The Emerald Buddha

 

Edna Leana and I entered and found our way to a vacant place on the floor. Some monks came in and knelt a few feet in front of us. They carried with them offerings of flowers, undoubtedly from devotees, and they prayed and meditated as well. As is my habit in such situations, I closed my eyes and attempted to establish a state of inner silence in order to be open to the very powerful energy of the temple. Edna Leana and I sat for perhaps an hour, during which time I began to feel that it was the distance of the Emerald Buddha from the activity below that gave this Wat its unique experience. From his height, which for me is synonymous with his state of consciousness, he seemed absorbed in that state of absolute Reality and consciousness where all creation is non-existent. Below him, people were respectful or not—one woman walked around talking on her cell phone. But to the Emerald Buddha none of it seemed to matter because he was not conscious of any of it. It led me to consider the question, what, if anything, really does matter?

 Viewed from the perspective that in the end, when the final goal is attained and only eternal reality exists, then how important really is all this, i.e. all that the world holds so dear, all the distinctions we make and the significance we place on things, all of our strivings, good or bad, high or low, righteous or lewd? Sitting in this Wat, I tried to fathom the Beyond State of Divine Vacuum the Buddha called Nirvana. I remember that Gurdjieff once said something to the effect that, “He who takes everything seriously cannot be very serious.” Perhaps my contemplation creates a perspective to his simple remark? 

                                                        

 

                                                                 The Emerald Buddha 

                                                         (In Nirvikalpa Samadhi)

                                                                                                          By Michael Kovitz 

 Birth and breath,

Life and death,

The sacred and the mundane,

 

Joys and sorrows,

Good and bad,

Curses and prayers,

Pass beneath you —

 

I look up to glimpse you

Ensconced in your heavenly tower.

I wonder: When you see only everything,

Does this everything include nothing?

 

I close my eyes and watch my thoughts,

Does any of it really matter?

 

Your presence beyond reminds me,

My world is dust crumbling into dust —

I contemplate,

What is seeing everything without seeing nothing?

 

 

 

                                                                                                © copyright 2006 Michael Kovitz