Silvery Shineth Full Forth Slippery Fish Crystaline

As you slip and slide into slumber n ride the liminal line down to drowsy trance and the flow of rich imagery runs then you will know the realms and blissful tracks that the Caterpillar tacks and the meanings of hence where and whence he-s coming from and whitherfore whence he goeth forth hence – thoroughly spending spilled shillings and pence – thoughtfully though full-throated rough roared the guttural guitar throat of the hummingbird-shaggy-yak-thing as it spoke –

Trying to get to the other side of the city – crossing towns familiar imagined and spectral aglow – busing around the city and following symbolic streets through half-familiar thoroughfares and cobbled back-alleys muses and the tinkling guitars of the gypsies again -  Also a chalk hill – also a falling leaf – also a leaping trout – also the falling rain – also the rustling wind – also the trundling of wheels – also the clacking of heels – also the fringes of feels – also the movements of eels – also the running of feet – city streets a-throng and the river of time never pauses –

Singing the song of the irrational flow of unconscious gossamer The Invertebrate Press has also published the unique novel “The Kramvil” which is to be found in “The Horned Whale” by Jeremy Schanche -  ISBN:  978-0-9934909-1-0    -  The book contains two other stories plus some poetry and glossaries -    The Invertebrate Press also publishes The Limpet – a monthly journal of world-events -  You can find The Caged Crusader website here -

Tasting the moment – living in visionary bliss -    dragons draw the cloud-curtain back on jade-mountain -  Breathing in and out the hermit is fulfilled -  From the heart of the yogi flows the grace-wave -  Blessing and blessing innumerable beings -  Cultivating the mind of nothing -   Walking in silence through misty bamboo-groves at dawn -  Filling the water-jar -  Pouring the silvery tea -  Painting the rain over the mountain and forest-trees swaying in the wind-s blasting and rain like rice falling -  Keeping the mind of kindness -  Friendly to all – the hermit has a quiet heart -  The heart firm in love has no room for enmity – bliss only and the light of knowing -  The mind is not made of bricks and straw nor wood and sand – this sparkling mind you cannot hold in your hand -  It-s shape and colour defy the most thorough search or analysis – In short it is a butterfly which temporary meat-hands grasp not through rough grabbings-at but only through sagacious contemplations and thus sat the sage and knew not no rage for his heart he had cleansed and the rain washed his thoughts true and few -  Oh whistling wind aloft in the sky so close carry the great grace-wave of the quiet-hearted yogis afar scattered in realms of deep tranquillity quilted in natures originality and glimpsed in sparkling contemplativeness on loving-kindliness and empty-handedness – as in space and the blue wave of time that runs and ripples through it like the spark of feeling that lights the living flesh and life-s flickering fiery candle that burneth up bright – alive – alive – alive – and quiet sat the yogi –

Or even better:

ΣΑΝ ΕΓΥΡΙΖ' ΑΠ' ΤΗΝ ΠΥΛΟ  

ΣΤΡΑΤΟΣ ΠΑΓΙΟΥΜΤΖΗΣ - 1935

Crystaline Fish Slippeth Forth Full Shine Silvery

The Caterpillar is beamed to you from beyond the carapace of eternity in the shell of the infinite sky and the everlasting moment of golden sunlight and silvery moon–merriel on the face of the ocean at night -  

No wind-s whistling wild nor string-quartet-s smile can ripple the Caterpillar-s carapace nor alter his lepidopteral pace one inch nay give him grace for he is not of this world and cometh forth from deep realms of sleep his secrets not to keep but to spill forth sharingly unto ye frothy worlde of day upon which ye sunlight doth sometimes playe – oh yea – oh yea – lack a day ye lackadaisical daisy picker and sleek city-slicker – lack ye never a day I say!  For amongst ye The Caterpillar has come to play – 





Beyond the carapace - - -

Into The Thunderbolt Land (Part 2)

"Whatever arises - know and recognize it to be the wisdom-play of your primordial mind -  Do not become involved in it - do not struggle against it -  simply let it play out and a clearer light still shall shine through -
Rest in this light of non-conceptual original awareness -  Whatever then happens - let it wash over or through you - it doesn-t matter - simply rest within the purity of the light -
Whatever manifestations might occur - they are simply illusions woven of light - woven of the same clear light that radiates knowing consciousness - begins nowhere -  has no end - no middle - no physical existence whatsoever and is as insubstantial as a puff of yak-s breath -
This radiant - non-physical - luminous - timeless entity of knowingness is fundamentally good through and through -  it shines powerful rays of loving-kindness into the ten directions and three times and has actually always been thus - pure - good and radiant - since any beginning you care to posit -  This formless -  glowing - knowing - loving entity has a continuity that runs through and beyond conceptual time and measurable space - since ultimately it occupies neither - being not made of physical substance nor compounded of parts or elements it is immune to the power of the world and resides in a primordial "space" of pure luminosity and knowing -  the original stronghold of the Tathaghatagharba - "

