25
“I will have the pig’s delight,” I announced to Kunda, the man whose home we were staying in a few nights later. The pig’s delight, when it arrived, was delicious, quite savory, one of the very best pig’s delights I’d ever had. When some of my monks glanced over at me as I ate, I addressed them in no uncertain terms: “No one will eat this pig’s delight but the Tathagata!”
After I finished my meal, I remember sitting back and wondering if there was anything that would make the leftover pig’s delight taste even better? An answer occurred to me: What if Kunda buried the remaining pig’s delight in a pit for a while, “aged” it, mightn’t that make it taste even more delicious? I thought it might. “Bury this leftover pig’s delight, my good man,” I instructed Kunda. (MPB 4:18–20) “The next time we are back here,” I remember thinking to myself as he exited the room with my bowl, “I have a feeling that my pig’s delight is going to be absolutely scrummy.”
Later that night I noticed Ananda looking over at me with a concerned expression on his face. “What is it, old friend?”
“I am worried that the pig’s delight you ate was tainted, master.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Fear not, old friend. The Tathagata has a superb digestive system, everything he eats is digested with perfect ease.”
“That is a relief to hear, master, because that pig’s delight looked, to be honest, slightly rotten.”
“Let me clarify something for you, Ananda. The Tathagata chews perfectly, the Tathagata swallows perfectly and the Tathagata digests perfectly.”
“That is wonderful to hear, master.”
“The Tathagata never gets sick, Ananda, and this is why: Because the Tathagata has transcended sickness.” (AVDS)
“Oh, good.”
Sadly, however, Ananda turned out to be right; the pig’s delight I’d eaten had been rotten. I woke up in the middle of the night with violent, bloody diarrhea. (UD 8:5; MPB) “I’m going to defecate myself to death,” I remember quickly grasping. That was not the exit I would have liked, to say the very least. “Shitting myself out” seemed highly undignified. (I’d kind of thought that I would eventually turn into a solid piece of gold, to be honest.) (SV) On the positive side, however, I would have looked like a fool if I’d guaranteed Mara that I was going to die in three months and then hadn’t done it. I needed something to “take me out,” and looked at that way, the tainted pig’s delight was a godsend. (If I hadn’t been poisoned, did I have a “backup plan” to end my life? Yes. I was going to throw myself under Nalagiri the killer elephant.)
Q: Did I blame Kunda, the man who had served me the rotten pig’s delight, for my dysentery? A: No, I certainly did not. “If anyone should ever hold Kunda responsible for my death,” I instructed Ananda the next morning, “if anyone should ever refer to him as ‘Buddha-killer’ or ‘Destroyer of Perfection,’ or anything like that, you must immediately correct them, Ananda. ‘No,’ you must tell them, ‘it is good that Kunda caused the Perfect One’s death, because it helped him achieve extinction. For this, Kunda is not to be criticized, but rather praised. The truth is that Kunda should be rich, famous and, honestly, good-looking for killing the Perfect One!’” (MPB 4:42) At that moment, feeling emotional, I began to sing.
To the good comes the good
To the bad comes the bad
I feel no anger, I am not sad
I am not bitter, I feel no lust
Soon I will be merely bones, merely dust.
Later that day I rested on one side, catching my breath between bouts of diarrhea. Ananda sat next to me, holding my hand. As I winced, he squeezed my hand. “Shall I sing to you of your many marvelous qualities, master?”
“That would be very nice, Ananda,” I whispered.
Ananda had a deep, gravelly singing voice, not exactly good but definitely sincere. “Morning star, oh man of love, Holy One came from above,” he began.
“Lovely …”
“Always good and always true, like a glorious sky of blue. Lotus man, no Lotus King, you know literally everything!”
“It’s true …”
“Like an angel is this man, who can best him, no one can! Exalted Being, Incomparable Soul, utter extinction is your goal!”
“Well done, Ananda, thank you, my UUUHHHHHHHH.” I stopped, unable to continue because of the pain. A few moments later, Ananda looked at me with an unsure expression on his face. “Master?”
“Hm?”
