THE GATES OF KALAPA

GATE 1

Beyond the small stream of a life
Led striving with memory,
A cold thought at one's back:
Possibility, obligation, achievement
Heard of but not yet known or seen;


To turn from this


Past the poverty of holding back,
Past choosing,
Past consulting needs as oracles;

Past the all-consuming vacuum
That is called a self,
Wandering diminished in a shadow world:


To turn from this,


And see beneath a clear vast cobalt sky
The world in autumn,
In hazy gilded light
Turned crisp by cold air.

The mountain's purple shadowed clefts
Blacken remote stands of pine.
Against the dust of early snow.

Tree tops burn against the sky,
Yellow and red light filling leaves,
And ripple with the sound of distant clapping hands.

The smell of wood smoke hovering in the dry air
Bears the deeper scent of horses and of mouldering grass;
A taste in the air of dried corn and snow:
Here, in this world, longing ripens
In fulfillment of an afternoon

As gold fulfills light and space,
Pervading mountain tops, wheat stalks, a ripe pear.
Deer move warily to fodder, and geese arch to winter home,
And stillness.


GATE 2


In this mirror of limitless ayatanas,
The Kingdom of Shambhala opens from the heart

In this, the immediate path of timeless time,
The gold eight petalled heart lotus of Shambhala opens.

Watching a hornet circle in the air,
Sight, turning beyond aims,
Enters into ceaseless expansion,
Is pure awareness.

Listening to a silvery wind chime,
Hearing, turning beyond questioning,
Enters into silent immensity,
Is pure space.

Smelling the perfume on a passerby,
Smell, turning beyond memories,
Enters into wordless depth,
Is pure time.

Tasting the bitterness of strong black tea,
Taste, turning beyond satisfactions,
Entered into inescapable intimacy,
Is pure love.

Feeling the thick fur of a horse's winter coat,
Touch, turning beyond preference,
Enters into all-pervasive contact,
Is real non-duality.

Aware of time's passage,
Consciousness, turning beyond meanings,
Enters into its unobstructed boundlessness,
Is pure light.

Body and wakefulness inseparable:
This is the spontaneous union of kaya and jnana:
The self-existing mandala of dralas.

The Kingdom of Shambhala
Lives as a pure realm,
On the earth, and in the heart.

Shambhala is alive in the senses
And opens itself
As one turns one's face
To the full hot light of the blazing sun.


GATE 3

Like touching a rock face,
Because it is the support of life,
Entering it is like falling
Into a fathomless golden sea.

Like drinking liquor,
Because it is luminous,
Entering it is like being flooded
With joy.

Like hearing the sound of a silver bell
Because it is true,
Entering it is like being stripped
Of petty mind.

Because it is powerful
Entering it is like being struck
By a blue-white lightening bolt.

Because it is all victorious,
Entering it is like knowing reality
Irreversibly.




Douglas Penick, Magyel Pomra Sayi Dakpo 10/18/94