Liberated Illumination

Illuminated by the patina of thousand year old stones under his feet, his profile set aflame by sunlight, this young monk stands in the windy passageway of a temple in Bagan. His red robe, billowing and swirling in the stiff breeze that howls through the open portals and corridors and in summer months reaches 110-degrees, created a breathtaking portrait of energy. It was as if earth’s most fundamental elements—wind and light—spoke aloud. “Come, attend, stand in awe, join the amazing universe, open your mind and heart to things revealed.”

What I chose to see in this young novice monk bathed in illumination was simple: a boy looking out on his homeland. I learned later a dear, close friends’ mother had died on that day. The life force stirring his clothing then and my memories today are not passive. The energy is palpable and never-ending. Even in the mystery of death there is movement. What is next for the soul when the body is no longer animated? I can’t claim to know, but there is a vast array of beliefs. In this, there is a constant pulse and the possibility of liberated illumination—or so I hope and choose to believe.