Vue Directe - Voie Directe
Sixteenth Movement.
The One we were waiting for.
The wind ceased. The crests no longer sent their ice on the men sheltered behind the palisades.
This sudden silence astonished them. Their brain stopped for a moment and they forgot the constant agitation that reigned as king here: the succession of the Master.
The Roshi listened to the elements. He pricked up his ear towards the crests which did tell him any sound.
His eyes were no longer burned by the icy wind.
What does that mean ?
This nature conducts the men.
It leads them like the ox by the rope in the nostrils.
Here, nothing is free.
Then he covered himself warmly and he went to the torrent near the water hole which had swallowed his first son.
He came under these terrible crests that gave only turmoil in the hearts that could not fall asleep in the comfort of the valley and its voluptuous clouds.
« It is why this place was chosen… One could not become numb there ! »
Thus the men ceased to be ordinary and the force of the nature obliged them to be beyond themselves. Their abused body reminded them the urgency to stay awake..
Yet, they have become numb. They fell asleep in the certainty to be « special »… to be extraordinary people whom the world needs in order to change.
Then he remembered the Teachings of his two sons :
« Only the indispensability is the engine of action in the Yam ! »
After a pause that seemed to bring them into a space of suffering, they murmured :
« But when the Yam is in the Bam, has a body, the Bam manages to conduct and attract the Yam in a particular space that will allow him to use him. The body radiates the force of Yam and the Bam recovers it ! ».
Then, when the Roshi pricked up his ear towards their mouth, he heard unhappy sounds that said in the sadness of the solitary heart :
« The indispensability was no longer then the action… The action was the love of the result and its enjoyment ! »
The Roshi now knows the truth :
« The Bam of this monastery wanted to eat my sons and feed on them ! ».
Because the Bam knows that « Those who know » must come to die in his hands to free themselves from the body he has built for them.
His questioning pending since the beginning of the reading of the Book of « Voyage in Death » has now an answer… The Force that pushes, is well the one of Bam that seeks to be nourished one last once of the Force of The One who Knows.
So, what to do ?
He no longer knows.
He no longer understands.
He can no longer connect his sensations and his intelligence.
Everything seems numb.
Everything seems pending.
Then, he has only the help of the last of the warriors: the action !
The courageous man does ! He provokes the Universe ! A solution will come.
The Roshi returns to his pavilion to the relief of Hiro who never leaves him from the eyes when he approaches the torrent.
In his room, the hot tea is ready with dry cupcakes.
Then he settles on his meditation seat and takes the golden Book in his hands.
He keeps it for a long time before opening it and putting the letters before his eyes.
His lips half-open and the first sounds vibrate in the universe of the men.
The old man quivers with all his fibers. He seems to be in front of an end and he is afraid.
But the courageous man makes !
So he continues to put the letters in front of his eyes and project the sounds for the other men who are his drug.
The Voyage in the Death.
The Rimpo, sitting on his couch and well supported with cushions to relieve his tired back, lets the beauty of new discoveries be released in his body.
He is happy; he feels strong and determined for his next voyage « on the other side ».
- The meeting with you every morning, and sometimes in the evening, is source of life, he says.
- Ah well !
- It is a charge of vitality… and that’s what enables me to be so close to Guru Rimpoche.
- Ah well !
- It is as if he was « always there »… but that it is up to me to go towards Him.
- Ah well !
He takes a few breathings that he has increasingly slow and difficult. He is not far from passing to « the other side », the Rimpo…
It is my juice that still keeps him alive in this body that can’t stand to breathe here.
But I feel that it will soon be the end of holding him in survival… because I perceive the one who we are waiting for coming to put the Guru in state to accompany him in the intermediate space and not to let himself be caught by the promises of sensations which will be proposed to him.
Thus I am nice to him, this old man who has so much given to men.
He manages to overcome the pain of his recent discoveries… Mainly those concerning the « non-help » of the Major Forces of the Universal Love.
He is trying to integrate !
He does not know yet that « to integrate », is not to change the deep structures of behavior.
It is only to find another kind of cerebral organization.
In his Tradition, the Knowledge is enough to transform oneself.
For them, it is the Ignorance that is the source of all the erring ways of the man.
They do not know the Force of life of the Direct View.
