41 Joy

My god!

I had entered and passed over into another realm.

I tried to lie down and rest but there was only death there.

I tried to meditate but death forced itself upon me.

Death said it was close and that it would not wait for the truth.

Death.

It was truth, it was the only truth, it didn't care about my fears or my anxieties, it didn't care about my reputation or agonies or failures or successes or my future, my job or my pensions, it didn't care what my family thought, the thoughts of my parents, my grandparents, my wife, my children, my friends or associates, it didn't care about their embarrassments, their shames, their guilts, fears, regrets, concerns, reputations, exposures, it didn't care about the government or the law, about lawsuits or judgments or arrests, penalties or enforcements, executions or tortures, death didn't care about anything at all except the truth, and it wouldn't wait for the changes of societies, governments, for the laws to change, for the culture, for the churches to change, for the morals and mores and customs and conventions to change, or for the liberalization of national states or ecclesiastical polity, or for me to gain strength and courage, or for me to grow safer or more secure or to provide for my children or to make the right preparations or to convert or to gather support or gain adherents, followers, apostles, disciples, or to build a church or churches, or to hire a lawyer or a firm of lawyers or to get a law degree or a phd or to strike it rich or for the wheels and astrological signs of the zodiac to turn and arrange themselves in meaningful and fortuitous conjunctions.

Death didn't give a damn about any of those things, death didn't give anything at all, death was just death, and when I was dead my enlightenment and its truth or untruth would be dead with me if I did not express it as it was and shout it and say it and sing it and write it and teach it and draw it and live it and be it.

I didn't want to be dead.

I didn't want that miracle to be dead with me.

I didn't want to maintain that Buddhist silence any longer, I didn't want to be Joyce, to be smart, to be careful, to be shrewd, to be cunning, to plan and to plot and to beware.

I wanted to let it all spill out in torrents and floods of light, oceans of light, the stars swollen to suns, the sky and the heavens white with light, the light opening the dead and darkened eyes, making the flesh transparent, the flesh and bone become form and color, the line and contour still sharp and definite but the beauty and body ideal and free from ignorance, prejudice, and fear, perfect, the white yellow bright golden auras glowing as visible and real as full moons encircling their heads, their eyes glowing white and yellow as fires, their pink and white mouths open in wide beautiful smiles and glorious laughter and joy, joy of fulfillment and realization of salvation, total salvation, of complete union and redemption and joy, yes, joy, joy, I could say it as often as I wanted, joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, joy, it was fantastic and extreme, it had all come true and not one beauty had been omitted, not one creature had been left out, not one tragedy nor sickness nor evil yet remained, and all had been made whole, true, beautiful, and good.

The beings I saw were not angels nor air nor spirits nor the substance of dream but the actual living, breathing, thinking, touching beings of flesh and bone I knew and loved, just the people of the real world made spirit and angel by my cleansed and perfect vision and by their own faith and by the oneness of god, and they stepped down the stairs and corridors and halls fully in grace, grouped about one another like families and friends and lovers, and moved towards me, mute me, me in awe, awed, odd, wordless, speechless, understanding.

Understanding all.

Witness.