of compassion, a being whose head burst from awareness of the world's suffering, who grew many heads and arms to attempt the impossible task of healing that suffering. Anyone with a heart sometimes feels similarly. Any heart that does not resonate to Avalokitesvara's beautiful metaphor deserves pity.
[Kanzeon]'ll vanquish your enemies and everything.
Heh, I'm not sure about that, but Vajrapani always struck me as the asskicker of the bunch although, "as a representation of the enlightened mind, he's completely free from hatred," of course ;-)
posted by Shane at 7:22 AM on May 10, 2004
Avalokitesvara and his/her (she is sometimes portrayed as female) images are awesome, wonderful and beautiful.
What an incredible symbol s/he is! The embodiment of compassion, a being whose head burst from awareness of the world's suffering, who grew many heads and arms to attempt the impossible task of healing that suffering. Anyone with a heart sometimes feels similarly. Any heart that does not resonate to Avalokitesvara's beautiful metaphor deserves pity.
[Kanzeon]'ll vanquish your enemies and everything.
Heh, I'm not sure about that, but Vajrapani always struck me as the asskicker of the bunch although, "as a representation of the enlightened mind, he's completely free from hatred," of course ;-)
posted by Shane at 7:22 AM on May 10, 2004
Avalokitesvara is cool and all, but that Tara is a hottie. :)
posted by Foosnark at 7:58 AM on May 10, 2004
posted by Foosnark at 7:58 AM on May 10, 2004
thanks for sure, hama7 -- dont let the bi-polar newsfilterians get you down
posted by Satapher at 11:46 AM on May 10, 2004
posted by Satapher at 11:46 AM on May 10, 2004
Great links amphigory, and many thanks for yours too Shane. One of my favorite images is linked to the letter "i" above. Thank you carter and Satapher.
posted by hama7 at 2:23 PM on May 10, 2004
posted by hama7 at 2:23 PM on May 10, 2004
Overheard at the Dharma Deli: Gimmee a Tara on wry, hold the Mara.
By and by they blew the highball whistle after the eastbound freight had smashed through on the main line and we pulled out as the air got colder and fog began to blow from the sea over the warm valleys of the coast. Both the little bum and I, after unsuccessful attempt to huddle on the cold steel in wraparounds, got up and paced back and forth and jumped and flapped arms at each our end of the gon. Pretty soon we headed into another siding at a small railroad town and I figured I needed a poorboy of Tokay wine to complete the cold dusk run to Santa Barbara. "Will you watch my pack while I run over there and get a bottle of wine?"
"Sure thing."
I jumped over the side and ran across Highway 101 to the store, and brought, besides, wine, a little bread and candy. I ran back to my freight train which had another fifteen minutes to wait in the now warm sunny scene. But it was later afternoon and bound to get cold soon. The little bum was sitting crosslegged at his end before a pitiful repast of one can of sardines. I took pity on him and went over and said, "How about a little wine to warm you up? Maybe you'd like some bread and cheese with your sardines."
"Sure thing." He spoke from far away inside a little meek voice-box afraid or unwilling to assert himself. I'd bought the cheese three days ago in Mexico City before the long cheap bus trip across Zacatecas and Durango and Chihuahua two thousand long miles to the border at El Paso. He ate the cheese and bread and drank the wine with gusto and gratitude. I was pleased. I reminded myself of the line in the Diamond Sutra that says "Practice charity without holding in mind any conceptions about charity, for charity after all is just a word." I was very devout in those days and was practicing my religious devotions almost to perfection. Since then I've become a little hypocritical about my lip-service and a little tired and cynical. Because now I am grown so old and neutral....But then I really believe in the reality of charity and kindness and humility and zeal and neutral tranquility and wisdom and ecstacy, and I believed that I was an oldtime bhikku in modern clothes wandering the world (usually the immense triangular arc of New York to Mexico City to San Francisco) in order to turn the wheel of the True Meaning, or Dharma, and gain merit for myself as a future Buddha (Awakener) and as a future Hero in Paradise. I had not met Japhy Ryder yet (I was about to the next week) or heard anything about "Dharma Bums" although at this time I was a perfect Dharma Bum myself and considered myself a religious wanderer. The little bum in the gondola solidified all my beliefs by warming up to the wine and talking and finally whipping out a tiny slip of paper which contained a prayer by Saint Teresa announcing that after her death she will return to the earth by showering it with roses from heaven, forever, for all living creatures....
Japhy wasn't big, just about five foot seven, but strong and wiry and fast and muscular. His face was a mask of weeful bone, but his eyes twinkled like the eyes of old giggling sages of China, over that little goatee, to offset the rough look of his handsome face. His teeth were a little brown, from early backwoods neglect, but you never noticed that and he opened his mouth wide to guffaw at jokes. Sometimes he'd quiet down and just stare sadly at the floors, like a man whittling. He was merry at times. He showed great sympathetic interest in me and in the story about the little Saint Teresa bum and the stories I told him about my own experiences hopping freights or hitchhiking or hiking in woods. He claimed at once that I was a great "bodhisattva," meaning "great wise being" or "great wise angel," and that I was ornamenting this world with my sincerity. We had the same favorite Buddhist saint, too: Avalokitesvara, or in Japanese, Kwannon the Eleven-headed. He knew all the details of Tibetan, Chines, Mahayana, Hinayana, Japanese and even Burmese Buddhism but I warned him at one I didn't give a goodamn about mythology and the names and national flavors of Buddhism, but was just interested in the first of Sakyamuni's four noble truths All life is suffering.