“Is it true that another Buddha, named ‘Maitreya,’ is already in heaven, getting ready to enter the world and teach us?”
“Who said that?”
“I have heard various townspeople talking about it. Some of them are praying to be reborn when Maitreya arrives, others are using alchemy to extend their lives so that they might meet him.”
“These people are delusional, Ananda.”
“They say his name means ‘Kindness,’ master. They believe that he will be exceedingly kind and good-hearted, jovial even.”
“Enough about this made-up character, ‘Maitreya.’ I need to rest, Ananda.”
“Yes, master, I’m so sorry, master.”
26
That night I had a vivid dream. I was flying over the world in a wooden boat. Hearing a slight giggle, I turned to my left. A fat, shirtless man sat there, grinning back at me as he guided the flying boat. “Who are you?” I whispered.
“Do you not know me, Tathagata?” the man chuckled, his great belly jiggling as he did.
“Are you the one called ‘Maitreya’?”
“Indeed I am, Tathagata, the very one, hahahahaha!”
“What are you laughing about?”
“I am jolly, Tathagata, for many reasons, but in part because I am thrilled to see my half-brother!”
“We are not half-brothers.”
“Oh, but we are! Maya is my mother too! (GV 44) Also, I bear wonderful news!”
“What do you mean?”
“Look down, my friend!”
I did and saw that we were flying over the Ganges. “First the bad news, Tathagata. Your lovely little religion is going to fail utterly here in your homeland. There are several reasons for this: Hinduism, which you have stolen so much from (hahaha, just kidding—dharma, karma, reincarnation, meditation, these are only TINY little lifts, right?), will reassert itself. Then later, a whole new religion will appear from the west, Tathagata, expressing a belief in one god who rules over absolutely everything. ‘Allah,’ they will call him, and between these two, Hinduism and what will be called ‘Islam,’ your charming little religion will be swept away completely, Tathagata, oh boohoo! But not to worry, my friend, because now we get to the wonderful news! Your religion, you see, will simply move north—NOW you will understand why I look the way I do—into China!”
Suddenly the flying boat zoomed up and over the Himalayas and in the blink of an eye we were cruising over a landscape I had never seen before.
“Your religion will flourish in China, Tathagata!” Maitreya announced. “Here they will grasp things about your teachings that no one ever had before!”
“Like what?”
“Like the existence of Pure Land, for instance!”
“Pure Land? What are you talking about?”
“Hahaha, you are so funny, Tathagata! Pure Land, where one lives in eternal bliss after death!”
“I never said anything about the existence of such a place. What I said was that life is pain and the only relief from that pain is extinction. I have literally never said one word about a place called ‘Pure Land.’”
Maitreya smiled a sly little smile and spoke in an insinuating voice which I instantly despised. “Oh, but people were onto you, Tathagata, they knew what you really meant. After you are dead (and it won’t be long now, my friend, that pig’s delight is doing its work on you as we speak, haha), lessons will emerge in which you reveal your real meaning! You didn’t achieve ‘enlightenment’ at the age of thirty-five, you were enlightened the whole ti
me, you were just being clever!” (LOT) Then, before I could respond, Maitreya cried out, “Hold on, Clever One!” and we shot forward again, this time zooming across the ocean. As we approached a large island, he nodded. “Here is another place where your religion will take hold, Tathagata. Supreme wisdom here in Japan will be realized through asking questions such as the following: ‘What is the sound of one hand clapping?’”
“ … What?”
“What is the sound—?”
“It doesn’t make any sense, one hand can’t possibly—”
Maitreya casually reached over and slapped me in the face, hard.
“What was that for?”
“That is how future students will be taught in Japan, Tathagata!”
“By being hit ?”
“It will lead them to sudden awakening! Here’s another excellent question for you: ‘What is the Buddha?’”
“I don’t …”
“A dried shit stick!” Maitreya cried merrily and once again hit me in the face with his meaty hand. (CSG)
“I am certainly not a dried shit stick and stop hitting me.”