So they do not look for it. And since one only finds what one seeks, the loop is quickly closed on the ignorance that believed itself intelligent.
Except the Padma who had this View…
But they have continued without Him.
Then, the Superior Forces of the Universal Love, which were losing their power as the Bam space rotted, were able to take the power… Who from major, went to middle… who from middle, went to minor… what is now, more and more polluted… with less and less space for the activity of the Intelligence of Yam.
This is what passes behind his forehead and transpires in his eyes that look at me with frankness and confidence.
He is afraid, but he has confidence.
He knows now that « Confidence » is the « Door ».
Because now he can no longer do otherwise.
He has no longer the place and time to decide what « Confidence » is.
He knows now that « Confidence » is a physical state that cannot be chosen, but that is necessary.
So he is almost ready for departure.
I have the feeling that it will be for this night… in the peace of silence that he will join in tranquility, without knowing it, without clash.
So I tell him to lie down on his bed.
He calls the monks always being on the look behind the door.
They help him to settle down. They wedge well the head; they place a warm blanket on his fat body.
They install a chair next to him, for me.
Then I come, I close the eyes, I take the Silence with me… I prepare him for « his » meeting.
I lay my hands flat on his belly.
When the warmth comes… that his breathing touches the gentleness of the breath that comes in, that goes out, without effort, like a door that beats in both directions… my hands go up on the heart.
I open again the Gates of the Heaven.
I tell him not to speak… not to say… not to tell…
I tell him to remain with him and to enter these new Dimensions… without following anything… without pursuing anything… without looking for an understanding… just being there !… And to take a good bath.
He falls asleep in the half of the hour…
I continue until I perceive the saturation of his cells.
Then I withdraw gently.
Behind the door, there are the monks who take care of him.
I tell them to always keep one of them near him… permanently.
They understand immediately. Their faces are concerned… But the relief is also in them. The certainties are a relief.
The wind scratched the skin and underneath the skin where there was the blood that was suffering from being so slowed down in its movement giving the life to the body and the mind.
The thought was stiffening.
The steps were made one right after the other, like an endless thread that one unrolls. The pain was with them; the beasts advanced in the effort and those who pushed them with the goad, that they heard to carry the name « of men », bent the back and the neck to hide from the knives of the wind.
The caravan went up the valley, against the torrent that was rumbling. Those who were standing on two legs were shouting. They were warning those coming up of their presence.
The pain and suffering were for them, were in them.
They only saw the figure that was descending when the first yak stopped.
They howled at the newcomer to back up and find a hole in the wall that overhung the precipice.
They opened their eyes to the wind when they saw that the thin figure was leaning with the hand on the forehead of the beast that was lowering the head. It was a dance step between the beast and the man. One lowered its horns, the other stepped over the neck and grabbed the outstretched tail and used it like a rope to jump into the void and find himself behind !
Then the thin figure did it again with the second yak which lent itself to the maneuver with a complacency that left them speechless.
It was at the fifth Yak that they heard the high-pitched and happy laughter of the man who was dancing in this way with the void and the beasts loaded with heavy baskets.
They also heard the mooing of the Yaks. That gave the sounds they emitted when they knew they were close to the farm and were happy about it.
Then at the ninth Yak, the figure was in front of the first man standing.
She was smiling to the wrinkled face.
The caravanner’s lips remained open and gave no sounds. The man with the spirit stiffened by the ice of the wind had no more words left.
- May the peace be in your heart, says the young woman in fornt of him, smiling of the beauty of the life that is not afraid of the cold, because the cold is also her friend.
She is not afraid of the wind either, because the wind is her companion; she is not afraid of the ice of the wind either because the ice is also to accompany the wind.
Also, everything is well thus, and she greets the first caravanner in the smile of the one who knows never to miss anything because death is her friend.
The man does not know how to do anything else but to flatten himself against the icy wall and leave the place to the young woman who slides in front of him at the edge of the precipice which is the death of the one who misses the step.
He has felt heat; his heart jumped. He does not know anymore very well !
She has caressed them with her glance all four of them, saying to each of them :
« May the peace be in your heart ».
They oscillated with the head. They showed that they understood the words. They testified to their presence in the World of the Men.
They were able to follow the figure that slipped further than them.
