barriers which had been raised about him from the time of
his awakening in the lake until th present.
His past life lay open before
He saw the hall of the
he had sat in
conversation with that fool
hist monk; he saw the
little la
Rājagaha through which he had hurried and
the cow
nd about and the golden‐clad monks themselves. And
saw the forests and the country roads of his spiritual
race
d
At once he found himself in the cleft again, like a
in
the first time, no
ne can bear the perfume of the Coral Tree for long, and
e in
pen
nd
ite‐robed one said she imagined I had not yet
een
ine
ha in
e
him.
r
potte where
ish Budd
ne in
tearing towards him — then the horrified faces
rou
he
wanderings, his palace and his two wives, the courtesans
of Ujjenī, the robbers, the grove of Krishna and the Ter
of the Sorrowless with Vāsitthī, his father’s house, an
the children’s room...
And behind that he saw another life, and yet
another, and still another, and ever others, as one sees a
line of trees on a country road until the trees become
points and the points blend into one strip of shadow.
At this, his brain began to reel.
*
*
*
leaf that is driven by the w d. For on
o
th
stinct of self‐preservation bears everyone away from
there at the first sign of dizziness.
As he, by and by, moved more quietly through the
o
valley, Kāmanīta pondered — “Now I understa
why the wh
b
to the Coral Tree. For I certainly could not imag
then what they had meant by ‘dream‐pictures’; but now I
know, for in that other life I have seen such. And I also
know now why I am here. I wanted to visit the Budd
the Mango Grove near Rājagaha. Of course that intention
was frustrated by my sudden and violent death, but my
195
good intentions have been looked on favourably and so I
have reached this place of bliss as though I had indeed sat
at his feet and had died in his blessèd Teaching. So my
pilgrimage has not been in vain.” At this realisation a great
glad sigh issued forth from his heart, and he flew on.
Very soon Kāmanīta reached the lake again, where
he let himself down upon his red lotus flower like a bird
that returns to its nest.
196
~ 25 ~
T
HE BUD OF THE LOTUS OPENS
I
T SUDDENLY SEEMED TO Kāmanīta as though some‐
thing living were moving in the depths of the lake. In
the crystal deeps he became dimly aware of a rising
‐tipped, shot like a fish above the surface
n which it then lay swimming and rocking. The waters
themselves rose and sank in ever‐extending rings and,
for a long time afterwards, trembled and glittered into
fragments and radiating light, as if the lake were filled with
liquid diamonds; the reflection of the watery coruscations
flickered up like miniature flames over the lotus leaves,
the robes and the faces and forms of the Blessèd.
*
*
*
Kāmanīta’s own being trembled and radiated all its
hidden colours, and over his heart also there seemed to
dance, as if in happy play, a reflection of joyous emotion.
“What was that?” his glance asked of his blue
neighbour.
“Deep down, among far‐distant worlds on the
gloomy earth, a human being has this instant centred their
heart’s desire upon entering again into existence here in
Sukhavatī. Now let us also see whether the bud will
develop well and finally blossom. For many fix their desire
on this pure abode of bliss and yet are not able to live up
shadow. The waters bubbled and seethed, and a large
lotus bud, red
o
199
to its fulfilment but, on the contrary, they entangle them‐
selves again in a maze of unholy
succumb to the
cravings of sensuality and remain bound to the coarseness
of life on earth. Then the bud withers away and at last
disappears entirely. This time, as ou see, it is a male.
Such a one, in the chequered life of earth, fails more easily
on the path to Paradise; and for this reason you will also
notice that, even if the red and white are about equal in
number, amongst the blue the females are by far the more
numerous.
At this communication the heart of Kāmanīta
quivered strangely, as if all at once joy blended with pain
and sorrow, bearing a promise of future happiness, had
set it vibrating; and his gaze rested upon a closed lotus
flower nearby, as though seeking the solution to some
riddle. It was as white as the breast of a swan and rocked
gracefully quite near to him in the still gently moving
water.
“Can you remember seeing the bud of my lotus
rise from the depths?” He asked of his experienced
neighbour.
“Surely, for it came up together with that white
flower you are now gazing upon. And I have always
watched the pair of you, at times with some anxiety. For
fairly soon after its birth your bud began perceptibly to
shrivel up, and it had almost sunk beneath the surface of
the water when all at once it raised itself again, became
fuller and brighter, and then developed magnificently until
it opened. The white one, however, grew slowly but
gradually and evenly towards the day when it should
open, when suddenly it was attacked as if by some sick‐
ness. It recovered, however, very quickly and became the
magnificent flower you now see before you.”
At these words there arose in Kāmanīta such a
of joy that it really seemed to him as if he had
passions,
y
feeling
200
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