Memories, of the past, translated…
As New Years approached that year, the master of my religious group sent over a basket of almond oil lamps, the scent of the almonds, the lamps in the bright off-red celebratory colors, inside the tiny glass, with the wick attached.
The master told me, “use it for anything, meditation, worship, so long as you keep your heart clear, and the light will reflect how you feel.”
“Measured by Heart and Mind”, was what the master lived by, but, having soaked myself in words my whole life, I’d, hesitated, thought to myself: your heart’s bright now, and, it’s, in this, very moment.
like this???
I kept that lamp, and still hadn’t, lit it up, or, done my penance by it, I’d, kept lighting up the incense, in the three deities in my own shrine. The lamps are a way of life for the Tibetans, drinking the teas, with the thickness, the aroma of the goat’s milk, the scent swayed in the wind, and everybody’s heart is, swaying too, this is, something, we’re, used to, seeing. One day, we are, headed to the temple at Lhasa for a mecca, to deliver the will of the master from Hualien.
That lamp was misplaced later, like that dream in springtime, maybe, it’d, evaporated, with the air. As I was younger, I’d loved, having a butter candy in my mouth, and, I’d, felt unwilling, to eat it all at once, spat it out, wrapped it in my handkerchief, then, I’d, forgotten about it, and it was, gone. And, the oil lamp was like my butter candy as a grown up.
At the Buddhist temple in Changwha, there’s, this sea of lamp being alit throughout the years, I’d recalled how the 17th master preached to us, “Buddhism is, pointing a way to your troubles and worries in life”, he said, “I’m quite young, but I can, be persistent.”
And, guess I’ll, view the oil lamps from the angles of listening, and discovery, to understand it, as it’s burning, the body is, painful, like how the Buddhist mecca worked, the Master of All Treasures told, “Being in meditation means you give up your bliss, as well as your selves, and persisting through the process, no matter how much pain it makes you feel.” “Buddha once stated, that the guardian he has, is himself, that everyone’s guardian can’t be found, elsewhere.”
Your guardian is close by your side, the female keeper of the temple told me, to keep the lamps lit at all times is, troubling. “the professionals come and switch out the wicks in the morn, and you can’t tilt the wicks, or allow the light to go out.”
As the travelers stopped for a bit, in the intersections of time, with the elderly woman’s keeping guard, watching over the lamps, ‘We’d passed the temples to see, and, we see that patch of gold, and that sense of, not paying it enough attention, actually, takes, a lot of time to keep up.” I’d wanted to, have my own lamp light up too, the elderly woman told, you need to wait, there’s, NO more room.
In Changwha, if the lamp is for oneself, then, you’re, burning your self, to shed light on your own futures, it’s considered, a gift, from oneself. “Our lives are, in our grasps, how you live it, is up to you, otherwise, it’ll be like that oil lamp in the paintings, looked like an oil lamp, but, taking it into the darkness, and it doesn’t, chase the darkness away.”
the light that shone from within us…
The real oil lamp, is the choice inside each and every one of us, I chose light, but, I’m, drawn in, to the darkness.
I sat in front of this, patch of lit up oil lamps, my thoughts slowly, sank, the lamps are the smiles of the fires, the leaps of the wind, inside of my body, burning, with knowledge.
And so, this, is on how meditation worked, you need to be able to be calm, and then, the rest of your world will also be calm, because you are what matters in this world, there’s, NOBODY else who’ll, be who you’re, supposed to be.