Wednesday, December 21, 2011

losing the religion

what to say, its all deception delusion and deceit, nothing is true, everything is false. i know this in my heart and i cant move past it. i want to believe in something, but its all bullshit. whats the solution? just say f it all and keep moving. im unsure of what to do or how to do it. nothing is valid. i can do anything, especially die, and beyond that there is no truth to any action. the results are as meaningless as the action. im alone now, the world is empty for me, the whole family, work, possessions all dissipated and pale. im stretched across the continents and living a lie. i want to be real. thats the truth, but the old definitions dont work.maybe a few weeks in india will fix it. not likely, this is like a vacation paradise, not a spiritual retreat. the supposed giving up of preferences is still high luxury for any poor indian, we live like pashas and sleep on feather pillows served  pate de foi grois and excellent bottles of the finest vintage compared to the people on the streets. what we are doing is playing, there is no reality so we may as well just do make believe cause the truth isnt there. maybe its my fever and cold right now but its all so untrue i cant get into the whole scene.

Monday, December 19, 2011

black coffee musceli, fruit and curd

the prison fare at the local cafe, inmates welcome sign on the door as the latest and greatest guru ji comes to town and threatens to shut down all traffic in all directions as hundreds of thousands of brown and white devotees flock in multi colored garland bedecked buses from everywhere around the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu. i knew trouble was coming when i saw wooden poles with three foot fluorescent light bars lining both sides of the road around his temple worship spot last night, lighting the usually dark road into brilliant highlight, making it almost impossible to see the stark squalor behind the lights. this morning police and orange robed devotees filled the grandiose portico drenched in hanging ginger blossoms  sadhus began collecting expecting a generous crowd. the usually quiet tiruvanammalai road that goes round Mount Arunachala will be once again dangerous to navigate as hundreds of mammoth buses fill the roads forcing traffic to screech and twist to allow them passage, like a bull elephant among pygmy warriors. all gives way to the mighty bus. the air is heavy with moisture and seems almost coastal though we are hundred kilometers from the bay of bengal. i am wearing my only longsleeved shirt this morning in deference to the chill especially as i take my scooter through the streets at early 7am. the life in india seems to be such a passion for contrast with the US. the ox carts and ox plows in the fields, the uniformed schoolchildren filling the streets at 2:30 in such an outburst of energy and delight. all the patient and stoic people of the village, sitting in the shade and moving slowly, barefoot on the streets. the quiet knowing suffering of the population, without money or possesions, the old sadhus, who stare at the mountain all day,   they have a serenity and a sense of  place and purpose in their hearts, nothing changes here and once you have grown into your place it is yours and you are it. this is the fate of india. all is static amidst the noise and the chaos of life, all is fixed in place eternally bowing to whatever fate the gods decree.

what is meaning?

 the elusive metaphor that explains, what reality is. we don’t want is to just be is, we want is to be something, a reason for is. it is for a reason. then we can make sense, prepare, recover, accept, deny whatever we need to do with what is. but if the idea of meaning is not, the reality doesn’t work. I want cause and effect, but that’s just a visual pun, the result of observer and observed, not intrinsic to the pieces. im closing some doors here. the purpose, meaning, hope, these all lack the foundation I seek. what is that which has no other, no dual nature, no temporary existence. all ideas, feelings, beliefs, exist to support their dual natures. life death, good bad, true false. whatever i can imagine has no intrinsic factual nature without its opposite to compare it to. i define life as what happens when we are not dead. death as unliving.  there is no permanence to anything  I  am or do. the flesh perishes, the light of the mind dissolves into darkness, the reality I experience disappears even as I go to sleep or even close my eyes. where is the truth of my senses. others are the same, some more stuck in who they are and others less so, but none exist outside the now, beyond the dual nature of existence. I look at meaning and think meaningless as if one is more real than the other, yet both exist simultaneously and neither brings any truth to what is. the isness sustains until I stop. all is and I am that departed unliving undead unfeeling unthinking meaningless awareness that is. beyond that vague concept, I know nothing that truly is me. the reality of existence is questionable and therefore unreal. if there is only the one, and I cling to that, what is the truth to all other. I am the only truth and what is for all is for me so where is the sense or the meaning of that except as the one being is and all I experience is that. there is no other separate, disconnected self or selves. the world of billions is one being existing, as one mind can be filled with billions of thoughts and feelings and memories and dreams so is the world just a dream of the being and I that dreamer, awakening.

this heart is pounding,

 feeling the opening that love brings. the evening is filled with the wonder of my loves heart o expanded so filled with her light shining on all. no one is left out, turned away or missed. all is perfect love, and she the most perfect and I the luckiest to be here near her while this is born and borne and carried through her to the world. what an amazing world, amazing life this has been. how could it be otherwise, I set my foot on the path of miracles and they never cease, I fall in love and it is with the golden heart of the universe, I cry for liberation and the very lord himself comes to me. what more can there be yet I know it comes soon. and all will be done as I planned it without doing anything. let all be as it will and I will cease any concern or care, leave all fear behind and move with this incredible power that fills every bit of my life and be that always, love has the power and life is the engine of transformation, for without delusion no enlightenment is possible. I cry my last tear for loves generosity and take my place at the head of the line, for here I stand and here I am and that is who I am.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

