Anyone knows how many books there are in the world on the subject of awakening and so little time. People buy books with no intention of reading them. Maybe they feel less guilty if they at least have a good intention. Whatever.
When the series of strokes began to hit Peter, I don’t imagine books would have done him any good. As for teachers, I know he liked the words of Ramana and Robert Adams.
But at the time that he and I were writing each other, books were not what turned him on. It was his cats and the robins running across his yard. I try to look at robins the way he did, but I have not succeeded in getting excited about them. Maybe because one in particular likes to poop on my rearview mirror. Anyhoo.
Waking up is something so simple as to be overlooked. It is blindingly obvious that we are who we are and that we pretend to be otherwise.
That’s it in a nutshell, folks.
Peter is up there somewhere laughing his hearty “ho ho.”
The stream gurgled, burbled and leapt.
The cats pawed their prey and
the tall grasses bowed at a man
intent on laughter.