My teacher lives in a bowl of water in a small garden. It’s totally ordinary. The water is living water. It is has a light-membrane that is dynamic. The surface of the water. The membrane; living, shining. Its strange mirror that collapses and reforms.

The movements of the earth and breeze disturb the shining membrane, upon which Light is dancing. It is this dancing that is my teacher. It obliterates my mind and becomes the most impossible kinds of eyes — blind in every way my others aren’t, and seeing all where no ordinary light intrudes, but where its spirit lives.

The bowl of water becomes my seeing, and I, am then… its vision. We are the iris and pupil of the sky. My iris lives in a bowl of water. You can see »living reflections there. It’s more than memory. I dissolve into the light, and finally, can start to see as seeing itself. This is a strange teacher. It’s totally ordinary.