As I perched myself up with a variety of cushions, pillows and other props to clear a modicum of drowsiness from my countenance, I be-spied that my visitor was a ghoulish shade of decay, antiquity, and desolation: that to which my merciful consciousness previously strove earnestly to conceal. God knows that in my horror I saw in its eaten-away and bone-revealing outlines an abhorrent travesty that bore a clear resemblance to places and times I had thought were long behind my current state of relative peace and prosperity.
My eyes, bewitched by the glassy orbs which stared loathsomely into them, refused to close; though they were blurred the darkness. I could neither focus on the shape, nor avoid it, caught in a limbo in the nether-worlds betwixt slumber and wakefulness.
But my lack of visual recognition was of no consequence. A burst of black memory surfaced in a chaos of echoing images. Long in dreams had I fled from these accursed recollections, the young man in his prime frustrating his youth and potential in the fables of solitary alienation which bespoke of disappointments and the pathological drive to connect frustrated by an inordinate amount of awkwardness.
My nemesis was hungry, devouring, and insatiable. The undulation that revolted me almost as poignantly as to its cause, the vividness of the inconceivable betrayal I had dealt to the most innocent of intimates which had turned into an unmentionable monstrosity which in an instant meta-morphed to a herd of delirious fugitives. The silent swarm rotated in a kaleidoscopic intensity of the sameness of my dubious paternal bequeath who, haunted by his own demons, had retreated into a cold introspective intensity.
Further sleep was out of the question, so I ignited my intelligent hand hold electronic device to determine if any wards might be of use in discharging the demon, knowing that I did at that time that to focus on the unmentionable provided it strength and sustenance. The more you try not to recognize it, the bigger the blank space in your life becomes. The black space will remind you of its presence. As such, my emerging plan was to expand my focus of perception so that in juxtaposition to the whole reality, this particular manifestation would only been seen as a small portion to the overall immensity of presence.
With this practice, I soon devolved once again into a peaceful slumber, encumbered by dreams of a more agreeable nature.
In the clear caffeinated morning there brought a new realization sparked by the words of Keizan-zenji in The Record of Transmitting the Light:
A splendid branch issues from the old plum tree
For more information on hungry ghosts, click HERE
But my lack of visual recognition was of no consequence. A burst of black memory surfaced in a chaos of echoing images. Long in dreams had I fled from these accursed recollections, the young man in his prime frustrating his youth and potential in the fables of solitary alienation which bespoke of disappointments and the pathological drive to connect frustrated by an inordinate amount of awkwardness.
My nemesis was hungry, devouring, and insatiable. The undulation that revolted me almost as poignantly as to its cause, the vividness of the inconceivable betrayal I had dealt to the most innocent of intimates which had turned into an unmentionable monstrosity which in an instant meta-morphed to a herd of delirious fugitives. The silent swarm rotated in a kaleidoscopic intensity of the sameness of my dubious paternal bequeath who, haunted by his own demons, had retreated into a cold introspective intensity.
Further sleep was out of the question, so I ignited my intelligent hand hold electronic device to determine if any wards might be of use in discharging the demon, knowing that I did at that time that to focus on the unmentionable provided it strength and sustenance. The more you try not to recognize it, the bigger the blank space in your life becomes. The black space will remind you of its presence. As such, my emerging plan was to expand my focus of perception so that in juxtaposition to the whole reality, this particular manifestation would only been seen as a small portion to the overall immensity of presence.
With this practice, I soon devolved once again into a peaceful slumber, encumbered by dreams of a more agreeable nature.
In the clear caffeinated morning there brought a new realization sparked by the words of Keizan-zenji in The Record of Transmitting the Light:
A splendid branch issues from the old plum tree
In time, obstructing thorns flourish everywhere
With the rose comes the thorns. The thorns are the hungry ghosts of our life. There is no life without them. Best to make space for them. Mind the brambles!
With the rose comes the thorns. The thorns are the hungry ghosts of our life. There is no life without them. Best to make space for them. Mind the brambles!
For more information on hungry ghosts, click HERE
No comments:
Post a Comment