Kundalini Splendor

The Buddha’s Last Instruction

(poem by Mary Oliver)

“Make of yourself a light,”said the Buddha,

before he died.
I think of this every morning
as the east begins

to tear off its many clouds

of darkness, to send up the first

signal – a white fan

streaked with pink and violet,

even green.

An old man, he lay down

between two sala trees,

and he might have said anything,

knowing it was his final hour.

The light burns upward,

it thickens and settles over the fields.

Around him, the villagers gathered

and stretched forward to listen.

Even before the sun itself

hangs, disattached, in the blue air,

I am touched everywhere

by its ocean of yellow waves.

No doubt he thought of everything

that had happened in his difficult life.

And then I feel the sun itself

as it blazes over the hills,

like a million flowers on fire--

clearly I'm not needed,

yet I feel myself turning

into something of inexplicable value.

Slowly, beneath the branches,

he raised his head.

He looked into the faces of that frightened crowd.

Mary Oliver

(House of Light)

Like Mary Oliver, I too often think of this final admonition from Buddha. Sometimes it is translated as, "Be a light unto yourself," and the common interpretation is to follow your own path, to let your own inner guidance open the way in front of you.

And this is in fact what I have now done (again). I left San Francisco after twenty-one years and moved back to Boulder, where my heart has rested for the more than forty years since I left. It has proved to be a wise decision. This town is not the place I once lived (I was then a beginning instructor of English at the University of Colorado, located here). At that time it was a fairly small mountain town (about 75,000 people situated at the foot of the Rockies, with little traffic and lots of skiers and outdoor types. It still has the skiers and outdoor people, but now it is a bustling city of around 375,000 (I was told), with high rise commercial buildings downtown and heavy traffic on many of its streets. The city experienced an infusion of high tech and scientific interests some years ago; as its reputation has grown, many people from across the world have come to live here, some of whom are extremely affluent.

But--the mountains are still here as is the wonderful Boulder Creek, a crystal clear stream that runs from one end of the city to the other over a beautiful rock bed stream. There is a seven-mile walking trail along the edge of the creek, all (thank goodness) flat.

Boulder is a very health conscious city, with great respect for the environment as well as the life of the spirit. It is now rated as one of the best places to live in the country. To me, it seems like the ideal place to spend the rest of my retirement.

Every move of this magnitude is both a death and a rebirth. One leaves with sadness the friends of many years, the special places one has learned to love--even the familiar commercial streets and stores. Everything has to be learned anew in the new location. But one finds new friends who come to aid in the adjustment. I had a host of "angels" to help me prepare for this move. And here I have other angels to help me--including a very generous landlord who even set up my computer for me and Beth Reninger (poet, chi gong teacher, acupuncturist, and nature lover) who has helped me in innumerable ways. I am still unpacking my many, many boxes, but Beth shelved all of my books, and I can now literally reach out and touch Rumi and Mary Oliver and Denise Levertov and other old friends as I sit at my computer. Indeed, my apartment feels fully like home--the place I was meant to be.

Of course, there were the usual hitches in the course of the move. Fed Ex lost my computer monitor en route, so, after two weeks of waiting, I ordered another, which arrived the day after Fed Ex finally located and delivered mine. I couldn't locate my T. V. receiver in the midst of my pyramid of belongings, and so couldn't watch the documentaries I love for evening viewing. Indeed, all I had for some time was an ancient radio which picked up one station (BBC America) and some others I didn't care to listen to. After being so "cut off" for such a long period, I decided I would not make a very good saint in a cave--I prefer feeling connected to the world about (though in a selective fashion.)

I arrived well but totally exhausted. For the first few days, I more or less just sat on my balcony and looked at the mountains (in between naps). Gradually, my energies returned, and now I am feeling back to "normal" (whatever that may be.) I am grateful to have been allowed to achieve this long time dream of return to the mountains, and am at last feeling prepared to explore more fully this new/old world.

Love and blessings to all. I'll be in touch with further reflections from now on.

Dorothy

(The picture at the top is what I see from my balcony.)

Dorothy

(The picture is of my view from my window--amazing!)