When the Red Guards first started showing up in the rural districts and terrorising and interrogating the locals Lobsang was extremely worried lest anyone found out that he had been in possession of "counter-revolutionary propaganda" as religious materials and almost all foreign forms of journalism and literature were strictly banned by the Party and people who were found in possession of such things were reputedly meeting very grisly fates at the hands of these blood-crazed and insanely zealous youths whose average age was 15 -
These young people had been trained to be utterly ruthless - indoctrinated into a cult of violence and let loose -  to torment and distress the simple peasant population who had virtually no grasp of Marxist-Leninist Social Theory and were much more interested in tending their flocks as they had always done -

"5th September 1904 - Tong Pa Nyi Gompa - North Central Tibet -  During our crossing of the Tsangpo River one of the yak-hide coracles carrying the gear started taking in water and unfortunately one of my note-books was ruined -  Particularly frustrating as it contained the notes I-d taken at Tashi Gompa where I-d studied with the local Lama for several weeks -  He covered a great variety of topics and seemed eager to educate a foreigner like me -  That region of the country is more lush than most of Tibet - with rich forests and canyons in the foothills -  I took many atmospheric walks among the rhododendrons that climbed up into the mist-dripping heights where silver apes could sometimes be glimpsed playing among the trees -
As I recall - Lama Dorje started by stressing the famous Buddhist principle of Impermanence -  the dissolution of all compounded things - objects - personalities - even worlds -
He had a very numerical style of teaching and it is largely down to this that I can recall as much as I can - The Two Truths - (Relative and Absolute)  -  The Three Kayas (Nirmanakaya - Sambhogakaya and Dharmakaya) and the Triple Refuge (Buddha - Dharma and Sangha) -  The Four Noble Truths -  The Five Skhandhas or Aggregates - The Six Realms of Conditioned Existence or Lokas - (Devas - Asuras - Humans - Animals - Pretas - Hell-beings)  -  The Seven Line Prayer (A Tantric Hymn) -  The Ten Bhummis of the Boddhisatva Path -  The Twelve Links of the Causal Chain -
On each of these topics the Lama would give most erudite talks - using the theme as a starting-point from which to dive into an ocean of profound learning - skillfully weaving the various points together so that - even to a foreigner and a beginner like me - the whole elaborate synthesis started to gradually become clear in my mind -  I have to stress how it was not a mere intellectual or academic lecture but rather his whole being was lit with enthusiasm and wisdom as he talked and he seemed to convey meaning beyond mere words -  In fact - as he pointed out to me - in their tradition - they believe it is possible to transmit wisdom from an accomplished yogi to a suitably prepared student rather in the manner of a telegraph transmission (but without the wires!)
The Tibetans are great believers in the psychic life and take it as a given that thoughts can be passed from person to person without the encumbrance of words being necessary -
If I remember rightly he used the analogy of a light that will shine wherever it is unimpeded - Therefore when the monk or practicing yogi has removed enough "clouds of obscuring ideas" from their mind and achieved a tranquil stability through long meditation - the light of wisdom will naturally be seen as there is nothing left to obscure it -
He spoke often of compassion and how that was our inherent nature"

“Dukha is a Pali word meaning suffering – as Lama Dorje informed me – not merely the ordinary suffering of everyday life but also the much deeper suffering that comes from being lost in the Samsaric state of unknowing and ignorance that is conditioned-existence -  Because beings fail to recognize their true nature – their original nature – they constantly blunder around piling up more and more wrongful actions which further obscure their minds to the continuous splendour of their own inherent Buddha-nature –

Of all the sufferings within the six realms of unenlightened existence there is no worse form of suffering than being separated from residing in your true nature – the original nature of mind -  

Since the possibility for confusion is almost infinite in scope – when one meets the Buddha-Dharma in this life it is incredibly fortunate and one should not waste such a rare opportunity to progress along the path of liberation as it may not come again for kotis of kalpas or myriad millennia –