-- The Dharma Bums, Jack Kerouac
One night I dreamed of being shipwrecked, of clinging to a spar in a furiously raging sea. Mountainous waves curved about me like writhing dragons until, at last, I was cast upon a shore of unearthly beauty. Overlooking the rocky coast, a hill of turquoise rose from a forest of jade that was watered by foaming cascades of milk-white purity. The wings of birds and insects had a jewelled sheen; the spotted deer had coats of white and crimson fur. How could I doubt that I had come upon the seagirt paradise, Potala? Awed, but joyous, I climbed swiftly towards the crest of the hill.
I had been observed, for a young girl came running down the slope to greet me. Her charming little feet seemed scarcely to touch the rocks over which she sped. When she turned and signaled me to follow her, I had difficulty in keeping up and was irked to notice how torn she was between good manners and an urge to burst out laughing. On our reaching the mouth of a great turquoise cavern, she ran in and soon disappeared from view, leaving me to follow as best I could. We had come to this place by skirting a lake of gold-flecked blue, an arm of which ran into the cave, its blue water hidden beneath masses of pink and white lotus. Though no direct sunlight penetrated beyond the entrance, the cave was illuminated as though by bright sunshine and a delicate fragrance filled the air. In the centre was a throne-shaped rock. Though it had neither cushions nor occupant, I knew it for the Bodhisattva's own and, kneeling, bowed my head to the gleaming silver sand at its foot.
As I did so, my name was spoken by a voice as melodious as the tinkling of jade ornaments, the syllables distinct and long drawn out.
"Cheng-Li, when my vow was uttered many aeons ago, I though I had made things simple. Why do you strive? Let go! The whole Mahayana Canon contains no greater wisom than the wisdom of letting go. This is also called dana, giving."
There came a sweetly joyous laugh, then silence. I knew I was alone in that shining cave. Already the magical colours were fading into powder-fine coloured sparks that vanished one by one. Darkness followed and, stretching out my hand, I brushed it against the gauze curtains that hung around my bed.
Now I have done with sutras and pious practics. Day and night I recite the Bodhisattva's sacred name, rejoicing in the beauty of its sound. Not for me its recitation in multiples of a hundred and eight, as though it were a duty. Does the runner count his breaths or the poet his words, or the stream its ripples? You sentient beings who seek deliverance, why do you not - let go? When sad, let go of the cause for sadness. When wrathful, let go of the occasion of wrath. When covetous or lustful, let go of the object of desire. From moment to moment, be free of self. Where no self is, there can be no sorrow, no desire; no I to weep, no I to lust, no "being" to die or be reborn. The winds of circumstances blow across emptiness. Whom can they harm"?
-- Bodhisattva of Compassion, The Mystical Tradition of Kuan Yin.
John Blofield
From a world crying out from war and torture and terror and poverty, from a world where some wish to merely stifle or ignore those painful cries, a bow to whom the faithful say is she who hearkens to the cries of the world.
posted by fold_and_mutilate at 2:37 PM on May 10, 2004
By and by they blew the highball whistle after the eastbound freight had smashed through on the main line and we pulled out as the air got colder and fog began to blow from the sea over the warm valleys of the coast. Both the little bum and I, after unsuccessful attempt to huddle on the cold steel in wraparounds, got up and paced back and forth and jumped and flapped arms at each our end of the gon. Pretty soon we headed into another siding at a small railroad town and I figured I needed a poorboy of Tokay wine to complete the cold dusk run to Santa Barbara. "Will you watch my pack while I run over there and get a bottle of wine?"
"Sure thing."
I jumped over the side and ran across Highway 101 to the store, and brought, besides, wine, a little bread and candy. I ran back to my freight train which had another fifteen minutes to wait in the now warm sunny scene. But it was later afternoon and bound to get cold soon. The little bum was sitting crosslegged at his end before a pitiful repast of one can of sardines. I took pity on him and went over and said, "How about a little wine to warm you up? Maybe you'd like some bread and cheese with your sardines."
"Sure thing." He spoke from far away inside a little meek voice-box afraid or unwilling to assert himself. I'd bought the cheese three days ago in Mexico City before the long cheap bus trip across Zacatecas and Durango and Chihuahua two thousand long miles to the border at El Paso. He ate the cheese and bread and drank the wine with gusto and gratitude. I was pleased. I reminded myself of the line in the Diamond Sutra that says "Practice charity without holding in mind any conceptions about charity, for charity after all is just a word." I was very devout in those days and was practicing my religious devotions almost to perfection. Since then I've become a little hypocritical about my lip-service and a little tired and cynical. Because now I am grown so old and neutral....But then I really believe in the reality of charity and kindness and humility and zeal and neutral tranquility and wisdom and ecstacy, and I believed that I was an oldtime bhikku in modern clothes wandering the world (usually the immense triangular arc of New York to Mexico City to San Francisco) in order to turn the wheel of the True Meaning, or Dharma, and gain merit for myself as a future Buddha (Awakener) and as a future Hero in Paradise. I had not met Japhy Ryder yet (I was about to the next week) or heard anything about "Dharma Bums" although at this time I was a perfect Dharma Bum myself and considered myself a religious wanderer. The little bum in the gondola solidified all my beliefs by warming up to the wine and talking and finally whipping out a tiny slip of paper which contained a prayer by Saint Teresa announcing that after her death she will return to the earth by showering it with roses from heaven, forever, for all living creatures....
