A Pilgrimage to Kailash

This diary tells a cosmotheandric story from a small human standpoint. It is a personal story, but it also counts as an archetype. It is a beat in the cosmic symphony we have played probably unconsciously.

For many years we have walked alone, each along our separate paths. During these nine years , you first followed me, then I took your hand , and very soon you will walk alone because I will be no longer visible, I will be in you- and this Spirit that gives me Life will continue to blow through you.

During this break we relived the pilgrimage we walked. Now that we have reached the peak, all we can see is an infinite horizon, under a sky lit up by a sunset filled not with the expectation of future dawn but only with the beauty of the present . The path has come to an end. We can only look up – but then we would hear the same reprimand by the angels that those men of Galilee heard. So all we can do is fly.

Our Fullness is “empty”, it will never be filled. It will never be filled. It is after the end that life starts; it is after the death of the ego that resurrection comes. Why postpone eternal Life , real Life, until the future or another life?

Resurrected life is neither a dream nor a utopia. The risen Christ speaks, eats and shows the same body he had before. Resurrected life is not a disembodies existence nor, still worse, “dehumanized” by theoretical perfection. The “realized person” , if you prefer this world to “resurrected”, is not an angel but a person who lives in full consciousness of the three dimensions of reality: human, cosmic , and divine.

These narratives could be read like the search for the Grail, that is to say for incarnate Love, the incarnate God, concrete Life in its Fullness- a fullness that is relative , of course , to our own capacity , but fullness nevertheless. “And of his Fullness we have all received” , says the Prologue of Saint John.

A formal prologue should explain what a book wants to express with. Out saying it. It is not for me to do this . If one day these pages are read the reader must understand that the “unsaid” is more important than the ”Said” (as is always the case , indeed) , not because something has been hidden but because reality is ineffable and cannot be exhausted by words.

This preface to the narrative of what happened is the introduction to the present experiences of what is.

My tale is the simple story of ‘yes’. Yes to the flow of life that suddenly overflows and by which I confidently let myself be led all the way to this unhoped for pilgrimage, a symbol of birth into a new life.

May me babbling communicating joy and trust in Life, which is the wonderful gift we receive so that we may pass it on as best we can.

May a simple “Thanks” express my gratitude to he who guided me along the path with so much love, helping me to discover that the goal lies at all times in the moment of the step you are taking.

Another ten years have passed. We have gone back over the stages of your life by reading your diaries, which you wanted me to comment on, perhaps in the awareness that your life on this earth is drawing to a close.

You asked me to add the last page as a third part of the book, to complete the story that otherwise would have been left incomplete.

Our dialogue has come to an end with the conclusion of your life. I have decided to quote your last words so as to share with the reader thee testimony of a human life lived out in its fullness.