For those of us who through great good fortune have entered the path – the constant sight of the teeming multitudes who wander adrift in the fog of confusion becomes a spontaneous and natural starting-point for the generation of universal-compassion –

Without such compassion for all other beings we could not progress a single inch along the path"

After some hesitation Lobsang Tawa herded up his scattered ideas and realized that if he was going to replace the papers he had found some years ago he had better hurry as the Red Guards could appear at any moment -  This meant interrupting some important tasks on his little farm but he knew it must be done -  Packing a bag of tsampa (parched barley flour) - some yak-cheese and a leather drinking gourd of chang - a weak beer made from fermented barley - he awoke before dawn and headed for the mountain region where he anticipated his rendezvous with a deep-frozen Englishman - "such is life" he mused as his feet crunched the snow under the star-scattered ice-mountains -
To be walking in the Tibetan highlands with a full-moon illuminating the snow-world just before the sun rises is an experience of vast pure and primal space -  a natural capsule to nourish an understanding of the Buddha-Dharma - a place where the raw power of nature dwarfs the human sense of concepts and ideas - where pure nature rules supreme -
Glorious purple cloaks and rags of cloud dappled the immense sky as the earth rolled round to meet the sun again - His family had been in these mountains for millennia and the pastoralist felt an awakening sense of familiarity rising in his breast as he slowly ascended into the moon-like terrain of the plateau -
After a couple of hours he passed a small and ancient-looking gompa or monastery on a ridge and heard the distant chant of sacred mantras and tantric hymns - punctuated with the pounding of drums and bells - and the bizarre and darkly powerful roar and wail of the shawms large and small - sending out their message of transcendental wisdom to the pure skies and snowy peaks that loomed all around 

The seemingly cacophonous shawm and drum music of the Tibetan monasteries is said to be an attempt to imitate the sounds of the nadis during the death-process -  This primal and energetic music prepares the acolyte for the natural sounds encountered during the dissolution-process which is entered into with clear yogic awareness -
Yes - even humble herdsmen and agriculturalist nomads knew of such things in this part of the world -  Many centuries of exposure to the wisdom-culture of the Lamas and Yogis who thronged the country had allowed such ideas to permeate into the culture and scraps of mystical knowledge were common currency here -  The harsh environment had conditioned the people to a tough existence that was never far-removed from the reality of death -  This was also a great source of the compassion and understanding that permeated the philosophy of the people -
Lobsang took inspiration and murmured his own mantras for some time - clearing his mind and focusing on his aspirations as he slowly but constantly gained altitude and the sun rose to greet him in a blaze of golden glory -
After another three hours Lobsang drew close to the area of the cave -  He had prepared himself and told himself that a dead man can-t hurt anyone -  Being forewarned he was not really expecting to be particularly fearful of the corpse he was heading towards -

He vividly remembered the previous time he had seen the frozen body - curled up in a fetal position and partially buried under a drift of fine snow -  The image seemed to become clearer in his mind as he approached the cave - as if it had been suppressed all this time and was now being released -
The final couple of miles were quite hard-going - even for one as acclimatized as he was -  He stopped for a brief break and washed some tsampa down with a few mouthfuls of chang -  Sweeping his gaze around him he took in a wonderful collection of snowy peaks spread before him in all directions -  The sky showed a variety of beautiful colours -  At this altitude there was very little dust in the air and this gives a purity of vision and clarity of view -  At one point he saw a string of geese flying over - heading to one of the mountain-lakes hereabouts - Their lonesome cries in the brittle air resounded and echoed - bouncing off the ice-mountainsides and reverberating through the valleys for miles around -  The only other sound was the occasional rumble of a minor avalanche -  They were fairly constant in the region at that season and Lobsang knew enough about the mountains to usually manage to stay out of their path -  Once in a while he had had to run to one side to get out of their way but as they were fairly small this was easy enough -  He replaced the stopple in his drinking-gourd and got to his feet - ready to finish his business with the past and get back to his village before anyone noticed his absence -  Once more his felt-clad feet crunched virgin snow -

Rounding the last hunched ridge of ground he suddenly glimpsed the cave - high up in the side of a rocky cliff-face -  He started climbing -  At one point an eagle soared overhead - its shadow speeding across the ground - black on white -  wingtips flexed -
Reaching the cave at last Lobsang stepped inside - only to recoil in deep shock -  The body of the dead Englishman that he had last seen ten odd years before - huddled against the wall and looking very corpse-like and rigid - was now sitting upright in the Lotus posture - hands resting on knees -  eyes open and turned upwards as if in deep trance - for all the world looking just like a meditating yogi! 