I have this thing about dying in a foreign country

 lost and broke down, empty and that’s  what this feels like sometimes, the opening scenes, all is well as jack striker begins a four month sojourn toward spiritual enlightenment in India. the movie starts in a four star
hotel, then a friends house and finally a miasmic  decline into ashrams, hovels and street life, ending in a desperate swim across a deadly river, and the iconic collapse of the immune system. somewhere along the line, it all happens but jack isn’t there anymore. it’s a beautiful evening in tiruvannamalai, the snake bugs are shushing  sibilating, the motor bikes and rickshaws rattling popping, trucks and buses pretty quiet this saturday night. im alone in my room the head guru sits on the bed in the living room, taking up the high spiritual ground to work his nightly magic in samadhiland. he keeps all his clothes in my room and the bathroom is in my room also, so we pretty much live in each others rooms, he has the kitchen in his so it’s a stay away kind of thing and im glad I have the  bathroom as that’s my biggest deal since my illness doesn’t allow much leeway in that regard. the learning to use the no toilet paper system is not really flying for me but I try to get some expertise there, especially  considering the raw bark nature of the local tissue. as the mind explodes from the overload of the cosmic energy, often so does the colon, so im glad like I said to have the bathroom door right next to me. india has had a strange affect im gaining weight, which seems totally unbelievable, but my daily 3 hour walks have fallen off as I struggle to get even an hour in each day, and I have been spending an inordinate amount of time with my soulmate and we seem to spend a lot of time in restaurants where we love to chat and eat of course. she leaves in  4 days so I resolve to start a heartier walking program on the inner trail of mount arunachala, the Om sivaya namah presence that is starting to eat through my consciousness. I have no real life here, I get to go to breakfast at tasty in the 7am after meditation, then its take the master on his errands, then a late lunch somewhere, usually the house, then more twaddle and strum until 7pm when the night ends with more meditation and then he goes into Samadhi and I basically become a prisoner in my room. so here I type and wonder if I should start my spiritual autolysis here on these pages, just write what is true. that’s difficult since as you know, everything is false, but truth does exist but not in a form that is describable, more you can only say what it is not, the actual experience of truth is indescribable, since there is no one there to experience it. is that confusing enough, well it should be if you have a head and two shoulders, you’re probably wondering what im talking about and so am i. it’s a pretty hefty way of putting out the trash and theres always the baby with the bathwater thing. all the good with the bad, and whatever you were with whatever you think you are and going to be. let that all dribble down the drain too. even at 61 im not ready to shuffle off this stupid train im on, cause its been a great ride so far and I thought we were just getting to the good part, but it seems theres some dissension about whats the good and the better of spiritual exploration. wake up, or nod out, enjoy or work, seek or just sit, im not a real fan of any of these as I wander aimlessly trying that perfect method of being unaimed and always finding the mark, or whoever at the other end. inside I’m a diamond in the rough, but somewhere I’m a piece of coal and its Christmas all over the world. what does it all mean, or is that even a question, I think not but I still got a ways to go to get here. thanks for the memories which I’ve forgotten and don’t let the wind blow where the good lord split ya.

Friday, December 16, 2011

if i tell the truth

then i lie because even the truth has no existence, only what is. telling is a lie because no truth exists in words, actions come closer, the heart is the truth, the sense of truth, but feelings lie and disguise everything. only the self untouched can be true, and never leave. whatever truth and peace i feel is when i am on my own. being with others is only pain. nothing creates love or joy when others try to control me. the truth of me needs to be away from others. not under them. i am controlled by my own reactions, feelings of being subservient or manipulated or judged. before i would not care but a few that i do care for have some matching membrane that attaches to me and i submit, then i am lost and depressed. there is no love for me there, no truth, yet that is when i need it the most, to speak truthfully what i feel with anger or upset, yet that is what i feel, and then its done i am not able to, and my anger is stifled not released, not truly expressed and the world seems to settle on me and then i am dying and want to be done and gone. release me everything, i should just get lost and be forever me with everyone, until i honestly feel the surrender, the change the truth that has come and has gone as every change comes and goes and i am nothing before the wind that blows everything over again and again

at the tasty, in tears

 over some small story of generosity, my heart a bleeding rag of emotions.i wonder what kind of old woman i really am that cant keep any perspective on life, everything is the result of my thinking there was something to accomplish or be or become, a goal or destination anything besides just being myself. i am this the crying old man the ex addicted, looking for a new addiction. my heart is perfect, it loves and loves and is letting go of any resistance, the pain of feeling is intense and sometimes its enough to make the living hurt more than dying. i sit in meditation unable to ground, unable to focus just a wash in the world of maya, until i settle and accept that i cannot be at peace and forgive myself. there is only silence and peace and the world seems to stop. i feel a thrumming and a deep opening as the energy rushes into the space i have created in me, suddenly i am the child the loved one the being born. i sit unawares of the world and feel the enlightened state expand. one life, one heart, all at once there is only the moment and the peace of self unchanged. there is no past not coming tomorrow i am once and only the one self awakening in myself. as i step closer to the moment that is here in the present, the cares and thoughts end, the emotions quiet, the only feeling is gratitude and i feel the generosity of the universe given again and again to me who never knows but accepts what is now and soon forever. what surrender this to what is, to the time i have until it is gone. there is little i can do but accept and accept without thinking and worry for this is all there is and i the only one.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

