Nirvana

Nirvana

a transcendent state in which there is neither suffering, desire, nor sense of self, and the subject is released from the effects of karma and the cycle of death and rebirth. It represents the final goal of Buddhism. (according to dictionary.com)

Shadow

Sometimes I don’t say much, I just observe. I look at people and I can’t help but envy them. They laugh, play, and simply exist. With little to no worries, no life-altering thoughts that keep them up at night. I can’t stop thinking of another life one without faces glued to phones and fake smiles. Some have decided that freedom would forever be their anthem, and they have escaped society to be one with themselves, out into the void. Free and raw in quiet solitude, I think my day will come when I will choose death, crawl into my shadow, and disappear.

I look at my poem thinking about my life, thinking about my complete despair and hopelessness. Today is 3 days after my birthday, the day my mother died. She wasn’t perfect, she was irresponsible and reckless, and worst of all a meth addict, but she was all I had. Of course, she had a lot of positive qualities as well. She was beautiful, she had hershey skin and black long dreads that went all the way down her back.

She was a talented artist and she would make beautiful paintings. She was passionate, and she loved me fiercely. I’m sure of it because her being the true free-spirit she was, would take off in her metaphorical hot air balloon and fly away from her family, friends, and lovers, but with me, she stayed. She took me in the hot air balloon with her, and we would fly away and have our own adventures together.

I always admired how she could fly away from anyone and everything, well everything besides meth. I had to share her with that dark horrible drug, and I honestly resented her a little for that.

She named me Indigo and told me that when I was a baby my eyes were the color of the sky, just like my father’s a white man and hippie surfer. However, through time my eyes changed to hazel, and my skin got some color, the color of sand if I had to compare it to something. I didn’t adopt my mom’s dreads, but I have curly brown, blondish, hair.

My mom would tell me she was the reincarnated Queen Calafia, a beautiful black moor and pagan that led an army of women, who ruled California before it was California. She told me that California was named after Queen Calafia, which is true according to Google. She was a true “wacky” black, Buddhist, hippie that never grew out of the 70’s like her friends.

But she did the best she could raising me. She would sprinkle fairy dust on the dark and sad times of our lives. When the lights would get cut off because she couldn’t hold a job, or sell enough paintings, she bought dollar tree glow in the dark sticks, and we would pretend we were in outer space. When we bounced from shelter to shelter, and couch to couch, she said that we were the gypsies of the universe, and we were completely free, and we didn’t belong to anyone.

When we didn’t have food sometimes, she would tell me, that the universe filled us with so much love and that we were superwomen, we didn’t need food we just needed each other. When my feet would hurt from standing all day because we would beg for money on the side of the street. She would give me a piggyback ride and skip, and she would tell me together we could fly.

She died three days after my fourteenth birthday, we were usually too poor to have birthday parties. But that birthday, she decorated my room with blow-up mermaids and told me I was the queen of the ocean. She told me that one day when she goes to the Wise One “God,” I’ll have to take her place as Queen Calafia. Looking back now, I know she wanted my birthday to be special because she knew she was dying.

She was sick all the time, during that time, constantly in and out of the hospital, and her curvy body became frail and all bones, her hershey skin became paler. She told me on her deathbed,

“karma is our only kryptonite sweet Indigo.”

I held her hand and asked her with tears in my eyes,

“how does karma not get me?”

She smiled weakly her eyes closed and said,

“Nirvana baby, Nirvana.”

After her death, I was placed in foster care, convinced that my mom and I were cursed gypsies, I traveled from place to place again without a real home. My only home was my mother. Once I aged out of the shelter, all I had was a thousand dollars from the government, two trash bags of clothes, and a dream, a dream to be a writer. I used to read my writings to my mother, and one day she told me,

“Your imagination is your special superpower. You can travel from place to place and hypnotize others. Your words are so good, you can bewitch people, just for them to wake up at the end like it was all a dream. You’re a dream-maker.”

But she was right, karma is our kryptonite, and her death and all of the foster homes, and all of our hard times caught up with me. Fast-forward seven years later, I became an alcoholic, I was always sad, and alcohol made me numb. And I needed to be numb, because I was only 22 and on food stamps, and worked at a local grocery store.

I stopped writing altogether, I stopped believing. I understood my mother the most when I was suffering in this way. When you are a broke and sad adult, drugs give you a world of magic instead of a world with pain. But she was wrong, I wasn't a gypsy, a queen, a mermaid, or a dream-maker. I was an alcoholic orphan. I asked her where my dad was plenty of times and she would say,

“he’s a pirate with no anchor baby, he travels the seas and he never comes to land.”

