John Saward – June 03, 2017 at 06:50AM

“Protectors of the Illumination Stream”: The Trout of the Bardo and the Tennis Trophy of Freedom.

(C) 2014 – 2017 J.D.Saward

B. The prologue itself.

“In the Bardo, past and present are One. There is also the future but that does not occur until after the Bardo is Done.”

The old professor grimaced as he read the ancient text google had just delivered to him. The disruption in his mind was shaking him to the core. This explanation of Bardo was the missing piece of the puzzle he has been working on for a decade or more. If the future is not included in the present, which is the Bardo, and in the Bardo we are bound to the notions of ourselves we formed in the past, and that binding is absent from the future, or will be, then it can only be so that, in the future we are free, and that is in fact the only place we are free.

Could all this be so? All the other ancient Bardoic textual resources were in accordance with one, and only one, thing: The past, the present, and the future are as one.

And now, his mind grasps the significance of the text: The past and the present are the Bardo. Our true life is in the future. Outside the Bardo. Where time is an insignificant dream.

The unraveling of past and present is thus unnecessary. He notes this on his e-pad.

He settles down to dream.

In the dream his future is chased but never found. For a long long time in that dream he traverses that ditch of a place where the present and past are one.

For the past is but memories and neuronal patterns that inform the construction of a present that is bound in that weaving, in the mind of the dreamer, and in that dreaming the dreamer arises and falls without hope of release.

His assistant comes to him in the early morning light. She reads on his e-pad:

After my mother died,
just a couple of weeks later,
my uncle,
who had been appointed executor,
came to me
at my favourite fishing spot
by the river.

And she reads on into the day, and into the next night, and for many days ahead, as her husband writes his account further, always keeping the weaving of his story and metaphors and propositions a section or two ahead of her reading, and in the breaks between sections they make love.

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