whatever i am feeling

it comes from the same place, me. theres no one else here. the same one that creates, destroys, rebuilds, completes and never finishes, leaves things just as they are and messes everything up. the real truth is that i'm tired of doing for others, making sure their messes are taken care of. i realize now that my normal awareness is everyone elses momentary peak. the range of awareness is stunning, especially the lack of it. what others seem to think is normal is to me so limited i cant believe it when they demonstrate their inability to see something that is directly in their range of acuity. then when i point it out they become offended that i would think they should have noticed. like being awake is an insult. let this be notice that im done with it all. i have no desire to be around or following any brain dead people anymore. i feel i have done enough for everyone. who knows what this means spiritually and i really dont give a shit. i will pay whatever price necessary to be left alone. speak the truth and be free from sin, that is my only credo. let the rest be what it is, if its anger or resentment or even disgust, then so be it. i am that in everyone. i am not at all realized or even in the neighborhood. the only thing i am is me, and that encompasses all of everything. if i am in a place of discontent, then i forgive myself for that and keep moving. the world is a circus and i am just a trained monkey loose from my chains, nothing is set in stone and no one is my master.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

I am always in the shadow

 the eclipse, the penumbra of the divine. the light is cast before me and the being awaits its pure delight, yet the celestial play intervenes unabated and eternally. little souls abound, plying in the half light, the half life of the body the desire bound souls, awaiting their next round after round of the dance of the denied the defeated. where is this for the divine, the elevated masters, the enlightened and beyond. for enlightenment is just the birth the opening the first rung of the human to divine ladder the eyes see the truth of being. what steadfast foes we are to this reckoning and unreasoning. we play at the game, unwilling to give up or forgive, waiting forevers to move a muscle to make it possible. then when it happens, all is done and the light is finally lit, we are unprepared to be but have no way to not. this is where the true souls wait, the teachers the givers of truth, on the other side of truth, the sunshine of life. those who did not stop and wither, seek shelter in a cave, transcend the body. these remain to show the work that remains, the path of supramental light. it is true that while the mind dominates the spirit languishes, there is no suffering for the soul, but the human connection feels the unending longing, the yearning for that divine union of physical, vital, mental psychic and spirit. there is no other experience for the self, only the union and transformation of all into one being, one connection to one self. eternally the mind removes us from that experience, one step away, one shift from here to there, now to then, all is a play of minute forces shifting, distracting, obliterating the most obvious state with the sensations and desires of a million abstractions. it is the content of the emotions, the thoughts that are the issue, the drama of the memories and desires that fill the present moment and drive the self away from its purity and alignment with the truth, which contains no content, no drama, no desires. life is the abstraction, love the path, emptiness the state, being the truth. when all else is removed, the purity prevails automatically. don’t dwell on the content, just let all sense of it go, do not look at the details, but wipe away the whole board, like a deck of cards sweep them from the table of awareness, let everything go, what remains is the truth, the being untouched even after  lifetimes of neglect and dissolution. the end is never and now is the only time. I has no thoughts, no desires, I exists only, as the connection to being. I is everything and nothing, the i you think you are, the feeler, the thinker, the wanter, the doer, all is illusion, that i dies and is replaced billions of times in every body that dies. but the I that is, that connects to the imperishable being, is never changed, never lost, never created but only realized as all else departs, is left behind, wiped clean, the truth of life is nothing endures but the truth, only the imperishable self endures. become that eternally, do not dwell on every sensation that creates desire and action and frustration, every feeling of want and need and greed, become clear as a pane of glass, look into the light that is everywhere shining and become that. we exist in that light only and all matter is light condensed, stuck, caught in the web of resistance, do not resist the light, open yourself to its highest vibration, feel the light, the unending purity of its vibration freeing all sense of individual self, become the one force that burns away all delusion, all darkness, all unconsciousness, become the light of awareness.

Friday, December 9, 2011

the work is always what is before me

right now there is nothing, just the days and nights of utter relaxation and self surrender, the love of being, i read my books, meditate , exist, my bovine existence is sublime. i wonder what is next what is left, vaguely unconcerned, all is the empty bucket and lightly carried to the well. the desperation and determination are settled, done, the being here has ended that. i wake like a log from sleep undisturbed, i spend the morning at the cafe, catching up on my blog, uploading, emails and entrails on the facebook. what more could i want except to do the same things elsewhere.spiritually im  nothing, no it, who what, just this existing awareness, no work to do no teaching need, no lust for expansion.i take my moments as golden from every corner, this is the sublime state, not feeling any pull or push to do or become. what is spirit but that which i truly am, the god within at peace and satiated. one candle lit lights all and i have been present for the ceremony of lights and beyond. i exist as pure and untouched awareness and relax as flesh and bone no longer held bound, awaiting release, all is done.whatever questions i had are now the answers i sought, the transformation is from seeking to knowing, again released and transformed in the same motion. i have nothing and want nothing, this life, this suffering soul is gone, what remains are the days leading on and on into infinity, eternity, unified and one, integration proceeds. there is no needing, the relations and relationships are just shadows of myself, the idea there is anything left to add or subtract no longer has any gravity.i am that one being, i exist as that knowing i am that, becoming that and all is that. i cannot imagine needing another, following or subscribing. in the west we are all lost followers, searching for what we dont have, whats missing, but its exactly whats missing we should be having, letting go until nothing remains and the emptiness sucks at the bones. i feel that, the empty bones, the lifeless form, and the joyous self, the being released and remembered restored to the self where only the self has been, what Self this self dreams, becomes, exists as the truth and never leaves.

