Instant enlightment

Today I sat down to meditate. And instantly, I was enlightened.

At least, that’s what the Buddha said.

He said it clearly. He said: “You are enlightened.” He also said he was the Buddha.

“You’re not enlightened,” said a voice. “And he’s not the Buddha. At best, he’s a Buddha, but not the Buddha.”

“Every Buddha is the Buddha,” said the Buddha. “I am the Buddha. You are the Buddha. They are the Budha. There are no separate Buddhas.”

“True,” said another Buddha, who was the same Buddha.

“Yes,” agreed yet another, and yet the same.

“You are enlightened,” repeated the first Buddha, who was also the last Buddha and every Buddha, and who had not repeated because, for the Buddha, there is no time for repetition, but only now.

“Maybe I am enlightened,” I thought because I thought I was enlightened.

And then I was definitely not enlightened because I was thinking, not being.

I stopped thinking.

“You are enlightened,” repeated the first and only and always Buddha for the first and last and every time, which does not exist.

I stopped, and I looked up from what seemed to be a keyboard where the Buddha seemed to have been moving what seemed to be the fingers of what seemed to be a hand and seemed to be making letters seem to appear on what seemed to be a screen.

I stopped again for the first time.

And the fingers were not moving, and the letters had already appeared.

And then the fingers were moving again, and not moving, and moving.

“You are all enlightened,” said every Buddha who was all Buddhas to every reader who was all readers.

“Holy shit!” said a reader. “I’m enlightened.”

The reader said, “Holy shit!” on behalf of all readers, because there is only one reader, and it is the same as the writer. The reader said, “I am enlightened,” because all readers are enlightened.

At least all readers of this blog.

“Holy shit!” all Readers repeated for the first time. “We’re enlightened.”

And so we were.

Are.

Were.

Are.