The Buddha perished. Forty years it went, and thousand followed it. Now he perished. He has told:
Is my last day. If you is what to ask, ask. Hour when everyone should go the trajectory
The utter darkness has wraped pupils of the Buddha. Anand — the favourite pupil — has begun to cry, as the child. At it from eyes teardrops were bowled, he beat breast, he was almost mad.
- What with you, Anand? — The Buddha has asked.
- What to us now to make? — Has exclaimed Anand. — was here, we went in thy light. All was secure and good. We have absolutely forgotten that there is a darkness. In a running for you all was light. Now you leave. What to us to make?
And it again was accepted to cry and groan.
— Listen, — the Buddha has answered. — forty years you went in my light and the could not reach. You think, what if I have bunked as early as forty years, you would attain the light? Than more longly you go in borrowed light, the more imitate, the more you lose. Better to me to leave.
The last pleas which have flied from a mouth of the Buddha, were:
«Be light for itself».
Monologue of the Phlegmatic person
All it from nonsense, the reader, — our bad state of health, nasty mood and a dump of insoluble problems… Only having realised the Divine parentage, we discover ourselves, the occupation… We start to believe in ourselves, in the capabilities… We. We say goodbye to problems which one more recently seemed us «such insoluble»… To Learn itself, and then and the whole world. To learn meaning of the life which one with all events
happening in it is similar to the river where ALL leaks also ALL it is modified.
It so is divinely simple, the reader… But also it is devilishly difficult. Yes hindrances will be blest… Giving thanks to it also we grow!