They were also able to look at each other to convince themselves that they were not dreaming.
They did not hear the words the young woman said to her heart :
« Their beasts have more vitality than them !… What a pity for the man ! ».
Then, when the yaks resumed their slow movements without those who are called men have to prick them with the whip, they remembered that one said in the valley that there was a curious young woman, who smiled and laughed.
It was really curious in this valley because nobody had the time and the force to smile. All the muscles of the face were to say at the time that the time is hard and without love for the man.
Also, when they heard that the young woman healed with her voice and that her sounds made the soul happy, they knew that this was false because that could not exist here.
And when they heard that this young woman healed with her hands, they laughed and asked the girl at the inn for more hot alcohol. They did not understand how men conscious and responsible of the ordinary life could tell such stories just good for the children before sending them to bed.
These were the thoughts that circulated for hours in their stiffened mind, while the beasts went up the path in a tranquility of step that they did not know and that left them their time, for them, to follow the movements of their mind.
The heat was with Heidi. The Light of her Angel enveloped her.
- It is a bit difficult with the men, she says.
- Yes… It’s part of the life in Bam with them, he says… Do not go against that… or else you will be destroyed because they are the strongest… They have the force of number.
- So I suffer in silence, don’t I ?
- Not only in silence, he says in the softness of the words… Whit a smile… Because you cannot avoid suffering… since you are in their space…
- So I receive their vibration, don't I ?
- Yes, that’s it… You receive the shock of their vibration… Because your state of being is hit by theirs… You cannot do otherwise.
- Yes… I know that… You have said it to me so often !
- But you need to say it to me, don’t you ?
- Yes… It is like attracting you to me, she smiles.
- There are other means to be with me than throwing recriminations about the man and his space, pronounces Ange in his soft voice without body.
- Yes, I know… But without you in the everyday space, it is difficult not to let the mind get on its habits.
- Yes, that’s it… But you lose a lot of time and power following that.
- I know… I feel alive when I sing and I put my hands on a body… or give my force through the eyes.
- Why do you want to give your Force ?
The young woman continued her walk in the silence of the wind. She knew crucial the question of her Angel.
He helped her:
- If you like the death, you are not running behind the life.
- Yes, I know… What sadness in me when I gave the new life to « The one who never dies ».
- Yes, you do not know if you did her a favor, do you ?
- Yes… What happiness while my hands were in her… on her… What sadness afterwards !
The wind followed the road and helped them to move forwards.
- Don’t worry about that.
- Why ?
- It only happens what is right for you… and for what is in front of you.
- You can tell me more ?
- « The one who never dies » was not ready to die… Then, it is nice that you gave her life again.
- I understand… So I continue ?
- You continue.
The wind did not have of cold for the young woman. The warmth of her heart radiated the whole body.
It is with happiness that she heard her Angel pronounce these words :
« I need you ».
She waited in the silence of the air which seemed fixed.
He explained to her what was being prepared with « The one who was Him, before ».
She laughs.
- I love this Ange Bret ! … He stirs up the wind… I heard the voice of the Roshi who speaks the words in the Universe of the Man.
The wind lost its ice for them.
- What do you expect from me ?
- It is very simple, he says with soft words.
- What thus ? She says curious.
- That you are perfect !
- It is easy, she throws in the wind.
- No, it is very difficult, he says.
- Why ?
-You must never cease knowing that you are in enemy territory.
The wind turned around them.
- I understand, she says.
- It is not sufficient, he says.
- What is to say ?
- You must « be »… The understandings are nothing compared to action.
- I grasp with my body, she says gently.
He let the time go and added :
- If I take support on you, I take a great risk.
- Which one ?
- If you are not perfect, it will enter an energy of Bam in the movement that we are planning.
- You mean that I can be a dangerous virus for you ?
- Yes, that’s it… And we won’t know it until it’s to late.
- That is to say ?
- There will have destruction of the movement that will slide in Bam… And maybe it won’t be possible to repair.
- Why ?
- Because it is a voyage in the Death… Not a « round trip » in Bam-Yam.
- You mean that the action is perfect… or lost ?
- Yes… that’s it.
Heidi let the wind take the heat from her body. She needed to feel the death to take the importance of these words.
- Then, why do you ask for my help… if I can be a danger ?
