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My Kind of Town Don Chapman |
The sound of nothing
» Kaneohe
The second Lama Jey Tsong Khapa made the decision to leave disguises and subterfuge behind, to live publicly and normally as himself, knowing his life was at risk. Twice already, Te-Wu, the Chinese secret police, had attempted to assassinate the stand-in lama that Kamasami Khan and his Free Tibet Warrior Society brethren arranged. They knew Te-Wu would try again this afternoon at the scheduled meeting with Hawaii's religious leaders, the hit man disguised as a Muslim imam.
So the young lama, just days shy of his 19th birthday, fell into a meditation on nothingness, checking to see that he felt neither the ego's fear of death nor the egomaniacy that seeks martyrdom. The Chinese had already martyred 1.3 million Tibetans, many of them monks and nuns, and the torture, rape and murder continued on a daily basis. One more martyr would not matter. His only wish was to perpetuate the truth of Buddha's teachings, to live compassionately with no attachment to this world, and in so doing alleviate the suffering of all sentient beings.
A gentle voice, like music across water, floated into his consciousness. "My dear Jey..." He ended with a long "om," the sound of nothingness ringing in his ears.
Opening his eyes, he turned, saw Bodhicita Guzman, Tsong Khapa's eternal consort, coming to him across the lanai. He smiled. It's a good thing their relationship spanned eons and realms, for she was not nothing. Yet she could not be an attachment to this life. On one hand, it would be idyllic to remain in hiding with her, to spend days and nights relearning together the grace and ecstasy of tantric practice. On the other, there were still nights.
"It's time for Officer Ah Sun to go so he can escort your stand-in to the meeting," she said. "He'd like to say good-bye."
Fully coming out of his meditation, beyond Bodhicita he saw his motorcycle friend officer Quinn Ah Sun, his wife Lily, her maid-friend Rosalita and Khan.
He rose from his cross-legged position, walked to them with Bodhicita at his side, fingers brushing.
Quinn bowed from the waist, fingertips pressed together and touching his nose. The young lama returned the gesture.
"I've got to get moving, your holiness," Quinn said. "Khan and I talked it over, and while I would prefer to stay here, working with him to protect you, for today at least it's best that we make everything appear normal."
"A funny word, normal, don't you think?"
Nobody else had ever thought about it before.
"I would like to return to normal, return to being me."
It took a moment for his meaning to sink in.
"You can't be serious, your holiness?!" Khan blustered.
"Wrong question, friend Khan. Right question, how do we reverse the switcheroo?"
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Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek. His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin. He can be e-mailed at dchapman@midweek.com