“Now the real excitement begins, Tathagata, hold on tight!” Maitreya exclaimed and with that, we suddenly exploded straight upward at a dazzling speed. The moon, the stars and the planets whizzed by us in a sort of mad blur before, just as suddenly as we took off, we slowed down. We were now floating lazily over an almost indescribably beautiful landscape, green and verdant, laced with burbling, limpid streams and dotted with magnificently vibrant flowers and trees.
“Where are we?” I gasped.
“Welcome to Pure Land, Tathagata. Breathtaking, isn’t it?!” As we drifted slowly over a magnificent forest: “The trees here do not bear fruit, Tathagata, rather they bear jewels!” (LSV 16)
“That doesn’t make any sense, you can’t eat jewels.”
“Ah, but the beings who live in Pure Land do eat jewels, Tathagata. They LOVE eating jewels, that’s how refined they are! They don’t eat revolting things like gravy, oh no no. No one here would ever wish for gravy, the truth is they wouldn’t be here in Pure Land if they did, hahahaha! (LSV 19) Because they eat jewels, there are no horrible ailments in Pure Land. There are no retards, no hunchbacks, no cripples, and as for stst-st-stammering, it simply does not exist. Isn’t that wonderful?” (PMKS 228–57)
Now we floated over a grove of tall, thin, perfectly straight trees. “Those are the wishing trees, Tathagata! All you need to do is wish for something from them and you will receive it! Go ahead, my friend, wish for something, anything! A giant diamond perhaps? A massive pearl? A lapis lazuli necklace? Your wish will be fulfilled, whatever it is, I assure you!”
“As I told you, all I wish for is extinction.”
“Oh no no no, Tathagata, that is far too negative! Pure Land is a place of endless happiness and joy!” (NBS)
“Happiness and joy do not even exist. All that exists is pain.”
“How funny you are, Tathagata, how very droll, hahahaha!” Maitreya now steered the flying wooden boat over a vibrant little town where beaming people in brightly colored outfits skipped joyfully about. “Welcome to Amithaba City, Tathagata!”
“Who is Amithaba?”
“Amithaba is the beloved ruler of Pure Land, Tathagata! Soon you will meet him, very exciting.”
Before I could respond, Maitreya nodded excitedly. “Look at all the charming stores, Tathagata! They sell musical instruments—flags … umbrellas … jewelry … perfumes! Everything a person needs to be eternally happy, wouldn’t you say? Look at all the splendid banners!” Looking down, I could see people marching around, carrying banners that read things like, “WE LOVE AMITHABA!” or “HOORAY FOR AMITHABA!” “They are having a parade in honor of their beloved leader!” Maitreya cocked his head slightly. “Listen, Tathagata, even the gods are cheering for them now! And oh my goodness, LOOK! Some of the gods are dancing with them, isn’t that captivating? What a blissful place Pure Land is, eh, Tathagata? All those people and gods dancing and playing trumpets and shaking their jewelry around, this is the true nirvana, isn’t it, my friend?” (LSV 19–26; PMKS 228–57)
Again, before I could respond: “And look at all the happy children, Tathagata! In case you are wondering, by the way, yes, they will stay children indefinitely! No one ages here in Pure Land, there is no birth, no death and certainly no sex (that part I know you will approve of, hahahahahaha! ). Look how the children’s jewelry sparkles! Do you know how many jewels each child’s necklace contains, Tathagata? Five hundred million! That’s a lot of jewels, isn’t it? (BA 12) The gods all have perfect penises, incidentally.” (LSV 35)
“ … What did you just say?”
“Perfect penises, the gods all have them, as I’m sure you know.”
Now we suddenly passed through a thick cloud of flowers. “It’s raining flowers, Tathagata, isn’t it glorious? Look at all the beautiful birds down on the ground. Six times a day they perform a concert, singing about virtue and wisdom and also of course praising our beloved leader, Amithaba! (SSV 6) And listen to that stream, Tathagata! It’s making music too, do you hear? The stream’s song is discussing the nature of suffering. How very profound! Look, Tathagata, musical instruments are floating all around us, playing along with the stream’s melancholy tune! How utterly breathtaking!” (LSV 23; BA 14)
We headed towards what looked like an endless, perfectly circular lake covered with gigantic flowers. “Now we get to the most important part of Pure Land, Tathagata: The giant lotus flowers! These flowers, in case you are wondering, are one hundred miles wide! Out of the center of each one of them shoot trillions of rays of light, and from each individual ray of light emerges—you will like this, Tathagata—three thousand seven hundred golden Buddhas!! Look at all the golden Buddhas popping out of the giant lotus flowers, they seem virtually infinite, don’t they?” (LSV 16)
It was true, the sky around us was suddenly thick with flying golden Buddhas. “This is a dream,” I murmured to myself. “It is literally not possible for there to be so many Buddhas.”