Into The Thunderbolt Land

I heard it said that a philosophical and intellectual grasp of Sunyata can not be any substitute for Sunyata but can prepare the mind somewhat and clear away certain obstacles and obscurations -  Theory must not be mistaken for living experience -  The philosophical view must be suffused with the experience of Right-Meditation as it is in meditation that the true nature of mind and phenomena is seen - tasted - and realized -  A sense of kindness helps quicken the melting of the ego - 

*

Ha!  What is it~

*

The above notes were found scribbled in pencil in a notebook found in the jacket-pocket of Major Arthur Cromarty-Barnes - MC - DSO - when his frozen body was discovered huddled in an ice-cave 19000 feet up a Tibetan mountain where it had seemingly lain since the dark days of 1904 and the ill-fated expedition to conquer Lhasa for the British Crown -  

  The gangly and introspective curate-s son from a Somerset village had managed to convince the commanders of the invasion that it would be useful to the government to have an understanding of the local culture and religion and that he himself was just the man for such a mission -   Consequently he spent several months studying the language and particularly the unique religious and yogic practices of this Asian Antarctica -  Being already versed in the sacred language of Sanskrit he was happy to discover that most of the Lamas and Monks were fluent in it and so it was a common language between the austere followers of Dharma in the ice-mountains and the quiet-natured soldier from far over the mountains and the seas - the land of the red-faced-men -

Γιατί με ξύπνησες πρωί

Ρούκουνας - Κάτω στα λεμονάδικα 

(Οι λαχανάδες)

When the herdsman came across the frozen corpse of the foreigner back in the late 1940-s he had been looking for shelter during a sudden storm - vicious even by Tibetan meteorological standards -  He had been searching for a strayed Drhi - the female of the Yak species -  These beasts didn-t often stray but they were far too valuable to loose so when they did they must be found - even if it meant going way higher into the forbidding mountains of unutterable coldness - hardness - and towering ramparts of glistening ice to seek them -
Lobsang Tawa had never seen a foreigner before so naturally enough took Cromarty-Barnes for a demon and so was very trepidacious about sharing a cave with him - dead or alive -  After an hour or so of huddling near the mouth of the cave and watching the swirling whitesquall outside he slowly gained courage inspired mainly by curiosity and approached the strange looking creature that lay sprawled rigid in death - dressed in extraordinary clothes (like an Indian prince he mused) and carrying strange baggage -  
When Lobsang found the notebook he considered saving it for tinder - he could make nothing of the strange foreign script (English) anymore than he could have read his own language -  It was only when he came across a pencil-sketch of a Buddha-image that he suddenly stopped - touched the book to his head in reverence and tucked it into the folds of his chuba - his heavy Yak-skin coat - where it would be safe for future inspection - 

"27th August 1904 - North-Central Tibetan Plateau -  Arrived at the gompa or monastery at 1300 hours and was treated to a splendid welcome complete with several hundred chanting monks and an orchestra of shawms - cymbals and damaru - a species of hand-drum made from the skull-cups of two deceased monks placed back to back and stretched over with their skin -  After this tremendous racket I was feasted and then straight to work -  studying with the Lama and attempting to transcribe his teachings on the local form of Buddhism -  Though he was speaking the classical Indian Sanskrit tongue we ostensibly had in common - I soon found his rural Tibetan accent seemed to chew and distort many of the words into bizarre forms - no doubt my own linguistic attempts were equally strange to him but he did not seem put out about it -  A very jovial and considerate host who was demonstrating an incredibly subtle grasp of philosophy"
"To begin - simply leave the mind alone and do not try to correct its wanderings -  Try to keep returning to objectless awareness again and again -  Do not be upset if this seems hard at first - persevere - Even Shakyamuni Buddha had to work extremely hard to transform his "everyday mind" and unveil the essence - "
When the storm abated Lobsang Tawa had half a mind to leave the papers with the corpse - but he tightened his resolve and took them with him - along with several items he found on the dead man - 
He balanced his unease about taking from the dead by murmuring a string of mantras and blessing the consciousness of the departed foreigner -  Whoever he was - mused Lobsang - he had drawn that beautiful picture of Lord Buddha so he must obviously be a good man - even if he was such a strange colour - 
"A luminous awareness was born within you at your birth -  It naturally seeks to unite with the Greater Light - the Mother-Light - which is what we sometimes call the mind that has reached the fruition-stage - the naked awareness of Enlightenment that naturally dawns when the fog of confusion is cleared by the right methods - based on the right understanding and motivation -"

*

The news had filtered through to the highlands - The Chinese were coming!  Not like before - in 49 - this time it seemed like the whole Red Army was pouring into the country like a flood-time of evil venom and the killings had started - villages burned -  people shot - butchered - crucified - Particularly the priesthood and the monasteries - they seemed to be the particular target of the invader-s wrath as if they were determined to wipe out all trace of the Buddha-Dharma from the land of Tibet!