So who knows where the man is, and who cares, he didn’t stay. My mom wasn’t perfect but she stuck around. I can’t shake this endless loop of depressing thoughts, because I’m an old foster kid who never got adopted. I’m broke, and I’m sad.

I drink because, when I’m sober I’m too anxious. I’m constantly counting numbers in my head thinking of bills. I’m always thinking of ways to get out of this “labyrinth suffering,” with no family, no money, and no hope.

I take a deep breath, and I look at the picture that my mom painted for me before she died. It was a watercolor painting of the beach we would frequently visit.

When I was younger around 9 years old, I sat in front of her as she held me on the shore, and we felt the waves on our feet. The sun was going down, and I felt an energy surge as if the ocean had physically touched me. I told my mom,

“I just felt the ocean.”

She told me, “It’s because your Queen Calafia like me, never forget that.”

I start to sob thinking of that moment, and I jump in my bed. It’s not fair, what did I ever do to anyone? Why does addiction, sorrow and pain have to follow me? What is the point of living? What’s the freaking point if you have no one? I haven’t had a single boyfriend, I don’t have any friends. My father doesn’t even want me!

I’m just a waste, why am I still here? How can I become a writer? I have no money really and no help. My mom told me a bunch of meth-head lies! There is no such thing as Nirvana! This labyrinth curse can never be broken!

I cry while rocking myself to sleep, holding myself with my arms, because that is all I have. I feel myself getting more and more sleepy. I think to myself if there is a God, if there is any fairness in the universe, let me not wake up tomorrow. I doze off to sleep, with dried-up tears on my cheeks, and dried-up dreams that will never be.

The Wise Man

I wake up in a dark cave. Where am I? I think to myself. I get on my feet still in my pajamas. A dark feeling comes over me, I’ve been kidnapped! I run in the darkness, and suddenly I hit a wall. I fall back hard on my butt, but I don’t feel anything, that should’ve hurt? I must be dead? I jump up and down excitedly.

“Thank you universe!” I guess I’m in the void? Or maybe purgatory?

“You’re not dead,” I hear a calm voice say.

I jump at the sound. I turn around and see the Buddha, literally. He’s a short Asian man with an orangish robe and pale skin.

“Buddha?” I ask him.

He laughs, “I am he.”

I look at him with shock. He lights the place up, he has this white glowing aura around him. I can see wall after wall, almost as if I’m in a maze. I start to say,

“Am I in the labyrinth?”

“Yes, you are indeed in the labyrinth maze, the ancient symbol of transformation, the maze of suffering as you call it.” He smiles warmly at me.

“So I’m alive?” I ask him disappointedly.

“Yes…. right now you are awake, you humans have it backward, sleeping is living, sleeping is when we return to our true forms, and living is dreaming.” He laughs genuinely.

“I don’t understand,” I tell him.

“We are in charge of the dream world. You said you wanted to die, but that’s not what you want. You want love, you want companionship, you want to be a writer, you want answers about life.”

I sway back and forth,

“yeah…..”

I tell him softly.

“Well, you’re in luck I’m here to help you!” He chuckles again.

I’m mesmerized by him, he seems so peaceful and loving that I long to touch him.

He smiles at me, and I suddenly realize he can read my thoughts.

“I used to be like you,” he says,

“I was a rich king that wasn’t satisfied with my life, so I went searching for enlightenment. I gave up all of my material possessions, and I went to the streets to become a beggar. I saw all of the suffering and pain around me and I wondered what was the point of life as you do now.”

His stare becomes intense,

“I started meditating daily and eventually I reached Nirvana, by accepting the world for what it is, the good and the bad, the yin and yang, by simply going within, I was able to heal”

I laugh sarcastically,

“So that’s your big message to the meaning of life? Is going within going to pay my bills or bring my mom back?”

He smiles at me patiently, “No it won’t, but it will bring yourself back, your higher self.”

Suddenly the Buddha sends an image to me telepathically, it’s me at thirteen reading a short story I wrote out loud. My mom is on the couch pretending to be asleep but she is smiling at my words. After I finished reading, I smiled to myself, put my journal under my pillow, and went to sleep.

The Buddha looks at me emphatically,

“What happened to that girl?” he asks.

“Life.” I somberly reply.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret that innocent little girl is still inside you. The little girl that was free, and happy, the little girl that wasn’t scared to dream.”

