Wednesday, September 12, 2012

Chogyam's Voice

I woke up this morning in the middle of a conversation with my old friend Chogyam. We were in the mountains. It was a blue sky day with white clouds like sails, billowing through.

We were dressed in white and there was something striped or maybe beads up by his neck. We were sitting on the green grass and he was telling me that some thing special was going to happen. Then he smiled and hesitated and said, maybe I should not tell you yet. Maybe I should wait until the day is closer. And I said well, maybe you could tell me hypothetically what is going to happen and I won't worry about the day. And that broad smile grew across his sweet face and his eyes were sparkling, like they always did when he was getting a kick out of some thing and then I woke up.

I was so happy just to hear his voice again. It has been so long. Today, he has been with me all day. At the park walking Coco. At home washing the floor and when I fixed some mushrooms and onions to go with my baked yam. And now. Even now.

It's funny how some one I have loved and who loved me back could make such a strong impression that even so many years after his passing, I can still see him and hear his voice. I'm so glad to have had a friend, a true sweet friend like him in my lifetime. So incredibly grateful.

Hey, I see yoouuuuuuu!

A little bit ago I wrote this.  And it got me to thinking....
I wonder why I had that dream?  I had been in pain for a couple of nights in a row and maybe when I dropped off to sleep I thought about dyin'.  That's what I'm guessing.  I don't remember ever sitting on the grass together or wearing white either.  I do remember we went somewhere once where there was a large expanse of green grass and white tents with tops on them.  And I'm pretty sure there were other people there.  But that's all I got that resembles the dream.

And I heard the sound of his voice echo from the past
and that was precious.  Just like standing nearby and talking.
Maybe I was subconsciously processing dying and then
this beautiful image came from my memory only it was a little different. 
The way we talked to each other,
that was so real.  Exactly how we talked with each other. 
And that smile. That I'd seen that before. 

Maybe the memories were like
water lilies finding their way to the surface
reeds moving in the water
bubbles floating up through some eternal

I've never believed in ghosts or anything. 
But we do carry the vibe on. 
It's like musicians playing a guitar and a banjo jamming. 
Put in a slide and a steel and you've got lots of sounds
swirling around and through everything. 
Lots of vibrations happen when musicians play together. 
Times when we reach a common chord with people or with nature
like blood running through and
beneath the skin
a footprint
left within

that's it....

We leave traces of who we are wherever we go.  And other people and places leave traces with us too.

I mean, we are all connected and moving and changing and consistent
and wacky
and some times we go with the flow
and other times the storms come
and nearly blow us away

I mean, we're here until we're gone
and then it don't matter

I mean, I don't think we ever go anywhere
carriers change, yes
what was solid becomes
a gas
or a fleck of dust
or living breathing
blades of grass growing
roots spreading out
and water falling and
disappearing and filling the air and
giving us all life

We can identify some things
some probabilities
but knowledge
if you know anything at all
is never a certainty
it is ironically never
an absolute

we've got atoms
electron cloud shit
and we are always
dig this
and becoming
all of the time
in fact
there is no time either
we just like keeping
track of things that don't exist
that's an interesting thing about being human
I mean,
we keep track of all kinds of shit
we gather information
collect knowledge and store it and distort it

when we don't need a damn thing
more than the stillness of a moment
for it to flow right through us
whatever it is
and inspire us to take the next step
in our endeavors

I miss you
and even though I know you are a part
of this energy dealeo that's goin' on
it would be such fun to have a warm sake
and look at dancing elephants
in the clouds again

Maybe that's where dreams come from
a collection of memories that mingle with
whatever is on our mind before we drift off to sleep
stirred up like dust
by our collection of experiences
like travellers passing through
making their own connections
and nothing more than that
I don't much care
I don't have to know why they happen
I'm just happy
I heard your voice again

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