- Participating in a real action is the only way to go from Bam to Yam.
- So it is also « for me » that you take the risk.
- Yes, it is « also » for you, says the soft voice without a body.
- Why are you doing it ?
- You have this possibility… You have this Force.
- But that I can cancel immediately if I cease being a Queen ?
- Yes, if you become a little girl again just concerned about your sensations and impulses…
- You can tell me more ?
- If you direct the time according to your own movement.
- More ?
- If you do not grasp that in every moment it is the space that directs everything.
- More ?
- If you are not « master » of the space and time.
- More ?
- If you do not throw yourself into each movement as if you were master of nothing.
- It is that « to be master of the space and time » ?
- Yes, it is that.
The Voyage in the Death.
Continuation
The Padma laughs, the scorning pout. He looks, disdainful, at the one who has just entered the Temple and who is putting her bag flexibly beside the door.
The monks also follow this curious figure which one is not used to here. The Puja is finished and it is the time for them to go to their room, or to go for walk in the city.
The Great Angel is warming my body beside me.
He has come to tell us that our considerations between the two of us are those of the Yam preoccupied with himself and that it is appropriate to go one floor above.
He is kind with his soft words without body. He says nothing in the turmoil of the ordinary life.
He says.
It is the truth.
It is enough for itself.
He also looks at the woman that everyone is observing. He smiles.
She has no useless gesture. Her bag settles down against the wall. It does not bother anyone.
She looks around the room.
She observes the monks, then the statues, then what is around, all the tankas.
She uses the time as a Queen, straight and smiling.
Her body is motionless, outlined against the clearness that still exists outside with its lights, and her figure lengthens endlessly in the Temple.
She finally has the eyes on the three of us, sitting in the angle of the end… At least on « me » since I am the only visible one to ordinary eyes.
But it was us « three » that she saw and she bowed the head to greet us.
The Padma starts to wonder and makes a funny face.
Then, she came towards us, undulating like the one who walks on the water… She is there, quiet and sure of herself. She has the Earth as friend and the Heaven as companion…
She is called « The beloved »… She is tall… She is a liana… She is ebony black.
In the sounds of Africa, she bears the name of « Ewandé ».
Her eyes are lakes. There is no bottom. They are not there to seduce.
Her hemmed mouth gives no promise. It is not there to lie.
Her white teeth discovered by the lips, shine with the rising sun. They are not there to devour.
The long neck lets the air pass between the top and the bottom. It is not there to play the kiss.
The flat belly pushes the force in front of it. It is not there to go in front of the hand of the man.
The nervous buttocks give the long and regular step of the desert walkers. They are not there to convince to the love.
The long thin, interminable thighs, undulate the liana. They do not discover themselves for the admiring looks.
She did not say anything, except her name.
She sat down next to me. Her thigh is warm.
I have placed a cup of burning tea in front of her.
Her eyes take mine. Our melted eyes recognize our origins.
She only says, with deep sounds that come beyond the throat, the lips barely half-opened :
"You’re not telling the whole truth about you."
Padma recovers quickly; he wants to look good; she is there for him and he wishes to mark the preference right from the start.
- I’ve always said it !… He is always hiding something from us, with his smile of the one who is ready to hear the bullshit of the century… Sorry !… of the millennium.
She does not move the head to look at him. It is her eyes that turn.
The silence of the great deserts is in those eyes; eyes that stare and do not move. Eyes that are motionless, like the lion of the sands that feels the wind bring the smell to it.
"You are a little man who ironizes about a Great One."
The sounds arrived without the lips and the movement of the throat.
Padma takes his ancestral wrinkles, his way of making the interesting on his platform, of the guy super concerned by the future of the World.
Habits are not easy to lose.
Also he does not want to bend in front of those milky white eyes with just one golden point in the center, and all the intense black around.
So he throws again the words that have meaning only for those who play in the meanders of the sensations.
- He always hides us « a little something » that one ! … And we spend an interminable time looking for « what ? »… He could be more frank !… At least, me, I find… he says with guttural and clear words that resound in the Temple of which he is the principal Presence.
The silence gives its answer to his words.