*

Lobsang Tawa was not the only Tibetan hastily hiding away religious objects and writings at that time -  He decided to return to the obvious hiding-place - the cave where he had first acquired the notebook from the deep-frozen cadaver of the gentle English scholar-soldier who had left off soldiering to study the highest truth - only to be killed by the notorious climate of the "Roof of the World" -  

*

"Without oceanic compassion for suffering sentient beings - who have all been our mothers and fathers in previous existences - and who now wander in dark and painful confusion -  we can not expect to advance one inch along the path -  Therefore we should reflect deeply again and again on the terrible misfortune of the myriad beings who wander ever deeper into Samsaric ignorance - pain and darkness -  We should dwell on this over and over again until a spontaneous and profound feeling of compassion arises within us and - grasping the interdependability of their Enlightenment with our own - we vow to never abandon sentient beings until Samsara is empty and all beings dwell content and blissful in their constant experience of essence - nature and compassion"

*

"2nd September 1904:  "The Abbot or Rimposhe - as everyone calls the Lama - in between our formal study sessions - has been asking me a great many questions about my country and what it is like there -  I tried to paint him a verbal picture of London but I soon realized I had bitten off more than I could chew as his curiosity knew no bounds and each statement by me triggered a further round of questions!  His lively mind was also fascinated by my wrist-watch - they are unknown here - and I explained to him what it was for and offered to give it to him as a gift -  He expressed a humble gratitude but also laughed at the idea of measuring time in such minute portions -  They tend to take a different view of time here and some of the religious ceremonies literally go on for days -  Rimposhe himself told me that the Sanskrit examination he had sat had taken two weeks to complete!  
Our discussion of time and my references to "past - present and future" provoked an interesting reaction from the Lama - He pointed out that within the meditational discipline that he pursued - the practitioners referred to a "fourth time" -  When I asked him to explain how you could have a period of time that lay neither in the past - present or future he explained that the consciousness of time that we ordinarily experience is due to our karmic entanglement in gross states of being -  As one progresses down the path of meditation - eventually time can melt away altogether along with the net of dualistic concepts and obscurations known as "conditioned-existence" -  In this deep state of natural undistracted meditation on the Tathaghatagharba or pure essence of consciousness our "normal" sense of time simply melts away -  This is known as the fourth time - "

*

The sun was streaming through the willow trees along the bank of the river - making dancing dapples of light that quivered as the wind shook the boughs and sighed gently overhead -  A splash announced a jumping trout -  The boys quickened their pace -  Arthur and his elder brother George were enjoying the first day of the summer holidays and there was nothing they liked better than going fishing down at the lazy old river that wound through their part of rustic Somerset - deep in the heart of the English countryside -  This early summer season was particularly beautiful - the air shone and the skies buzzed with flies - perfect for fishing!  Mellow clouds of sunlight drifted overhead constantly changing and flickering over the scene -  Songbird-s melodious chirp filled the bright air and contentment drowzed - flickered and flared up again as enthusiasm  -  What could be better than to be gone all day - down to the river -  with all the gear carefully packed and a picnic of jam-sandwiches and coconut macroons with a couple of stoneware jars of ginger-beer~  
The river - like the mid-summer afternoon itself - seemed to flow on forever -  Sometimes it would gurgle and splash - a fish would jump - sending dancing jewels of water up into the bright summer air - The two brothers propped their fishing-rods up on V-shaped sticks and reclined in the drowsy heat - talking of their future ambitions -  They both decided they would be soldiers when they grew up -  
This boyhood dream was partially fulfilled -  George went on to study divinity and eventually became the vicar of Upper Siddlington parish church - taking over the position from his father on his retirement - 
Arthur did stick to his boyish dream of wearing the uniform of an army-officer and serving King and Country in the foreign heat of some far-flung place - Arthur had been posted to various parts of the world after finishing his training - and was considered a well-experienced man who had proven himself in battle -  However - it was his early interest in linguistics and oriental studies that had got him picked out for the Tibet mission - and now - instead of sweltering in the hot dust of Zululand or the plains of India or Persia - he found himself freezing to death in a cave high in the Tibetan mountains - 