its funny how the world takes

 your dreams away even as your just remembering them, just as you begin to see the edges of this world, the light reflecting off edges and shapes that will become familiar and solid. the truth is made of cotton candy and even the walls are just oiled paper wrapped around the thought of separation. im groggy and confused this morning, the last thing I remember was the book getting heavy in my hands and the light too bright, then a noise as the alarm was pulsing from my backpack. the useless phone, now just a clock and camera, stuffed in the outer pocket. the act of getting up and pushing the dismiss button, left all my dreams behind. the dark world of 4:30 evolves like a lampshade waiting for the light. I haven’t felt the pull to meditate, my evenings end early, I sleep through the night and write little, I am feeling life, not aware of it, not realizing anything, just in the moment examining nothing. it feels like im waiting for a train at the station, running late or im just too early, patiently doodling, reading, wandering the confines, rereading the unchanging schedules of arrivals and departures. but I don’t have a ticket or idea of where to go. maybe im supposed to meet someone, not go somewhere. it would be nice to meet somebody, its kind of a lonely place though its jammed with nervous and tired people, none of them speaking a language I know. none of them able to see me or I them , just cameos of connections, eyes washing over a sea of bodies, each in its momentary tableau, a slice of the life in this instant exposed to me. where it came from, the world that grew into this, where it will go and change and end, a mystery. just in this moment, we are together, all sharing the same physical space, actors together, lines rehearsed, cues ready, the cameras focused everywhere. I feel the life movie rolling, the direction offstage and on, all the eyes intent, the lights sharp, the shadows dim and fuzzy. where am I in this world, this life the only moment I exist, I miss the connection from anywhere to here to anywhere else. I disappear in the cracks and the fade outs, there is just now, I respond from the knowing  the awareness of the unchanging experience, the all seeing consciousness, its not me, there never was a me, just the simple being, watching being feeling the exquisite pang of longing granted its release. I know where the dreams go, the well of unformed thought, the river of ceaseless motion, the ocean of existing, the little mind sends the desire and the images and feelings and sensations arise all the music of the creation, the orchestration of all the instruments and their harmonies and dissonance, all from the score set before them, none can strike a note or a beat except it is written and brought forth unbidden, where the musician diverges that too is plotted and woven intricately and without a pause into the notes everywhere played at once. each instrument plays untouched, unstudied, a coda to the cosmic dance, the music of the spheres, the waltz of the blue Danube, the river itself, the drama of the world is music to the unseen forces weaving every note endlessly.

in this religion of existence, we believe completely, nothing is held back, no part untouched, we delve into desire without any resistance, without any reserve, the world awaits impatiently and our feelings are fully engaged, the truth is the sharp pain and pleasure, the everyday stuff that makes life real and total. the movie never stops and the dream within a dream goes deeper everyday. losing my religion is my new twist, my pathless path, gateless gate. im finding nothing out and using that space for dumping the useless trash of my dogma and human mental disease, though im not sure where the new reality begins and the distortion ends, I trust in the spaces between things, the lessening, the losses, the unfamiliar territories that expand and contract around me. in the brown world the roads wander without maps and the ways to et places seem obscurely unrealized, I remember knowing where things were and where I was going but no more, no more knowing, just being where things move around and wonder if its me or them that’s actually in motion. im sitting in my car at the light I suddenly think I am going backwards as the car next to me pulls forward, I am tossed through the mirror of the empty mind and travel backwards through the mirror, down the rabbits foot into the hole of reason and set things straight, where even the sun cant shine, and I accept that for  real, for what is as the light sits green and I cant find the clutch or the gearshift. sometimes the light is shining on me. other times I can barely see, what a long strange trip its been. the sixties never ended, but I had a long nightmare that kept coming back. who I am is not the question, the answer is everyone, thoughts are the jailers command and im sitting in a cell with electrodes all over my head., my feet in a pail of water, the pain of belief etched on every inch of flesh. what more could one ask for even as I hear the caged bird cry.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

eatin blues

its not a lot of spiritual or meditative energy lately, the busyness of moving out and in and stuck with constant noise and no access to anything during depam. what i was doing before and now are like night and day. india has thrown me out of awareness and into experience, i guess its a survival thing, being ready for the next thing, being reactive as the unknown or known appears. the hotel was good, the safety there, the comfort, access to the things i need everyday. moving to the sticks 5 miles away, is more difficult especially as the festival makes travel very difficult. i have been stuck in the house practically the last 3 days with a short trip to lunch at a 5 star hotel down a little used dirt road, very nice.but my meditations and energy seem to be subsiding, the world is too much in my face and i feel overwhelmed with all the small tasks that take so much energy here. i need some vegetables but finding decent ones seems like a huge project, so i stay with cereals and yogurt, toast and coffee, peanut butter. thats the size of my diet unless i eat out then its some unknown indian dish that might burn its way through me or deposit some unhealthy bacteria in me. its all a bit much to deal with, but as soon as depam ends i should be able to start getting around more and maybe find a way to get some regularity in my diet.

yippee its depam!