Japhy wasn't big, just about five foot seven, but strong and wiry and fast and muscular. His face was a mask of weeful bone, but his eyes twinkled like the eyes of old giggling sages of China, over that little goatee, to offset the rough look of his handsome face. His teeth were a little brown, from early backwoods neglect, but you never noticed that and he opened his mouth wide to guffaw at jokes. Sometimes he'd quiet down and just stare sadly at the floors, like a man whittling. He was merry at times. He showed great sympathetic interest in me and in the story about the little Saint Teresa bum and the stories I told him about my own experiences hopping freights or hitchhiking or hiking in woods. He claimed at once that I was a great "bodhisattva," meaning "great wise being" or "great wise angel," and that I was ornamenting this world with my sincerity. We had the same favorite Buddhist saint, too: Avalokitesvara, or in Japanese, Kwannon the Eleven-headed. He knew all the details of Tibetan, Chines, Mahayana, Hinayana, Japanese and even Burmese Buddhism but I warned him at one I didn't give a goodamn about mythology and the names and national flavors of Buddhism, but was just interested in the first of Sakyamuni's four noble truths All life is suffering.
-- The Dharma Bums, Jack Kerouac
One night I dreamed of being shipwrecked, of clinging to a spar in a furiously raging sea. Mountainous waves curved about me like writhing dragons until, at last, I was cast upon a shore of unearthly beauty. Overlooking the rocky coast, a hill of turquoise rose from a forest of jade that was watered by foaming cascades of milk-white purity. The wings of birds and insects had a jewelled sheen; the spotted deer had coats of white and crimson fur. How could I doubt that I had come upon the seagirt paradise, Potala? Awed, but joyous, I climbed swiftly towards the crest of the hill.
I had been observed, for a young girl came running down the slope to greet me. Her charming little feet seemed scarcely to touch the rocks over which she sped. When she turned and signaled me to follow her, I had difficulty in keeping up and was irked to notice how torn she was between good manners and an urge to burst out laughing. On our reaching the mouth of a great turquoise cavern, she ran in and soon disappeared from view, leaving me to follow as best I could. We had come to this place by skirting a lake of gold-flecked blue, an arm of which ran into the cave, its blue water hidden beneath masses of pink and white lotus. Though no direct sunlight penetrated beyond the entrance, the cave was illuminated as though by bright sunshine and a delicate fragrance filled the air. In the centre was a throne-shaped rock. Though it had neither cushions nor occupant, I knew it for the Bodhisattva's own and, kneeling, bowed my head to the gleaming silver sand at its foot.
As I did so, my name was spoken by a voice as melodious as the tinkling of jade ornaments, the syllables distinct and long drawn out.
"Cheng-Li, when my vow was uttered many aeons ago, I though I had made things simple. Why do you strive? Let go! The whole Mahayana Canon contains no greater wisom than the wisdom of letting go. This is also called dana, giving."
There came a sweetly joyous laugh, then silence. I knew I was alone in that shining cave. Already the magical colours were fading into powder-fine coloured sparks that vanished one by one. Darkness followed and, stretching out my hand, I brushed it against the gauze curtains that hung around my bed.
Now I have done with sutras and pious practics. Day and night I recite the Bodhisattva's sacred name, rejoicing in the beauty of its sound. Not for me its recitation in multiples of a hundred and eight, as though it were a duty. Does the runner count his breaths or the poet his words, or the stream its ripples? You sentient beings who seek deliverance, why do you not - let go? When sad, let go of the cause for sadness. When wrathful, let go of the occasion of wrath. When covetous or lustful, let go of the object of desire. From moment to moment, be free of self. Where no self is, there can be no sorrow, no desire; no I to weep, no I to lust, no "being" to die or be reborn. The winds of circumstances blow across emptiness. Whom can they harm"?
-- Bodhisattva of Compassion, The Mystical Tradition of Kuan Yin.
John Blofield
From a world crying out from war and torture and terror and poverty, from a world where some wish to merely stifle or ignore those painful cries, a bow to whom the faithful say is she who hearkens to the cries of the world.
posted by fold_and_mutilate at 2:37 PM on May 10, 2004
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Also known as Lokeshvara in Sanskrit, Quan Yin, Guanyin, or Guan Shiyin in Chinese, Spyan-ras-gzigs in Tibetan, and variously Kannon Bosatsu, Kanjizai, Kanzeon, and Kwannon, in Japanese.
posted by hama7 at 4:23 PM on May 9, 2004