The Tracks of the Beast

Innumerable footprints has he seen in the forest

and along the water's edge.

          Over yonder does he see the trampled grass?

Even the deepest gorges of the topmost mountains

can't hide this Ox's nose which reaches right to heaven.

Through the sutras and teachings he discerns the tracks of the Ox. (He has been informed that just as different-shaped golden vessels are all basically of the same gold, so each and every thing is a manifestation of the Self. But he is unable to distinguish good from evil, truth from falsity. He has not actually entered the gate, but he sees in a tentative way the tracks of the Ox.

Translation by Philip Kapleau.

Last night,  I had a dream.   It was in bright color and 3-dimensional detail.   First,  I was taking a photo of waves cresting and I could see the white froth on the tips as well as the tunnel-like hollow that was underneath.   It was an aquamarine-teal hue I've never seen before.   There was an opening,  an invitation in the midst of this wave's fury to go where it might be dangerous,  where there may be a strong undertow  and yet its beauty was such that I wouldn't have thought twice about entering.     In the next segment of the dream,   I see a "beast" ...  more like a giant shrew,  with a pointed snout,  white glistening fur,  on top of a large boulder that is in the middle of the ocean where I have just photographed the waves.  It is peering around in a sneaky fashion,  almost predatorial,  and I can't take my eyes off of it.  It takes a giant leap off of the rock and over a huge portion of the sea and right onto the sand.   People run.   It moves in a calculated way,  a few steps at a time,  eyes darting.   It comes within inches of me and I stare at it,  both of our eyes trying not to blink.   The beast's one eye is so deep brown and tender that I am softened in its presence and am no longer afraid.   And suddenly,  it disappears out of view.   At this moment,  I am joined by a woman I vaguely remember from my past and we are looking at the sky and there are 3 enormous,  colorful hot air balloons that have been launched from some contraption and are above us.   There are the sounds of people laughing and cheering up in the heavens.   While 2 of the balloons stay floating among the clouds,  one balloon turns completely upside down and plummets directly to the ground.   Small children exit the balloon,  unharmed by appearance,  and walk in another direction,  not responding to our inquiries about them needing help.   I wake up.

And then I read this interpretation above when I rise this morning and my jaw drops open,  silently stunned,  because of what I experienced in the dream.    If everything is a manifestation of the Self,   there is much material to work with right here:

- The waves.   In non-dual speak,  this could refer to Chesed -- flow,  loving-kindness.   There is great beauty I see and I want to photograph it yet I cannot fully claim it.   There is an invitation to claim my beauty and it feels unreal -- perhaps why I can only capture it in a picture.   Do I trust my ability to be loving and kind fully?  Or does it feel like it cannot be sustained and will crash like the wave -- which reveals the other part of me --  my wild, raging anger.  Which can swallow and pull me and others under with its force.  And it is all part of the continuum of what flows through me.   The calm in a wave is what is underneath the crest,  the tunnel I saw that was so inviting ... can I bear my fury so I can also appreciate my quiet beauty ?

- The unsightly shrew-Beast.  It is hard to look at and yet,  I cannot NOT take it in.  I feel my own shadow-Self,  my ugly, messy Self in this shrew.  Sometimes unpredictable and sometimes purposeful.  I didn't want to know this part of me for a very long time.  Hidden in a dark cave of my being.  Never to be exposed for fear that I would be left alone.  I am willing to own this part of me from the dream,  the beast's deep brown eye was my own looking at me and my heart softened.   I can be tender toward this shrew-Beast,  that is me.

-The hot air balloons.   Colorful.  Imaginative.  Eye-catching.  Wanting to be up above everything and everyone and be admired and awed.  The sounds of laughing and cheering fuel my flight.  This feels symbolic of my ego, my pride.  It is also the facade and appearance I wanted you to see -- the one in me who wants to be pleasing.   Someone is there from my past watching this over-the-top me who people saw back then.   One balloon takes a nose-dive.  Is this a wake up call for humility ?   The small children exit the balloon without injury.  The little ones in me CAN survive my small Self,   the one who craves attention and doesn't want you to leave her,  being brought down to earth,  to be grounded,  to perhaps even be shattered.   This scene feels like a healing. 

Seeing all these tracks of the beast that is me are not unsettling.   I want to follow them.