Mara’s next move was a sandstorm. “He’s getting desperate,” I remember thinking to myself. “If fiery mountains didn’t scare me, I’m not sure why he thinks a sandstorm is going to.” I quickly turned the sand into (what else?) flowers. Then Mara tried mud. “Mud?” I remember musing. “Mara thinks he can destroy me with mud?” To be fair, it was flaming mud, which was slightly disconcerting because, well, it didn’t make sense to me. “How can ‘flaming mud’ even exist?” I remember thinking. “It’s an oxymoron.” No matter though, I turned the flaming mud into sweet-smelling ointments.
Mara’s last move was fog, which I felt was frankly embarrassing because how do you kill someone with fog? “Mara’s sense of rhythm is atrocious,” I remember thinking at the time. “He should have started with fog, then built up to volcanos, not vice versa.” Finally, sputtering with rage, Mara charged me on his giant elephant and screamed, “Get up from under that Bodhi tree, sage, that is MY spot!” This comment irked me. For the first time, I opened my eyes and looked straight back at him. “You are sadly mistaken, Mara, this spot is not yours, this spot is mine.” His eyes flashing with fury, Mara hurled a razor-edged disc at my head. Did he not realize by this time that I would instantly turn it into flowers, which would then hover prettily over my head? If he didn’t, he should have, because that is exactly what I did. In heaven, where the gods had by now regathered after previously running away, they all craned their necks for a better view and someone cried out, “Has Siddhartha’s handsome body been harmed?” Of course it hadn’t been harmed in the least and I honestly have no idea why they thought that. (NK)
At that point I pointed down at the earth and demanded, “Are you or are you not my witness?” and the earth responded with a giant series of echoes, as if to say, “I AM your witness, Exalted One!” That seemed to do it. Hearing these mighty echoes, Mara’s demons sprinted off in a tizzy, some of them stripping off their clothes and shrieking in terror as they dashed away. The cheer “Mara is defeated, Siddhartha has triumphed, let us now serenade him!” went up in heaven. Shortly thereafter, a bunch of gods marched towards my tree, singing, “Hooray for the illustrious Buddha! Farewell to the evil Mara!” They all threw flowers at me but honestly, flowers were about the last thing I needed at that point, I was half-buried in flowers. A few of them dumped fancy powders and ointments on me, which I liked a bit better. Some of the gods waved banners reading, “HOORAY FOR THE BUDDHA!” which I did like. Overall, it was a moment of unlimited glory and splendor, never to be forgotten. (NK)
8
After the gods departed, I sat in silence for a long moment, unsure what would happen next. Then, in a flash, and for the very first time, I remembered all of my previous lifetimes, stretching backwards over many “kalpas.” (ASV 14:4) What is a kalpa, you ask? Imagine an enormous, rocky mountain. Now imagine a small bird landing on that rocky mountain once every hundred years with silk shoes on its tiny little feet. A kalpa is how long it would take that little bird to wear that rocky mountain down to nothing with its silk shoes. (SY 15:5) This is to say that a kalpa is essentially “infinity.” I will refer to other significant past lives later in my story but for now it will suffice to describe the following highly meaningful one.
Once I had been a rabbit. Not just any rabbit, though; I had been a marvelously strong, kind and wise rabbit. I was so wise, in fact, that all the other animals in the forest elected me as their king. I was also such a magnanimous rabbit that I literally sacrificed my life simply so that I might be eaten. (The moment I decided to sacrifice myself, by the way, three things happened: (1) There was a massive earthquake; (2) Heavenly music played; (3) I was showered with pollen.)
After I made the decision to sacrifice myself, I instantly hopped into Brahma’s fire and cooked myself. Did the flames hurt? No, they did not, they felt cool and refreshing, in fact. After I was cooked, Brahma escorted me up to heaven. (Brahma’s hands, for those who are curious, were milky-white, very soft and covered with rings; they were, in short, exquisite.) In heaven, Brahma informed the other gods of my profound sacrifice, built some statues of me and then, rather remarkably, drew a picture of me on the moon! This drawing of rabbit-me on the moon is, in some sense, one of the great wonders of the universe. Anyway, that’s the kind of being I was, a rabbit who ends up with his image on the moon because of his vast generosity and bottomless compassion. (I don’t remember, by the way, whether Brahma actually ate me, but I think he did and I presume that I tasted utterly delicious.) (HJAT)
At that moment, after all my endless searching, awakening finally occurred. Like a flash of lightning, insight came. (ANG 5:146) Life was pain … of course life was pain … and there was literally no way to avoid that pain … except one.
Stop life. (ASV 14:56; SY 12:65) “For where there is no life,” I whispered to myself, “there can be no death!” By undoing the cord, I suddenly grasped, one could achieve the true goal of existence: Non-existence.
The final veils of ignorance dropped away at
