XXXI. Visualizing the Floating Flower School in The Pureland

Visualizing the floating flower school in the pureland, there is no roof, only two columns. No rooms, no limitations. The flowers have disintegrated their notions of birth and death and have stopped their growing. Now suspended, now blissful and permanent, and with no restraints, blotting out the sky so that no honourable potential Tathagata need harm a living thing as they go about, still ignorant in their practice. No more distractions within Amidas Pureland, ignorance that is still abounded in, becomes prajna. Amida sits on a golden lotus throne before his innumerable disciples, who deep in study on the floating flower, blot out the land, innumerable and indistinguishable aside from their spectrum. Two empty thrones lay before him, one before him for those who say his name with space for all sentience on a single lotus petal. Unfurling, the other to his left, reserved for Maitreya, the future Buddha, who is somewhere among these disciples, somewhere stuck in samsara, who has space for all in a single lotus petal. Kannons thousand arms reach out from behind, to massage all those engaged in the most serious of practice, always working, he, she, beast, hungry ghost, need not a throne for the Bodhisattva’s many appearances, touches any practitioner who asks, and carries them onto the throne before Amida to await his test. Can you pull down every flower with a single movement? Any physical attempt transforms the school into every stick, spear or rock hurled by Maras Army and come tumbling down. Has the test been passed? There are no more flowers, just a suspicion that they will return. Buried, and digging out of this distraction serves the developing practitioner better than any sutra, and Amida sits silent, never confirming or denying the results of his test. The flowers returning, but they never vanished before Amidas grace, all transcend the pureland entirely, coming and going simultaneously one. No rooms to stay, no vacancy abroad. This fluttering only emulates the spectrum, and I feel the weight of every rock striking down the temple.

Namu Amida Butsu x 10

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