Then the mouth of « the Beloved » opens… the lips widen towards the ears… it is an abyss that presents its gap…
And a bright laughter propels itself in the air and invades everything. Everything vibrates… every object quivers… our skins shiver… our hearts pound wildly.
Ewandé’s ribs rise up like a wave that gives its power and her firm breasts push the light wool of the sweater.
The laughter has no end… like the flexible and slow movements of her ribs… like her tips of the breasts that would seek to free themselves from the constraint of the fabrics that veil them.
Then again it is the sounds carried by the desert wind and that nobody knows from where they were born :
"Little Man !… You have thus not understood that he hides « Everything » from you !".
The Padma feels a bit narrow with his « small something »… He does not know anymore if he should remain in front of his future chick or go back on his perch. I would retain the perch because he feels safer on it. More than a thousand years of habit !… The security is also in the time that flows.
He begins to produce vibrations of fear that ooze from his pores. He is thinking that he is likely to be swamped by events with his future companion. He had envisaged that he was going to be the Boss, and she, the servant, as it is in his customs for more than a thousand years.
He is not prepared to be put in a child’s bed with the little soft music pushing him to sleep double-quick and count the stars.
If he continues to sweat like this he will smell bad again. I’ll have two words with the Rimpo’s daughter. However, with the essential teachings I have given her, she is likely to answer me that she is not the maid of all work, which I would understand very well.
But the more hit by the words of the Young Black, it is « Me of after ». The Great Angel is wondering whether he did not miss a train in his voyage of before.
From « Yam » he found himself propelled into « Nothing »… And it is a source of pride that he did not let himself completely immobilized by « Bam »… just a residue of « last chance » that made him return as a destructor of the last manipulator link between the Bam and the Yam.
He is wondering whether he did not have the possibility to go even further in the voyage of the Death.
He has maybe let the rocket pass, without seeing it… all preoccupied to observe the omnibus to choose the one that seemed to best suit for his state of lucidity of the moment.
There is another one who scratches his skull in all directions, to the point that he forgets the goatee which is rolled up between his testicles, just to keep them warm with this icy wind which penetrates everywhere.
The old wrinkled not beautiful man, who is reading « for the UNIVERSE » - proud of this mission that he gave himself, like a Cosmic requirement, whereas it is his personal way of making himself getting a kick out of it longer, while giving himself a role that would make cry the girls in search of noble feelings… to the point that he repeats at the beginning of each dance step… how his parchment-like hands !… his eagle eyes!… and so on… He is wondering whether he has not recorded only bullshits for years and if he has well known how to follow my trace that he had the claim to never lose !
Is it possible that perhaps he has not just told Heidi nonsense by playing the guy who « knows »… so sententious… and even offloading his emotional as a bonus !
And also to « me of before » ! …
But « Me » I am always with the drinker, I am always with the smoker… I always participate with what I have on the hand as « material »…
I play the game of each one… what he is able to feel, understand, support…
I penetrate him as he is able to accept to be penetrated.
I change him as he is able to bear his change.
« Me »… I am always « Me of now »…
The « before » and the « after »… it is the game of the writings of the brain that likes to laugh on itself and to masturbate.
I am always Me « in relative ».
But them, they are in « absolute ».
So they understand according to their absolute which is a pure relative and make theories and explanations of it to no end.
With of course a certainty of having understood everything and of being in the truth of the truth, the heart of the heart.
And then there is this little Great Black, who barely makes her twenty-five springs, to destabilize them !
Just this little kid who looks at the essential, beyond all the appearances… who whispers to them these words from the tip of the lips :
"He hides « Everything » from you !"
… after having opened the space with a thundering laughter that lifts the mountains and drives away the clouds that encumber the Lucidity… so that they wonder if the small format guy that I am, could perhaps, be thicker and older than he presents himself on the table of the games of the Man.
In short!
I don’t know if she is going to mess everything up in my relative games, this kid… or if I will take a rest and hand over to her !
Ewandé enjoys her hot tea.
Her eyes skim the edge of the cup; they reach the orbits of me; they penetrate into their depth, making their passage through my bushy eyebrows never comb…
She sips the hot tea that does good to the belly, without leaving my eyes. At the bottom of hers is inscribed the message :
« Rests on me… Now… My intense friend. »
Suddenly, I feel my fatigue to be for so long among the Men.
I want to sleep.
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