“How do I get her back?” I ask him.

He smiles lovingly, “let me show you.”

He sits down and crosses his legs and motions for me to follow him. I mirror him, I sit down and copy his stance, my back straight like him. He tells me,

“I am going to show you how to go within. Close your eyes and breathe deeply thinking about the despair in your life to heal we need to feel.”

I close my eyes and a series of images come to my head. My mom and I on hungry nights, with us going to sleep with pounding headaches. Me throwing her ashes into the ocean sobbing. Me at work during lunch, looking at my coworkers laughing and talking just for me to eat outside with my book.

Me looking at the cute boy in my apartment complex walking his dog longing to talk to him. Me drinking on the couch watching television. Me trying to think of something to write in my notebook, just to close it in frustration. Me collecting change for my light bill. Me watching myself throw up from drinking too much. The final image of me crying at night in my bed, holding myself, silently cursing my mom for dying, for leaving me.

I look up at the Buddha ashamed that he saw my pathetic and depressing life.

However, he looks and me lovingly and says,

“My dear you are creating your own hell on earth, you tell yourself that there is no hope for the future, wanting to die. You are so focused on the negative, you are forgetting to be grateful. Grateful for life, grateful for a job, grateful for a bed to sleep in. Instead, you sit on the couch and drink your blessings away.”

He sighs with frustration, “let me show you what I have seen.”

He shows me images of starving children all across the world, senseless brutality, people in jail for crimes they didn’t commit, murdered slaves across the world, along with their tormented lives, sexual violence upon innocent children, child brides getting married to older men, and so many more horrible images.

I start sobbing,

“stop!" I plead to him.

“It’s too much, it’s all too much.”

He looks at me empathetically,

“I’m sorry I had to show you that, but hopefully you can now see your life is a gift. You want to get to Nirvana right? Let go of all of the pain, and go to the place where you are happiest, where your inner child survived, go to that place, and find peace.”

I take a deep breath and think of the day my mom and I were at the beach. I think of me at my age now standing next, to the little girl I was. I hold her hand and we run into the ocean together, right before we go under the waves I’m brought back to reality. I look at the Buddha smiling.

“I feel so peaceful,” I tell him. He says,

“You were wrong my dear Nirvana is real, but there is no shortcut, the only way out of the labyrinth suffering is through.”

The Buddha and I both stand, he hugs me, it feels like a kiss from the universe. I feel ultimate peace, ultimate unconditional love.

He tells me in his embrace,

“Be strong Indigo, the next person you see will not be easy to conquer, be brave, fear is our biggest vibration killer. Focus on love focus on peace.”

He lets me go and then disappears into the darkness.

Shadow Girl

I smile to myself thinking of the Buddha, and then I instantly get anxious thinking of what’s to come. Who am I going to see next, the devil? Who could be so bad that the wisest man on earth said I need to prepare for them? I take a deep breath and think to myself have courage.

I walk in the darkness of the cave, putting one foot over another, nervous but ready for what is to come. I walk for a while, and I think to myself maybe no one is coming? This is just a dream after all. I stop my steps, and I think of trying to wake myself up, and then all of the sudden I hear a voice, a voice that sounds just like me…

“Congrats Indigo your halfway through the cave.”

The voice gives me chills.

“Who are you?” I demand.

“Why do you sound like me?” I ask.

Suddenly a dark figure is shown, it’s an outline of me.

“I am you, I’m shadow girl.” the figure says.

I look at the shadow in confusion.

“It’s quite simple.” She says circling me.

A dark feeling of dread comes over me as she moves.

“Everyone has a dark side a shadow side. I’m a part of you, your darkness. You are a weak cowardly person. You have no friends, no one who wants to be with you, and even your mother couldn’t stick around.”

“Shut up,” I say angrily.

All of a sudden shadow girl is growing in size.

“You are so pathetic! You’re broke, and you think you’re talented enough to be a writer, you’re a waste of space just kill yourself like you were going to do!”

Suddenly a knife appears in my hand. I think about all of my dark times, all of the times I thought about ending my life. I inch the knife closer to me, thinking to myself my shadow is right, it would be better if I was gone.

She is getting even bigger now, her shadow is almost touching the roof of the cave.

I feel so weak, her energy is so strong, I inch the knife closer to me.

Shadow girl laughs evilly, “do it, join me forever.”

Suddenly the Buddhas’ voice comes to me.

My dear, you have created your own hell.

