Sophie knew it.
She had prepared the path for what she was about to experience that day.
All these imbroglios straight out of Zen stories,
all the entangled koans commentaries,
the meticulous and fussy way of the japanese traditions,
the dusty roads of Ch’an stretching their confusion from ancient China to Western modernity…
Rhetorical habits repeated from never-ending times were swirling in her mind, carrying a nauseous scent she had no choice but to deal with.
Again, she felt trapped in a children game…the same kind of game as those which had held her hostage so many times along the past.
At this very moment, she still ignored that all this repeated weariness was actually a sign of spiritual maturity.
She was ready for the big shift.
In a roll, she got ready to topple through the various traditions,
within the profound skies which underpins them all.
Maybe she would still keep using the nets some of these schools provide,
the same way we use metaphors to deliver a story.
She perfectly knew the experience had strictly nothing to do with the words used to relate it, or with the instructions given to prepare listeners ahead of the real-life thing.