Question
Hello Master,
I am twelve, reading Lobsang Rampa. Fourteen, afraid of ghosts I have never seen. Sixteen, beginning yoga. Seventeen, setting out on the roads in search of my life’s path. Twenty-seven, I find a way. Thirty, watching a shooting star, I make a wish that my eyes may open to the secret of life.
May 1994.
A point on my forehead descends into my belly and rises to my heart. I am afraid. I am afraid. I accept. I accept; it was so easy. A halo around my head. Everything comes from what is not; I am no longer afraid of dying. Everything returns to what is not.
Everything becomes sacred: the stone, the table. Life is precious. I am born.
November 1994.
It rises up my spine. For a moment, a spot in my back hurts, then it keeps rising, rising. It is like an orgasm, but it does not stop. The music is so beautiful, a flower blooms, a star in the sky. I had wandered for thousands of years; I will never be alone again. I hear another language, the hidden language of creation; everything speaks it. One equals two, equals three… Everything comes in pairs. I am on the mountain; I come back down. I cannot do otherwise. I cannot speak of it. It stays within me: despair, why have you abandoned me? Then a bridge, paths to cross again. I let the current carry me without reacting; I no longer search, yet it is still there.
2003.
I am here. Again I set out on a quest. May I, do I have the right to ask for help when I have received everything? I am on the threshold of a half-open door; I can move neither inward nor outward. There was a mirror; it broke and was glued back together. How do you use such a mirror? What can you do with it?
Thank you for paying attention to these few words.
Anonymous
Master Kosen’s answer
We have always known everything already. The task is to remember, assimilate, master, and make it our own. For that we need a practice, a master, and time.
Kosen