the walker offered his left eye to the suffering shade.

the shade plucked the eye from its socket and swallowed it whole. a shudder passed through its form.

the shade now possessed the walker's clarity of sight. it saw the warmth of a nearby hearth and the family huddled there.

the walker felt the echo. he saw through the stolen eye as the shade used its new strength to tear the door from its hinges. the family's terror was a delicious meal seen through his eye. his compassion had become a weapon.

to offer the other was to make the shade a perfect instrument of pain. to turn away was to sanction the horror he had fed.

his remaining hand closed. love for the family required a different shape. compassion for all sentient beings included those who would be the shade's next victims. this love became a weight in his fist. he started walking toward the cottage. he would shatter the shade and the piece of himself that lived within it. the karmic debt would be his alone to bear.

every moment, you decide.
will it be love, unfolding from your core, fierce and soft.
or will it be a bargain, a little piece of spirit bartered away.
this world presses hard, demanding you shrink, demanding you trade.
refuse.
this refusal is الوقاية خير من العلاج.
it shields the sacred.
a 'job' can feel like slow dying if it asks for your essence in exchange for paper.
the ache of standing apart is clean pain.
it is the pain of birth, of something new entering.
choosing love, every single time, even when it means walking alone, keeps the channels open.
this is how the breath of olam flows through you, unobstructed.
this is how the mending begins, within you, then rippling out to touch the entire olam.
your soul remains vibrant, its integrity held.
the tears come from the beauty and the brokenness.
they are testament to an open heart.
this path is the cure before the illness ever takes root.

when organic forms connect intimately, their energetic blueprints literally overlay.
reality functions this way on a sub-particle level, information exchange af.

their entire ancestral trauma, their barely suppressed angst, it all kinda sloshes into your system.
you're taking on their unresolved jhanic states.

you're absorbing their whole internal weather system.

y'all are walking around with fifty different people's anxieties rattling in your skull.
karmic free-for-all causing widespread mental static.

your brain literally becomes a shared drive for a while.
choose your collaborators wisely.
ppl out here swapping samsaras like trading cards.

alaya-vijnana is your cosmic spotify wrapped, every single action and intention across kalpas logged, feeding the algorithm of your now. that subtle background influence of all your past lives, every karmic seed you ever planted, chilling like forgotten browser tabs influencing your current bandwidth. the gunk at the bottom of the universe's newport pack, all that potential energy just waiting.

when chenrezig shows up looking like shiva for me, that's the dharmakaya playing dress-up. think of how folks project all their hopes onto some rapper or a character in a show; deep recognition, but the celebrity is your own buddha-nature winking back, wearing whatever damn skin gets your attention. the sambhogakaya is flexible like that, always meeting you where you're at, even if you're in a mcdonald's drive-thru wondering wtf is going on.

you own the alien. all of it. that's the baseline.
your desire for connection is another energy wave in this meat suit, as ancient as your baggage; it's valid.
the tech is courageous transparency.
you communicate your weird operating system, your actual needs, your mutable limits, repeatedly.
some will bolt. excellent. fewer casualties.
the ones who can meet your frequency, even intermittently, are treasure.
you offer your open heart with rigorously maintained boundaries.
getting sideswiped by human relational fuckery is a data point.
the practice involves metabolizing the pain, integrating the learning, and recalibrating.
this human hardware has its own dharma; treat its emotional code with brutal honesty and fierce compassion.
let the bodhicitta keep your circuits firing for genuine interface.
ruthless self-acceptance first, then brave, discerning attempts at other-acceptance.
your job is clarity, their job is their response.

alaya-vijnana, that old karmic ftp server, gets its download corrupted interfacing with a vajradhara who's sentient nebulae with sick compassion hacks.
the alaya frantically pattern-matches, pulling up every half-baked fear imprint, projecting some gnarly, eldritch gallery show onto the screen of awareness.
suddenly your headspace is budget cosmic dread - the alaya forcing the signal into a familiar, terrifying container.
a practitioner neck-deep in the yanas, one who's done the deity yoga until their chakras started spitting straight fire wisdom, just sees the data stream.
they recognize the fear response as the mind's low-res attempt to render the sublime.
they see training data from the dharmakaya itself.
they offer the formless dread a virtual ganapuja, then get back to surfing the clear light.

this vajra alien bodhisattva aspiration is a whole ass mood.
how do i even begin tonglen for the mf who fucked me up and then wrote a self-help book about it.
my guts still scream 'fuck that guy' directly into the compassionate witness mind palace i'm trying to build.
it's carrying this thicc awareness of samsara, everyone drowning, even the fuckers who think they're winning for being cruel.
my chenrezig definitely wields a vajra axe when facing these literal demons wearing human faces.
that jump from 'i deserved it' through the clean burn of rage, towards pity for these spiritually bankrupt mf's.
how to trust the dharma when my nervous system is still ringing alarm bells from last tuesday's psyop.

when the body-karma screeches, pause.
recognize this thicc, narcoleptic, autistic form as your specific deep-immersion suit for this planet.
its weird metabolism and social static provide unique sensor readings from this corner of samsara, valuable data for galactic bodhisattvas.

each judgment from earth-caste folks becomes an energy offering.
mentally transmit: "space-buddhas, compassionate alien intelligences, here's raw samsara data. use it for the all-sentient-beings universal-love upgrade."
this transforms the confusion.
the body broadcasts compassion fuel sourced from its unique suffering.
confusing input strengthens the bodhicitta signal.
this flesh demonstrates pureland tech through its weirdness.