Its Depam, the big celebration where they turn Arunachala into a bic lighter for 10 days. due to the huge crowds and closed strets and cafes, i havent been able to get to the internet for a few days. its all crazy and doesnt change the days are a funny mixture of trying to get somehwere and going nowhere, wanting and not getting, doing and nothing gets done. the life gets washed out, the old life the one that isnt here anymore, just a few notes and pictures that show up on facebook, the rest is empty, theres no life anymore, just rooms and places to stay, settling up accounts when you can and the slow drain on the finances that sounds like a toilet flushing . what is meaningful, the meditation the chants, the quiet walks, all suffer during depam. just driving today, the second day of the celebration, is a dangerous business as thousands still wander the streets. On the first day 400000 indians invade the tiny village that surrounds the mountain and turn the streets into a living nightmare/party/bathroom. its amazing. the 14 km route around the mountain is sacred and all the folks walk it from dawn to midnight barefoot and dressed in dhotis and saris everyone hurrying or going slow but definitely toe to toe and head to head, not an inch to spare. I left at 10 am and stopped atthe ashram for a visit and the daily invocation of the 1000 names of god, little celestial energy from bhagavan and simran is always a boost. then it was back on the road an hour later. everyone stares at my sneaker clad feet but since i'm a white guy they dont threaten to castrate me or run me out of town on a burning log covered in boiling oil, which i hear is the usual punishment for such offenses. it was a hot and overcast day, muggy and dusty, not too bad for a long walk. the crowd was constantly being split by cars and motorcycles going through, even though the streets were supposed to be closed. at least half the vehicles were police and they must have pulled up all the reserves for this one, and half were very lovely indian women looking quite attractive in their field brown uniforms. everywhere, loudspeakers blaring and gaudy colored street signs and advertisements and every inch of curb space covered in small stalls with every indian trinket and doodad available. the walk was a long three and a half hours and i was so glad to walk down shit alley to my house, the side streets were all covered in human waste serving as open air toilets for the multitudes. after a long shower i felt human and ate everything in my fridge. sleep was long and restful and the mountain lit like a bic at 6pm, though the flame seemed fitful for the first hour and definitely small compared to the almost full moon filling the misty night sky. the spirit of arunachala is Shiva, the destroyer of untruth, and certainly i felt destroyed after being massaged by thousands of moving bodies all day, each having their own delightful, boring, exciting, necessary experience  at the annual depam festival.

Monday, December 5, 2011

the air is cool

the village is stirring this morning, the swirling edges of its passing are flooding my cerebral cortex with happy juices. i am in some kind of aware and altered consciousness after listening to 3 hours of chanting this morning before dawn. everything is high and light and the day dawned with a coolness i dont remember in this hemisphere before. i am alive and awake and glad to be free from the delusion of doing or needing. sure im getting a scooter and moving to my brothers very posh pad, but theres no difference, i would be happy in the smallest room downstairs from the cafe, but nothing is available until after the festival and the streets are filled with barking dogs and those white bulls and cows that are being sold during the depram. its a world apart and i feel a part of it. The walk around yesterday was incomplete by 2 km but the other 14 were magically swift and mostly painless.but the bleeding toe flap on her foot decided us to stop at a very nice hotel and have an extremely spicy lunch, 13 tiny bowls of burning hot dishes to mix with the rice and chapatis, and then delicious indian ice cream with strawberry and pistachio flavors. then a long ride back the way we came, since the festival has closed the roads in town and we are forced to spend 4$ US to drive back the 14km we had walked now riding in the auto rickshaw. the night was sleep from 10pm till 2am then up meditating to the amazing chants recorded from the owner of the tasty cafe onto my pin drive. so amazing i could feel the agni in my head and the widening the opening of the 6th sense. the tone and timbre and repetition seems to change the vibration of the mind and everything shifts perfectly into the highest frequency.
here at the tasy, with its open veranda and palm thatched roofs, the rustic tables and plastic chairs, extremely good food and the topping on the whipped cream is the wireless internet, i live for the time i am here and can connect to my us homies and write this blog, god is good, god is great. praise be the divine shakti and this loving world.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

