Diary of a Mystic: Buddha Lands

mandala

After reading a book on Tara’s Enlightened Qualities, I was inspired to refine my practice, making three prostrations, taking refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha, speeding up my recitation of the mantra to be as fast as possible, whilst invoking many Dakinis – speeding up the mantra definitely speeds up the results, though, I definitely feel like the presence of the full-moon helped to intensify the proceedings.

Catapulted into many amazing Buddha Lands. I see countless Taras, Dakinis, Buddhas, Dharmapalas, and numerous other sprites and spirits I would have no idea how to define or categorize – certainly a far share of demons, mystics, goblins, and sorcerers. Samantabhadra – Universal Sage Buddha – is a delivering a sermon to countless multitudes, in extremely beautiful lands.

A Dakini/Tara appears before me holding an old vellum scroll – it is a terma?  She tears it in two. Many Dragons, heavenly beings, Hell beings and others engaged in bizarre pass-times, feasting on entrails. I can hear foreign voices speaking words into both of my ears in stereo. I cannot recognize the language – perhaps Indian or Nepalese? There is a flash of light in the chambers of my skull, and several loud noises in the attic above my had which completely coincide with it – indication of an actual presence in the room. Groups of Buddhas levitating happily over mountains. It is all ineffable and multi-dimensional, like being inside a quantum mandala – or a Tibetan version of one of Pablo Amaringo’s Ayahuasca paintings.

Yamantaka reappears quite a few times, consumed by a corona of blazing fire, belching fire, and making wrathful sounds. I see him so often that I find it hard not to occasionally switch to his mantra! Bald, Nosferatu-like figures.

“JUST LISTEN!” Tara exclaims to me at one point. I behold her more vividly and immensely than I’ve ever seen her before. Energy flows forth to cleanse my heart chakra – the familiar feeling of a spiritual hand reaching through my sternum to clutch at my hurting heart.

Astral Travel Part 2: UFOs, Dragons, and Tongues

celestial_palace

At one point in my travels, I decided to turn myself into a spaceship. This made me think about the UFO phenomenon. UFOs, whilst having many shapes and types, are usually described as being silent; capable of aerodynamically impossible manoeuvres; moving at incredible speeds; and have the ability to pass between dimensions.

The reason UFOs are able to thwart aerodynamic laws is because they do not operate on aerodynamic principles, but instead, on quantum-holographic principles. UFOs are created by the minds of their inhabitants, and driven by the minds of their inhabitants. The majority of extra-terrestrials are very psychically and spiritually accomplished beings – to think of them only on a physical, earthly level is very ignorant indeed.

I also changed my form into that of a dragon. I could feel myself shifting through the dark avenues of existence, thunder and lightning booming and exploding in time with the contortions of my body.

Towards the end of the meditation, I began to chant spontaneously for about half an hour. The chants sounded as though they were shifting between Chinese, Tibetan, Native American, and a mixture of other languages I wouldn’t be able to place. They kept shifting and changing before settling into a mantra that went:

HEY DA HEY HOOOOOOOO – BUMDELUMDEDADUMDA!

As I chanted this mantra, I felt merged with the deep serenity of the void. The way the mantra kept shifting taught me something about the nature of sound geometry. The language was completely unimportant – rather, it was the way in which I shaped the sound that was most important, vigorously latching it onto the patterns of reality.

Poem: Squeezing the Thighs of Summer

summer

Summer straddles the Earth again

And rubs her heavenly crotch against us

Vault forth into The Jade Palace

And conquer The Pearly Knight

Dragons fight in the mid-day sky

And knock eachother’s teeth out

Twig-men made out of branches

Form networks of organic tapestry

Between interstices and micro-environments

Worlds are made from vapour trails

A whole universe comes into being

From one sole god’s thoughtful fart

A miasma of floral scents

Becomes an ethereal infusion

A metaphysical teapot

Brewing the world into being

I take a journey down an anthill

And turn myself into a caterpillar

So that the whole wretched colony

Can be nourished on my body fat

Squeeze the thighs of summer

And revel in her invisible skin

A sun under every armpit

Rainbows dripping from her nipples

I love my lady Summer

I disappear inside her every pore

Her breasts will be the mountains I climb

To get to Heaven’s door