Chapter 10 - The Evening Lake

I admire the evening Lake. The sky seems to have donned a glittering yellow cassock. The Lake's demeanor is calm and relaxed. The unfathomable Lake, like a sage's prayer, manifests tranquility.

I often walk over the green grass to get to the sands by the lakeside, holding my palms together, to pay homage to the evening Lake.

The evening Lake, so beautiful, shimmering with a yellow glow.

The evening Lake, so beautiful, like an honorable sage.

The evening Lake, so beautiful and innocent and mysterious, like a child.

At this one moment filled with tranquility, everything is crystal clear. There is no need to use language. No need to think. To be here at the evening Lake, to be in such a pastoral scene, much must have already been accomplished.

I find that there are many loopholes in the doctrines of man. Many Buddhists have gone into the world of The Tripitaka, the Buddhist Canon, and fallen into the brambles of contradictory and paradoxical semantics. Entangled by the branches and leaves, they cannot struggle to set themselves free.

I have also tried this; holding on to one or two sentences in the Sutra, I can imagine them beautiful, or ugly, or I can turn them into something holy or wicked. Within the text, there are many contradictions. Should one accept or reject it?

But, in the midst of the evening Lake, such concern does not seem important any more. The man, bathing in the holy light, simply brings his palms together. In this world, he works only toward releasing men from their afflictions.

Language sometimes is useless. To be wordless is pure and innocent.

The perfect doctrines of the world are all wordless.

They can only be understood by the mind.

Many people begin the search of perfect doctrines by studying the extra. Many start out by reciting the names of Buddha. Many start out with meditation. Many start out by listening to a teacher expound on the sutras. They begin with self searching, self evolving.

They try to achieve realization by reading sutras, by reciting the name of Buddhas, by meditation, and by listening to dharma talks. So many different methods to search for the Way, to find the perfect Doctrine. But, in addition to thirsting for knowledge, I hope everyone will also take a bath in Nature's holy light.

Under the light of the evening Lake, doctrines disappear.

In the silent tranquility of the evening Lake, contradictory ideas are tossed out.

In the midst of the mystique of the evening Lake, all contemplation is unnecessary.

What I breathe in is Buddha. What I breathe out is also Buddha.

In this one moment, there is no so-called I, no seven emotions¹, no six sexual attractions², no beginning, no end, no correct doctrines, no misleading doctrines, no thought, no precious teachings, no perfect Way, no choices, no rejections, .... It is clear that this is Liberation.

Cultivation is sometimes more than what is on the surface. I know many people wear a hypocritic facade, but they deceive only themselves. They think that daily rituals are the essence of cultivation, and they think they will obtain peace and tranquility this way.

They do not know that they have to immerse themselves into Nature in order to receive the Light of the Universe.

Evening at Lake Sammamish. The surface of the lake glows with a faint sheen. The mountains surrounding the lake are the gesturing arms of the Dharma Protectors. Bright golden sky. Such postures, carefreeness, and majesty. Sincerely moved, I join my palms together and quiet all my thoughts.

Evening at Lake Sammamish. Like a hymn! This hymn is like oxygen, entering the right nostril, leaving the left nostril, entering the left nostril, leaving the right nostril, until the mind fills with beauty, perfection and nobility. This hymn, mysterious and purely beautiful!

Evening at Lake Sammamish. It naturally brings forth its interpretation of Existence and Non-existence. It has its natural brilliance. The dazzling golden lake light is actually not lake light, but rather, thousands, and tens of thousands of multi-colored rays of great wisdom, with thousands, and tens of thousands of lotus flowers blossoming in the rays.

Evening at Lake Sammamish. Tiers of mountains, tiers of water, tiers of sky. Especially the golden hued sun, transforming into the appearance of a thousand lotus flowers, tens of thousands of lotus flowers.

Let me write a poem! It will be a poem of the inner mind, with everything condensed into it:

Here I unite my palms,

Drift no more, dear spirit;

All is forgotten,

Including all Sorrow.

Evening at Lake Sammamish,

Showered with Holy Light, like Buddha;

A hymn naturally sacred and pure,

That can be seen without eyes.

Toolbox

Back Top Print Bookmark Tell a friend:

© 2008 Padmakumara. All Rights Reserved.
Copyright & Terms of Use.