pondi dreaming

the earliest yet, 12:30 after a long lovely amazing day in pondicherry, all mothers energy with vic and simran floating with me. the trip was along 3 hours there, arriving late morning, into the mahasamadhi, bow kneeling touching our heads to the flower garlanded stone. many people walking through also kneeling and sitting nearby. we sit before mothers couch and the energy begins to sing in my head like a fine wire stretched tight and struck. i feel the heavy eyes and my thoughts sink into oblivion. we walk back out to mothers crypt and sit the voice in my head singing higher and higher, the energy like a brilliant laser piercing my forehead illuminating the diamond embedded within, pulsing with the strength of the transmission. smrans eyes are heavy lidded and beautiful, she says, lets go to the bookstore and 5000rs later we stumble out with a packful of mothers books and pictures. we gather up our shoes and take pictures at the gate and stumble down the pretty cobblestones of the french quarter and vist the shops in aurobindoville around the ashram. at the VOks bookstore we purchase a complete set of mothers interaction in miniature, 17 volumes neatly bound and with endless stories from her years of teaching at the ashram. then its down the street to find the long remembered pizza parlor in the Casablanca shopping area. its  2 veggie pizzas with cokes and garlic bread and pasta with veggies and a mint mohito drink for vic as we slowly descend from mothers energy and settle in with grounding food. everyone is happy and filled with loving memories of the 6 years simran spent here. its a long lunch and finally the girls are ready to shop for clothes, all whites of course and after many trips through the Trial Room, they both pick out their favorites. i pay the clerks, who all remember simran even though she hasnt been there for years.everywhere we go,people break into huge smiles and call her by name and chat incessantly exchanging numbers and assurances of seeing her again. she is magical, and this visit is all about finishing, closure, completions. being loved for everything she had done before but left without receiving the due for her tremendous contributions, now it is all being finished and remembered and the love is everywhere she is.i know her heart cannot hold all this, she is bursting with gratitude and humility,its a wonder she isnt drowning in her tears as she walks. finally we stop at the famous seaside guesthouse and ask for rooms for next week and wonder of wonder we are given reservations without having to resort to insider help or pleading and begging. everyone walks away amazed, as the help all comes forward to talk to Sim and burst into happy smiles that she has returned after so long. we walk along the beach at the bay of bengal and she talks of how the area has changed and not for the better as far as the attitudes of the property owners and we are not permitted to see the mothers gardens that once were open to the public but are now reserved for paying guests only. we know today was just a rehearsal for the three days we will be staying next week so we get to our hired car, make a short stop at a christian church where a wedding is taking place for Vic wants to pray at the altar a moment to complete her daily ritual of the sacred heart of jesus litany she performs. then its down the long and crowded road this sunday evening through the many small villages and with one tea stand stop, until 3 hours later we finally pull up to the ashram and complete our was amazing and i feel this powerful love from her for me and i know i will always be eternally linked with her divine being.

Big party at the shiva temple

one thing about staying up all night, you get to feel a lot of weird stuff that you normally wouldnt since dreaming would handle all that. i feel like my hair is sensitive, my feet are too big and my nose is swollen, and thats just the physical. mentally im certain i must be deranged and deluded to be doing this, but im actually starting to like it here. i want to get my own house and just live, maybe even get an extension so i can stay more than 6 months and not have to leave. and i ve only been here for 2 days and it seems like weeks, well i guess its all in how you take it. the hotel makes it easy for 35 dollars a day and easy access to all the cafes and local sights. we're going for the walk around, some kinda girivalam or some nonsense, the walk around the mountain of power, shivas lingham. in a couple of days the huge celebration happens and hundreds of thousands of people are going to show up to party for 3 days and im being kicked out of the hotel in favor of the short term party animals who have been planning their little getaway for a year in advance, like the mountain might leave or something.well im going to my brothers house and i might just like it so much i'll stay there afterwards, we'll see. its just im not feeling so great about being in my brothers SAT energy anymore, i feel ive gotten all i need of it for now and i want to be in my energy here, and walk the mountain and meditate without any artificial intelligence mixed in. sure hes got it all going on ,but maybe i dont and dont need to, im pretty sure my fate is not his and i need to get that sorted out pretty quick here before i end up dead anyway. im playing the numbers game and the numbers are getting high, its a house holds the cards and all the odds are stacked against you but im holding out for the big score and im just getting started so i dont want that to affect my attitude which is the whole game on my side, its not what you do, its how you feel, solid, in the groove, cant be touched, thats the only way to get ahead with these sharks. the waters infested and im definitely got some skin in the game, not to mention blood on the water and the whole scene is some thing out of apocolypto or maybe colonel curtz in Apocalypse now, martin sheen and the pajama boys eating moldy rice and fishheads. i feel some kind of weird connection to the frontliners trying to sort out their lives waiting for the next IED to take a leg out or maximize the PTSD for a stateside run. its dawn, the mountain shrouded in a heavy mist and looking like a living heap of rock and dirt somnolent after a heavy nights feeding. im planning to offer up a little flesh myself soon, so im kinda glad its here.

