by Vajrananda Nielsen

I wake up in the yard by the morning light and a dripping from the roof. The rain has filled me up half way and the first drip is a good morning that sends soft sounding vibrations into every part of me - on the outside as well as on the inside. Such a morning resounds in me with joy! It is then holy just to open yourself for the day!

 This is my working place. Later the eyes meet the yard of Concordia with all its tools from yesterday, all the wood, planks, bricks, buildings,- holy items in the eyes of the beholder. More drops from the roof. Every drop resounds the blessedness of the silence of a new morning! – and the day starts! I now love this place, the place where I have my daily work.

A hand takes me by the handle. And off we go along the house. In there, they probably still sleep – the Romanian karma yogis each in their bed, with their humble territory of privacy, for months! Thank you for making your way to Denmark and for building this house of God for us! All forms are the divine consciousness! The divine consciousness is a machine mixing sand, stones, water and calk to mortar, a big mother with a giant mouth, who with her stomach says: ”continuous transformation! continuous transformation!”. If you look too deep into that mouth it is like a vortex that swallows you into unknown dimensions. Then it makes the Vamana of its content into us: ”The  buckets.” (N.Ed.: Vamana: purification technique usually performed in the morning, which implies drinking water and then vomiting it out, in order to clean the stomach).

I reach my mother and it is fed close to the kitchen of the human beings. I am fed with the heavy mortar and hanged on a hook. Look! Now I am levitating! High up till I reach the roof of the building. It is a wonderful view from up here and the sun is shining. I am the humble servant. I am being emptied and filled. Like a human mind is emptied and filled, contracted and expanded day by day on this karma yoga work. I just do what I am put to do, My Dharma, I am burning my karma. Another big and strong fist lifts me and carries me to the wall builders. They get all of my content. Then I enjoy the waiting with a view: The many shining windows in the sun behind which people are living. The big space of air and the view comforts me and makes me remember my soul, remember what I do, and who I am.

The tree and the dove:

A dove flies; a dove from the forest. It glides lightly in between the branches of the big tree.  The tree is the soul of the yard and It pleases me many times a day; the big crown and all its branches striving towards the light. I enjoy every leaf that waves so harmoniously and so God made every time I look up. God has made this tree only to remind me that I am the divine consciousness and nothing else, nothing else. By this thought the dove flies up again and takes the way out of the tree to a nearby roof. I stand in the corner waiting to come down with the rope and the hook. But the human being is joyful and throws me on a flying trip directly down on a pile of sand way down there. It is very uncomfortable for the stomach, and it is a violent blow from the landing. My body will not endure this too many times.

Ego:

I am now filled with some stiff scratching bricks. They are some tough, stubborn guys. Now it is difficult to keep your humbleness… these egos that blow themselves so arrogantly up. Or... is it myself? The outer is the inner and the inner is the outer. It has to be my own projections! I see that now!

Just a game:

A new man is throwing stones just for the fun of it! As if there was not enough to do! But he reminds me that it is all just a game. He is trying to hit a hallow tube. He is a musician! Other karma yogis come and keep a little break. I am ashamed of my self, of my harsh judgment. He helps me today to see everything as just an easy, effortless game. Thank you! And thank you to you my dear sunbeam who warms up my whole being.

A kick:

I am standing on the ground. I am in the way. I get a kick so that I fly several meters along the earth scratching the rough asphalt. There are also days like this, not all moments are full of light, - they are, but in the world of the human beings some days are still in the hands of fixated passions!

Giant-Shiva:

We have been working a long time on this building and hard. To day arrives a giant lifter. The tree has to be cut for him to get in. I am highly amazed. Here we have been working in our own little world. We have been playing Shiva! Been Shiva! Meditated on Shiva! There is a man with a remote control for the lifter that stands in the middle of a truck. He stands straight with the smallest movements of the hand and makes this giant raise up, shoot himself up and into our garden, - like a giant phallus, - Siva, mighty Siva!  A giant that lifts iron bars of one tone each! With the movement of a graceful elephant he puts them one over the other very delicately and controlled. They are the construction of steal that will support this house of God from now on.

Today we had the visit of Shiva ”himself”. His rhythm was untouchable, slow and worthy. Knowing that he was the greatest, the most important, unmovable, totally in his being! He turned the tree into a Shakti, penetrating our daily working life as he penetrated here, the tree! Knowing and aware of his own strength, clear and on the target, Majestically biting, making everybody else to become equally aware – it was a celebration, it was the extended hand of God that suddenly manifested itself in our little box of sand!