I suddenly think about all of the times I let shadow girl win. Of when I isolated myself from my co-workers. All of the times my cute neighbor waved to me, and how I never said hi. I think of how many times I bought alcohol knowing how sick it would make me. I thought about how many times I opened my notebook to write just to close it. I thought about how many times I became infuriated with my mother.

Without thinking about the times when she would buy me food before her. Or how she would light up when I read her my stories. How she would cry to me saying she was sorry she couldn’t stop using, how she wanted help. How when I would cry she would hold me until I fell asleep.

I thought of the Buddha's words again.

Fear is our biggest vibration killer. Focus on love, focus on peace.

I throw the knife down, and yell,

“I’m not scared of you!”

Shadow girl starts decreasing in size.

“Yes, you are.” She says with panic.

“No, I’m not! I’ve been letting you win too long! I never needed you! I’m not scared of you anymore!”

Shadow girl gets smaller, and smaller, she’s about three inches above the ground before she says,

“I’m always going to be a part of you, I will always be your darkness, you can’t ever get rid of me, you know.”

I look at her without and fear and say,

“I know but you don’t have to control me anymore!”

With that, she disappears into the ground.

I smile to myself and take a deep breath. I continue walking in the cave with confidence, ready to move on.

Queen Calafia

I knew I was near the end of the cave, I saw a glorious light coming from the end, I walk faster with anticipation.

“Indigo!” I turn around with excitement knowing the voice calling for me all too well.

Standing in front of me was my beautiful mother looking young and healthy. She was in a white dress and was glowing with a white aura around her. She had a crown of white crystals on her head. Her dreads were long and wild just as I remembered. She was smiling reaching out her arms for me.

I ran to her as if I was a small child again, she embraced me as I sobbed.

“Mom I’ve missed you so much.”

She looks at me and says,

“Sweet Indigo I’ve missed you too, I’m so sorry for everything for how much pain I’ve caused you.”

I look at her with tearful eyes and say,

“I forgive you. I’m just glad you’re here now.”

She gets out of my embrace and tells me,

“You have always been the chosen one, the best part of me. You are going to be the one to break the curse. The one to break a lifetime of family pain, karma, trauma, and grief.”

All of a sudden a series of images are sent to me. Me throwing away my filled alcohol bottles. Me getting to know my coworkers and becoming friends with them. Me getting a promotion at my job. Me being able to afford a laptop and publishing my books. Me doing a book signing in a crowded bookstore with excited fans.

Me getting a call that I’m a best-seller. Me gathering up the courage to talk to my cute next-door neighbor, us developing a loving relationship, getting married on the beach, and having two kids a boy and a girl. Me taking my daughter to the beach, holding her while she looks at the ocean.

My mom kisses my forehead.

“You have so much to live for sweet Indigo, never forget that, now go get Nirvana.”

She puts her crown on my head and bows down to me.

I tell her,

“Mom come with me.”

She says,

“Don’t worry sweet Indigo when it is your time for the afterlife, we’ll have so many adventures again, we’ll go to the moon, but this is something you must do on your own.”

A tear falls down my cheek.

“I love you so much, mom.”

She smiles at me lovingly and says,

“I love you Indigo in every lifetime, in a world of the sun and a world of the stars, in every dimension always.”

I watch my mom disappear, and I start making my way towards the end of the cave, towards the light.

I eventually end up at a beautiful beach with translucent colors, the ocean water crystal clear.

Suddenly my pajamas turn into a white gown. I smile to myself thinking of my life thinking about how Buddha said this is our dream world, about how I was no longer going to let darkness control me. We all have a shadow girl or shadow boy within us, telling us lies, twisting, and turning our dream world, but insecurities and fears kill our souls.

As warriors of the universe, we have to conquer the shadow within and accept that death, pain, sadness, and loneliness are a part of life, but as long as we are here and alive we have the chance to make this dream world heaven on earth, true nirvana.

I hold the crystal crown on my head and pull up my long white dress above my feet. I run to the beautiful ocean without fear, and pain, hopeful for my tomorrow, for what is to come for my life.

I dive into the waves, and then I rise up, raising my arms to the sky. I look at the sunset and watch it with awe, thinking how endings can be beautiful too. I think how the sunset symbolizes the rebirth of me, Indigo, the reincarnated Queen Calafia, like my mom.

I wake up suddenly, I see the sun coming up from my window. I sit up in my bed smiling to myself, Nirvana is real after all, I had broken the labyrinth curse.

I was free.