Saturday, December 3, 2011

in the hotel 3am

morning at the lakshmi, the air moist as a rain soaked camels hump and just as odorous. The night sky filled with water vapor and smoke and dust, thousands of beggars and working class people sleeping on the streets and in thatched roof hovels in a small town surrounding the holy mount arunachala, the famous mountain of shiva,the destroyer of falsehood, which is a good trick since its all a bunch of bullshit everywhere you go. cheaters, dealers, wheeled mercenaries, idolaters and fakirs plying the western tourists come to find some version of the same god they have at home but more dressed down and personable. or maybe just easier to meet here since this is where gods and men mingle on the streets to see what deals they can make. here men have become gods and passed beyond the liberated borders of the damned and miserable. a fine catch for a german seeker or a jewish wanderer. all souls come to god or some version thereof. the legal language escapes me but its some kind of carpe diem or e pluribus unum nonsense that drives bodies halfway around the world to be told either they're full of shit or else its exactly what their looking for and either way they stay for more and keep coming back. business is booming like never before and the beggars are having trouble picking their marks.people from the west come dressed in the simple whites and robes and ochers of the sanyasis and malis and just crazed dreadlocked mountain worshipers that cant tear loose of the shiva juice thats like diamond dust in the air here. Everyone seems to know or worship the Ramana maharishi who's ashram and temple sit in the center of this seekers paradise, early morning chanters congregate in the cool and dusty temple and meditation halls surrounding the ancient well site and hundreds of barefoot white faces wander the acres of historic huts and mud walled rooms and stables around the 19th century home of the man who made who am i? a religion. of course he didnt stop there, he had to embellish it a lot to keep the starry eyed coming back, since no one knows who they are unless they're totally insane which most of these folks must be to be scratching mosquito  bites and applying 200 spf sunblock all day while avoiding muddy cow pies everywhere you walk. But the Maharshi is not alone here, this is a holy mans paradisio, complete with the fakirs and crazy men wandering the streets and rail thin beggars of every description lacking most of the teeth but none of the chutzpah of a new york cabbie hunting a fare downtown.the shops are an eclectic pastiche of homemade bags and soapstone idols, metal work and cheap beads and notion, many small groceries with a blend of swap meet and 7-11 mentalities and yes everyone is wagging thei heads with the unmistakable logic that nothing is where it should be, but it must be here somewhere. and thats the catch for the spiritual shopper here, everyones got a guru or three and a couple of auruyvedic doctors and hospitable ashram rooms where their particular poison is dispensed on a regular basis, and they are all just shopping and eating at the many watering and feeding holes that cater to these non conformists and oddballs that collect in these bywaters and offshoots of the spiritual path. all the worlds full of these places and this one has many of the amentities that folks want. this hotel for instance, filtered water, a must, miniaturized furniture with a full kitchen and blessed airconditioning, more for the dry air than the cold, but both an almost orgasmic event after a day on the muggy sweltering dirt roads and stuffy bug filled temples that line the roads around the holy hill of thiruvannamali. the few decent cafes around serve black coffee and toast, eggs and omelets and an assortment of western vegetarian and south indian foods. The waters not safe to drink and some of the bathroom facilities lack the amenities of toilets or paper, the means of which to accomplish the task that bathrooms are made for is the subject of many a dinner and espresso conversation. Theres little to remind one of home here, except the people, who as a whole are pleasant, even natured and busy at their work or profession or trades as are people everywhere, but its the higher percentage of obviously spirit minded poverties and socially acceptable street dwellers that you notice more. the traffic bustles like a mad antpile around and between and through hordes of uncaring and quite lovely people going about their everyday business in the streets and dirt sidewalks of the town. It a good place to be if you want to see some of the old and new india in the midst of the upheaval and groaning expansion of no class to some semblance of lower to middle class living where none existed before. the explosion of personal autos being the most noticed especially as people who have never driven all their lives take to the maddened streets of taxis motorcycles  trucks and buses all ignoring any rules of the western roads and become the new kids trying to drive around the blocks and experience economic freedom just as the westerners come to find their own freedom in the burning heart of india. i talk a good story but im not just here for the aruyevedic cures and the holy water either, theres a particular guru in town that has wreaked his personal style of spiritual mania on many of my family and very closest friends, and has a small ashram business on the outskirts of town where im looking at rental properties to cut my expenses while im taking the cure, this dumpy hotel definitely eating into my limited resources.this particular avatar or incarnation or just plain huckster with a big dish of spiritual knowledge, seems to carry a force ive seen only in comic books. No to overplay it, but he plays with the pros and deals out massive shakti and jianni experiences to his few followers who seem to suffer as much as they swoon around him. I try to keep my distance, but he keeps ending up right in front of me one way or another. one minute with him and all my karmas start popping like jiffy pop and i feel like the aluminfoils about to burst. its a love love hate thing, where he ran off with my girl and sent me back the mother and im unable to extract myself from her not unlovely embraces. its like being in love with the virgin mother, shes the greatest but your stuck with some kind of childlike crush and unfathomable attraction while being unable to say no, ever. its too cool and fun and amazing but not like anything elsei've seen. she is the one and i know theres a few million just like me waiting to meet her. the day is trying to get started and i'm going to go out for a predawn walk to see what the world looks like at 4:30am here.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