Only a single karma yogi continued the work after nightfall. I have been put in the yard and forgotten there. I am laying half on one side. He is sitting on one of the iron bars, welding. He is wearing a mask. It is big shifts in my life. This physical activity in the daytime and in the night this silent, standing completely still, in contemplation. Everything breathes silence, deep silence after the working day. Everything is hurting in my body, but when I stand still completely in silent contemplation, when I truly see with my heart, then I don’t feel that I am a bucket, - that I have a body, - then I just reflect whatever comes. The welder sends cascades of sparks down over me. I am completely empty! Open! Still! Everything is breathing silence, only these sparks falling like stars in the night, like a silent Grace after a long day, - and I am filled without being filled, - my emptiness is filled of gratefulness, of a deep intimate peace, of God and of eternity. Only a single karma yogi continues his karma yoga after nightfall today...

Tara:

The glow of the welder is like a star in the night, like the star that leads – the completely white star, sharp and clear. Don’t look too long to it, it might hurt your eyes. But she is our guiding star.

The Captain:

Today I was on the scaffold on the fourth floor. The wind was blowing well and the men were out to take the ”sail” down:

A big presenning was too loose and had to be taken down. I could observe that they were nervous from being so high up in this storm. The scaffold was swaying, making noise of complain. But the Captain was firm and in control, - highly experienced: ”Hold this! No, don’t let it go! Now, tie this! No, I told you! Hold that one, stay still! No, stay still!” and got everything secured.

The sail stood full of the north wind and the ship had the direction on the river of Samsara towards the coast of higher consciousness: “Every man on board! Tighten the mainsail! Pull! Push! Come on! Cross over to the left! I demand a new course, my men! Ohøj! Ohøj! Hear me in the storm for we are all cool and in control. ”Ai! Ai! Captain!” The good ship TARA sails like a savouress quick and swift to our destination. Ai! Ai!  ”The Captains word is law!”

The good ship TARA stands still on the coast of the world! Even the captain is now resting. Silent stars and shooting stars in the night! Every double bed in the dormitory rolls with blood pulsating through the veins and the wind is quietly drawn through the tired coarse throats of the karma yogis. Thanks for today, you great God!

And the Whisper in the night says:

“There are days where my heart is open all day long and days where I am so contracted and inside myself. I have apparently forgotten who I am. These are the days with suffering. These are my days of suffering caused by my immense ignorance. Oh, TARA help me on those days! Yes, help me especially on these days, oh merciful and compassionate TARA? "

The carpet:

I accompany a hand all down to the gate near the road under the train. A man is beating the carpet that usually stays in the corridor between the staircase, main entrance and the reception. How many feet with their shoes on have this little carpet not received? And all the beatings it now most receives! Just to get clean? ”Any one is big in its place.” It is as if my consciousness is so expanded today so that I literally am experiencing the soul of this carpet and everyone that has put their feet there. I first of all experience the work and function of being carpet on this spot, on this very spot where it is and its conditions, its servings. I am very aware of being a carpet today! Nice and cleaned it returns to its karma yoga place,- to the humble receiving of the unconscious feet with shoes on, that once again will make it dirty, wear it out, in their quickly passing into the next....

The Crack:

Today I cracked. I can no longer be used for water. I am no longer proof.  The little space I held has suddenly become larger. I can now see out of my self, through my self, see beyond my self. My mind is about to let go. Now I only contain stones and mortar. Even among buckets there is a hierarchy. It has not come by without suffering and moments of despair. I have worked for my crack. My inner room is it half full or half empty? Is the space I have the same as the space outside? My subtle body is about to explode: ”Who am I? Who is this ”I”? When did it come? For what do I live and am I going to die? Who am I?” A Crack has come in my surface. I am no longer the same. In the outer world I am valued less, but my inner sings of happiness, of joy - the sweet song of mystery.

Even among buckets there is a hierarchy.  I am just a tool, a bucket, no, not even that. My inner space has now fused completely with the outer. With open mouth I have been standing night and day looking up, just looking up amazed about the big silent space. Seen the moon waxing and waning. Many a day I have seen the fire in the sky, the sun. First I thought the moon to be the heaven of buckets, but now I know it is the sun, it is the sun. There is a spark within me always shining that ever matched the sun. I know now it is the same. We are the same. That bucket, that glorious bucket will in due time come dawn for me o nits hook. That one can certainly contain us all. That one I know, is the mahagaleata. 

”If you did not have any thoughts, memories, emotions, associations or perceptions: Are you a bucket? Not a bucket? Or Neither? Watch the no-state state of the ”I am”!

Thus my story ends (and so do all the stories of all the tools, carpets, bricks and ropes) in the perfect no-state state of the ”I am”. Where Everybody is big in his place!

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