“Oh, and why not, Tathagata?”
“The appearance of a single Buddha is a momentous occasion in the history of the universe.”
“Agreed!”
“If even a second Buddha were to appear, the entire universe would collapse.”
“Oh no no no!”
“A Buddha requires ALL of the universe’s resources to sustain his brief and shining presence and therefore there cannot possibly be trillions of them, it is absurd.” (MQ; LOT)
“But look at all the golden Buddhas flying around! And here’s a fun fact: Eventually everyone will be a Buddha and do you know why? Because everyone possesses Buddha Nature!”
“No, I am the only Buddha.”
“Indeed you are, Tathagata! But not for much longer, haha!” Then, in a hushed, reverent voice: “Look, Tathagata, it is Amithaba.”
There, at the center of the largest lotus flower of them all, dead center of the giant lake, sat a motionless figure, dressed all in white. As we glided silently towards him: “All you need to do to come live here in Pure Land and exist in eternal pleasure is say his name, Tathagata.” Maitreya whispered. “On your deathbed, merely say, ‘Amithaba … Amithaba … Amithaba,’ and he will guide you here to Pure Land, if you are lucky on his boat of love, ‘Najrayana,’ which means ‘Diamond Thunderbolt Vehicle.’ Isn’t that spectacular?” (LSV 28; OJO, Pure Land)
“No, it’s pretentious.”
“Remember, Tathagata—‘Amithaba … Amithaba … Amithaba.’”
Then, in a flash I was standing at the center of the giant lotus flower, facing Amithaba. He sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. I looked around; Maitreya was gone. Without opening his eyes, Amithaba spoke. “I am Amithaba,” he proclaimed. “I welcome you to my home, the true nirvana, Pure Land.”
“This is a dream.”
“Do you wish to stay here in Pure Land, sinner?”
“Of course I don’t wish to
stay here in Pure Land.”
“I, Amithaba, hold the sole key to existence. Behold me, sinner, bow down before me and be saved.”
“I will not.”
“Bow down in humility and I will save you.”
“This is a nightmare …”
Amithaba’s eyes popped open and he stared directly into my eyes. “All the goodness of the universe is gathered in my name,” he said. “Speak my name now, sinner.”
“I will not.”
“Speak my name and surrender to me, sinner, surrender to me NOW.”
“NO.”
“Say ‘Amithaba … Amithaba … Amithaba …’”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOO!”
I woke up in a cold sweat. “In hindsight, I really shouldn’t have eaten that pig’s delight,” I remember thinking.
27
“When you are gone, master, what will become of us, who will lead us?” Ananda asked two nights before my death.
“My ideas will continue to lead you, Ananda.”
“Some of the monks have been asking questions, master. ‘Why did the Tathagata not appoint a successor?’ they say.”
“What do you tell them, Ananda?”
“‘How could anyone replace such a supremely enlightened being? The Perfect One’s gaze is penetrating, his ideas are unprecedented and his beauty is indescribable. How dare you ask such a question?’”
“That is good.”
“‘The Tathagata is the flower of all mankind, a beautiful gem of many facets who cannot possibly be replaced, that is why he left us no successor.’”
“Exactly right, Ananda. Well done.”
“‘But why should not the Tathagata’s son lead us?’ some of the monks have asked.”
“What’s that?”
“‘Rahula is not his father, monks,’” I tell them.
“Not even close.”
“‘But what about you, Ananda?’ some of the monks have said. ‘Why don’t you lead us? After all, you have been with the Tathagata for over forty years now.’”
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