my box is empty

the life where i kept myself, this box of me, i was rooting around for some semblance of who i am or was or might be, i'll settle for a figment now, but there is nothing here, some old receipts and a torn movie stub from last years premiere of avatar, the rest is just unknown scraps of stuff that could be anyone. even this parade of holidays has left the station without me, i wasnt dressed and didnt study my part like i usually do, no stuffing the turkey or rushing through walmarts for undiscarded giftings, stuff that neither i nor they want but will have to take once its wrapped and delivered. i'm out on the streets this year or laid up with a bad feeling throughout my body. whats the point, everyone can have a good time without me i guess, i'll be looking for some kind of redemption or deliverance, maybe just a long layaway plan for the soul, something not too dear but affordable for the unemployable and bedridden members of the clan. the days are like weeks and the weeks are years without end.the life i was living seems chimera-like spinning with colors but having no substance. the future is invisible, the eternal stuff i am sunk in, more concrete for this one, is unbearable, just the waiting alone is an eternity. release all desire and the sense of time ends, without wanting there is no time, time wants and space provides time a place to wait. i am in the doctors office, actually sitting on the examination table, told to wait, there are dog eared magazines from years of sick patients just like me waiting endlessly, shaving pieces of their life away waiting to find out how much that will cost them. its a spacey place this eternal purgatory. no amount of wanting can unstuck me, no unwanting no not wanting can exist when there is a place and time and a change occurring in the world that traps a physical being into identification and suffering. To not be identified, to fear nothing, to be only and not add a reason or description to that, there the world ends and i hope that my stop is coming, some station without tracks or counter, some bench with the whistles whispering through the night stillness and the emptiness of time undone.

my face a waxy grey

my insides like molten jello, no strength in my legs, eyes sanpaku, all is unbalanced in this endeavor. what humans survive knowing there is little hope of being anything once there is an end to this. i have seen cancer survivors, still battling the effects of the chemo years later, this is like that, the cure is what kills not the disease. there is a lot to be said for surrender to the end, the death if that is what to be, no longer struggling, bartering, fighting the inevitable. for it is the ego that tries to change the result, wants to control, not the being not the spirit waiting patiently for the release or continued bondage of the flesh. wicked self of desire, wanting to live in this world of delusion, a falseness that is so supreme all are its willing victims. even the plane and passengers go nowhere, the earth a thought forgotten, then later remembered as the plastic and metal shudders and shakes for hours. nowhere am i, not here there anywhere. that i is not and never was, i remember the dream not the waking, the paradise of love and suffering, the homeliness of the chair and fire. i write and read in simple joy, sipping my hot beverage in a pool of yellowed light. Where was that, who was i, how did i forget such things. the little self expires in increments, the rest is just waiting for ripeness, doneness, time succeeds where i fail and all is that sumptuous feast of life and i the invisible man awaiting some realization, some human contact that never can return.

the burning never ends

warmth like fire is best enjoyed from a distance, not becoming accustomed to its nature unduly. for even the smallest flame will burn if too close. the flame of awareness burns everything it touches, leaving only ash and memories. for me the memories are dimming and the ash is piling up. wives children lovers special times, places and people, all in the ashes of the past, there is no future for them and so for me. we live in the future according to what our past dictates, the good memories, avoidance of the bad, what creates that which we strive for? the past, there can be no striving without a memory of what and why that reminds me. its a blank wall with a few outlines. the future is a s hazy as the past, nowhere to go to be to accomplish.what was important is now some kind of unstuck sticky note that is laying on the kitchen floor, soon to be swept up and lost forever in the eternal garbage heap of past life. what future can there be, just the days emptiness and promise of unknowing to feel through like a blind man in an open field, trying to determine through clues where i am. the luck of the draw, the grace from above, the miracle of serendipity is all we have for inside its a wasteland, no one home, the ships rudderless and the sails seem slack in the stillness.i dont think theres much i can say but the words bring some cold comfort, they exist on this device as a reminder of who i was when i wrote them, act like electronic memories where real ones, if they can be called that, fail.

somewhere outside there is a world

the slate wall of fog covers every window, the light filtered and diffuse. deep meditation on supermind and supramental forces fill the silence. All is the early morning before a busy day. the doctor and the child prepare breakfast and talk as multiple murders are graphically recounted on the morning news from multiple stations. i think of india and its a closed door to me.the world there is not mine, not the life ive known or where i would choose to be. the life there though soaked in spiritual awareness is as foreign as becoming another species and forgetting i am a human. and that is the trick, the unknowing of all these things, the letting fall away your identification with such things that are as dear as arms and legs. i know to well all the thoughts and beliefs i carry unknowingly as they rule me, in retrospect or in the third person i am aware but as i live and breathe here all are as close as skin and blood. what life this that i cannot let go of everything,like a bad hand of blackjack with everything lost and let go of the losings, walk away empty and feel nothing. i used to think we were given life and love and wonderful magic, but these are the prison walls as clearly as the pain and suffering, but harder to separate from. deeper they live in me and tighter they hold.i am my own fantasy and i have fallen in terrible greed with the feelings and thoughts of being this. its not that i dont see i just cant stop when it seems like i should. how is love different from this identification, does it still exist when i stop believing in it? is it without me still self existent? that will answer one paradigm before moving to the next where questions become the riddles for understanding what cant be answered.