Feathery Crept Krogens In Gelatinous Meniscus

And feathery crept krogens under the sea as gelatinous swirled the meniscus-slop -  Brine drip and sluice round the planet in a bulge of starfish - spicules and suckers - rippling the lip of the shore and spindrift circling above -  A great carrack rock stuck up out of the ocean and the krogens slithered onto it and started the infinitely slow process of evolution - from mollusc to man - 

The Brain It Reigneth Every Day

Glawak yn Kernow yw - Rain splashes on the Shyre -  
mixing with the ocean at Pensanskrit prom where waves break onto the drizzly grey flagstones and seals bob up and down in the waves - a mother teaching her pup to swim -  Herrings shoaling in and mists and mizzles settling in for the foreseeable -  Fisherfolk swarming - parading - spying out to sea with spyglass for the Spanish fleet - and dreaming of sunnier days of summer back in New Lynsmouth where processions swarm the piers of the harbour where once a great scuttling of crustaceans took place and a great rattling of carapaces was heard throughout the land -
The music of rain was the constant song now and the rattling of wind in the roofs and gables - the old towne was battening down for winter and keeping a weather-eye out for the weather -  Gulls ruled the sky and starfish slept deep in pools of glassy green sea-water under fathoms of brine -   Here too lurked Lepadogaster lepadogaster - also his cousin - Lepadogaster purpurea - The Cornish Sucker -  The Puffer-Fish shuddered and went off in a huff -  

An Morvil Kornek

In Moonlight

The scribe-s house was deep in the high moorland country which dominates the very tip of Britain-s most westerly shyre -  The lane which led to it twisted its way between high Cornish hedges - some of which contained massive block-work redolent of the mystic Bronze Age -  The scribe walked this lane one moonlightful night alone in the bright radiance that glazed the countryside all about -
  The lane snaked along the side of a valley - its high hedges following the natural contours as if it was originally built to defend the valley -   After some time and a brief glimpse of a fox out hunting he finally caught sight of his house bathed and dappled in moonlight -
  It was a large - rather Gothic and curiously ancient house - set alone and aloof in its isolated enys - its patch of rugged and empty moorland -  He had bought it for its solitude - its considerable distance from any other habitation -   For a writer needs a certain amount of solitude and here he could truly write -  What-s more the conditions on that particular night were perfect as there was nothing that stirred his imagination more than a full moon -  like the one that at that moment was shining in through the many windows off his ancient abode -   After taking a moment to brew tea he proceeded to the centre of his kingdom - the large mahogany table in front of the window through which he could view the spacious lawns and topiaries of the rather formal but deeply enchanting garden -
  A slight mist shrouded the shrubs and anointed them in glistening jewels of moisture - Whisps of atmospheric fog drifted over the lawns looking sometimes like clouds - sometimes like figures or fauns -  He picked up his pen to write - moved by the scene in front of him and its haunting atmosphere but even as he did so he seemed to swoon and spin into a blissful trance - a reverie or species of dream-vision or seeing -
  The crystal-glass paper-weight before him gleamed with untold and unusual clarity and it seemed the glare and glister was enmeshed somehow with his own mind and self and he himself was becoming crystalline and clear in feel and mind - as if the clarity of the crystal in the moonlight was transferred to his own perception thereby clarifying it and making it pure as clean water -
  He stopped - drew breath - stared in wonder - the pen dropping from his hand and clattering quietly to the table -  He let go and felt no need to fathom the cause of the feeling or seek explanation but rather merely he kept to a quiet stillness and rapturous flowed the time around him -
  The moments as mere pebbles in a stream or fluttering birds of the air - glazed and joyous he sat rapt and rapturous in a symphony of curious happiness -  And if such was so strong and real and true he mused it must have been there all along -  This he did not so much think as wordlessly intuit and know in his heart - 
  A cathedral of moonbeams illuminated the room and bounced and glittered from a thousand and one shiny glints hither and thither -  The still beauty of the moon had crept stealthily into his domain and wafted him into a deep samadhi state -  Joy and wonder are one really -  They brimmed over in him and he gazed before him as the seer of a new world --
  Knowing this to be the nature of beings he was content -