The Mighty B
Climb Up and "Notice How the Green Lily Has Several Tongues, But Still Keeps Her Secret."*
The music is by La Femme, a French band known for its eclectic style, blending influences from genres like new wave, surf rock, synth-pop, and more.
Today’s story continues from
It seems that along the entire stretch of the diesel-clogged duct, the contenders in the Javanese Slalom Grand Prix Race—“Rizky Trans,” “Source of Prosperity,” “Long Street of Memory,” “New Super Trans,” “Most Wanted,” and countless other two-, four-, and many-wheeled vehicles—were all irresistibly drawn yesterday by the mighty magnetic pull of Borobudur, the world’s largest Buddhist temple.
Borobudur, (Candi Borobudur) is a 9th-century Mahayana Buddhist temple in Magelang Regency, not far from the town of Muntilan, in Central Java, Indonesia. It is the world's largest Buddhist temple. It consists of nine stacked platforms, six square and three circular, topped by a central dome. It is decorated with 2,672 relief panels and 504 Buddha statues. […] When viewed from above, it takes the form of a giant tantric Buddhist mandala, simultaneously representing the Buddhist cosmology and the nature of mind. […] The monument's three divisions symbolise the three ’realms’ of Buddhist cosmology, namely Kamadhatu (the world of desires), Rupadhatu (the world of forms), and finally Arupadhatu (the formless world). Ordinary sentient beings live out their lives on the lowest level, the realm of desire. Those who have burnt out all desire for continued existence leave the world of desire and live in the world on the level of form alone: they see forms but are not drawn to them. Finally, full Buddhas go beyond even form and experience reality at its purest, most fundamental level, the formless ocean of nirvana (Wikipedia).
It’s 5:25 a.m., and here we are, perched atop the Holy Grail—the highest level of Arupadhatu, the realm of formless nirvana. As we ascended the steep central staircase, we knew we hadn’t survived yesterday’s combustion-fueled chaos aboard Rizky Trans just to linger on the lower realms of Kamadhatu and Rupadhatu. We bypassed them instinctively, climbing straight up toward the sky
I can’t shake the feeling that the only meaningful way to pass the time before sunrise would be to merge with the formless essence of this highest terrace. The view stretches out to the volcanic peaks of Berbabu and Merapi, with muezzins’ calls echoing from the valley below. All around us, tourists seem less interested in connecting with the spirit of this sacred Buddhist shrine than in fidgeting with their cameras. Some impatiently adjust settings for the faint glow gathering in the east, others restlessly pace the terrace, snapping selfies with the statues.
Feeling as though I’ve stumbled into a magical cinema, I find myself utterly captivated by the sweeping panorama, the ominous cacophony down in the valley, and the solid stone structure beneath me. I just can’t bring myself to rise and follow the usual tourist routine. “After all, we don’t go to cinemas just to watch cinemas, do we?” I murmur to myself. “Just like we don’t visit stadiums merely to marvel at the stands. It’s not about the stone and mortar, dear tourists. Don’t you understand that
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The temple of love is not love itself?
True love is the treasure,
Not the walls about it.
Do not admire the decoration,
But involve yourself in the essence…**”
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The commercials will soon fade, and the film will commence. I’ve come here to uncover the story that has remained concealed for centuries, right at the heart of this stone mandala.
Whatever’s just unfolded behind my closed eyelids atop of the temple is too shy to find its way into my notebook. But let me just write that the cacophony from the minarets, the Dutch gurgling to my left, the Spaniards rustling on my right, and the French engaging in their sing-song chatter at the back—they were all muffled by the presence of the Mighty B, as if veiled behind a thick layer of cling film.
What’s up!? Has the Mighty B just demonstrated that, after twelve centuries of its proud existence on the island of Java—through cycles of fame and infamy—it still wields the power to pull back the curtain? My dear gurgling friends from the Netherlands, you rustling souls from Spain, and you sing-song chatterers from France, please allow yourselves a moment to
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Notice how the Green Lily has several tongues
But still keeps her secret.*
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I can’t help but wonder that understanding the curtain is essential for the Mighty B to unveil it from deep within one’s soul. “Is this some kind of cinema where you have to know how and where to look to actually see the screen?” I mumble, glancing around in a blend of awe and disbelief. “Could it be that Mr. Distractor, who resides in our minds, has little interest in our quest to uncover the curtain or locate the screen? Perhaps his agenda is to sabotage our search at every turn—whispering that these formless hallucinations belong in a psychiatric ward, or insisting that the perfect camera settings are far more critical.” I suspect the MasterMind is exceptionally cunning, turning our blind man’s bluff with the unspeakable world into a maddening challenge.
Yet, remember the wise words of the Sphere to the Square,
“Distress not yourself if you cannot at first understand the deeper mysteries of Spaceland. By degrees, they will dawn upon you.”***
Give yourself the chance—it very well may be your time already.
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Don't wait till you die to see this.
Recognise that your imagination
and your thinking
and your sense perception are reed canes
that children cut and pretend are horses****
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* ”So Recklessly Exposed” cf. Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi, HarperOne, 2004.
** ”Put This Design in Your Carpet” cf. Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi, HarperOne, 2004.
*** In “Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions,” by Edwin A. Abbott, this line is spoken by the Sphere. The Sphere, a three-dimensional being, says this to the Square (the protagonist), who initially struggles to comprehend the concept of a third dimension beyond his two-dimensional existence.
**** ”Children’s Games” cf. Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi, HarperOne, 2004.
Sunrise from behind Mount Merapi:
A single do and many don’ts of Candi Borobudur:
There will be “My Fear Monster: A Report from Two Chambers of Cultural Disassociation” next week. And remember my dear subscriber that whatever’s been published before, can be found in the archives. Also, if you can’t find my post on Monday next week, well… it will mean that I have gone to do the next thing that is making me tick at that moment I time….