Nothing to blame

even that habit may fall away
cherished yet empty
the thoughts return
gently
the storm settles into waves
and the wave die out
as the moon of belief
fades

Tuning my brain

like a radio, or perhaps a satellite
Tossed chaotically or with purpose
Tell me who knows, really?
For right now, there is no difference
what comes across my screen
I can return to this still point
The carrier wave of my life
That goes on without beginning
Long before I was given “this life”’’’’’’’’’

New Perspectives

Born continuously
Not-knowing
Experience
Appears

without preference
Or condition
gratitude

With movement

Up late I rise reluctantly, groggy and grumpy.

The depressive extremes of yesterday’s
emotions still echoing through me. I wish for a different experience
today, fearing the past so recent. So often "my” sufferings seem so
personally objectionable, for some inane reason.
The habits of shame, depression and despair so believable,
So real, not unlike the belief of truth, bliss and joy that
Juxtapose my emergent awareness of existence.

I gravitate toward the “pleasant” while
Contrasting my suffering against humanity
All of my experiences feel so personal or conversely distant
This dialectic of seeking attention or
not giving a fuck at all
About those I know or those I don’t
I seem to mirror the world

albeit imperfectly.

Thursday Morning

What is this experience we call Love
Is it life wearing a beautiful Mask?
Is it truth holding a mirror to ourselves?
Is it intoxication of the most perfect sort?
Is it the practice of coming back to the breath?
Nothing new to say, Just perhaps a fresh, soft perspective
Looking into the eye of love, What moves away?
What call do we hearken to? That is sweeter than this song
Whose refrain is echoing through-out the universe,
around the water hole*

*1420.40575 MHz

Calcutta Moth

Not a day for great writing, I just want to put something up, so here is a shot taken at my friend Arnibans house on Jera Krishna Mitra Road in N. Calcutta. Arniban, his mother, brother and extended family a were wonderfull hosts, nursemaids and a new extended family, whilst i was an ill guest, in the family home.

I guess this means that i consider this blog a form of expression, or art, or a very underextended attempt to gain attention. The Libraries were wonderful today, Steiner, Heraclitus & Feldenkrais came home with us.

Musing . . .

It is such a pleasure to write. I am grateful that i am underemployed right now, as it affords me the opportunity to create in a more thoughtful "space".

It is somewhat ironic that those we see or speak to rarely can, in moments, bring poignant emotions to the surface of our awareness. And those souls that are familiar sometimes are experienced less subtly. And yet, in the depth of our souls, we know there is only one love.

There is the reality, or, idea of "quantum entanglement" that sub-atomic particles, once attuned to each other remain that way. I think peoples souls have that capacity as well. So i guess that it is more a question of our awareness, as well as interest in a particular "attunement" that brings the idea of "invocation", or, connection, I hope I'm not being too esoteric or spacey in suggesting
that we are connected and feel one another. It is so difficult to surrender our fears and allow them to dissolve into a peaceful acceptance of what is. Often i spend decades or so it seems, struggling with the same issues, in different forms, only to "awaken" again and again, to the simple surrender that comes at the end of my tears.

Just being able to notice that the fear impedes our clarity is profound wisdom. If we can be aware in these moments of fear and contraction of our bodies and our thoughts, we have the opportunity to, for a moment, feel very lucky and blessed. I don't think that i am communicating as clearly as i wish. I am pointing towards something we share, as well as something that at times, feels so solitary.

I am watching work slowly pick up, it is crucial for me, as we live in such a financially focused world, and I guess i am becoming aware of that focus. Both in letting go of it and wanting to continue to enjoy the abundance that i have been so blessed with.

Back on the Road

More Now

So Sikkim is Amazing and beautiful, and someday I will write a chapter on it. On The history of humans and invasion, colonization & “development”. On the other hand, other people have already done that.

I have this story to write, so, if you are interested in Sikkim, do a search and read a book on it’s history. Don’t go there, it has enough trouble and tourists without me sending more.

Anyway, It was a wonderful visit, especially tiger hill, sunrise, Oh that Was Darjeeling?

Darjeeling was before Sikkim and I think where this story starts, cause I bet that’s when Robert Died, When I was trekking up in the Siliguri National forest. In India, The highest national park in the world, (at least that what India claims, I bet china with it’s stolen Tibet has a higher park, but perhaps they are not up to that bit of propaganda, yet . . .

So I was lost in the Himalayan foothills, trying to get to Rimbek and hopelessly far from the trail, when I started to realize I was far from the trail, alone, hiking in a place where a twisted ankle could easily lead to death, with NO Matches! ! ! Important, carry matches when hiking alone. I think I had a dead cell phone (= dead camper) not to mention, when you are in a foreign country, update your sim card so your phone works & you have a # to call in an emergency, 911 does not work in India . . . (or Nepal)

Back to wandering around in the woods, I started to get worried I was lost, realized I had to “rescue” myself, and that I would have to hike back up the thousand feet or so I had so easily wandered down, creek side, riverbank and hill. Going up is a bitch. And yet, the first thing is saw when I headed up was The Corpse of a Red Panda . . .

Now what is a Red Panda? It is a Fox like creature, Beautiful and rare, a spirit animal I had hoped to see on my journey. Seeing a dead one was an omen of a sort, but I could not read it at the time, Perhaps is I had touched it, cut some hair, desecrated it, Would that have “deepened my connection”? Perhaps, but all I did was pause, pray for it’s and my peace, ask it’s spirit to guide me home, and not take a picture and hike up the hill.

Did I know that this was my friend Robert? Is it “true?” Can it be, I don’t know, yet I did and do feel some strange connection, then and now between these events. Obviously I got back up to the road after an interesting 8 hours wandering around that particular few square miles of hillside and ridgeline.

Lo & Behold, as evening fell and the temperature plummeted, I was Picked up by a film crew from Club JR a post production company working for Channel “E” Bengal. My friend Arniban and the guys & Gals there work their butts off making excellent shows 12 hours a day at least 6 days a week and seem pretty dam happy to have “good” jobs in Calcutta . . .

As I found so typical during my journey, these people were kind, interested, friendly and generous with their attention, time, culture and made a effort to take care of me and converse with me in English, take me to dinner in Nepal and get me tucked into a hotel back in India by 10 PM that night. What an adventure!

Life, Meaning and Stories

I have been having a tough time lately. I have not been at all sure what this was about, and it is starting to gel, or make sense, come into focus about two thirty this morning.

Now, an hour later, I am ready to start writing and putting words together.

I have so much to say, and all the electronic time and space to say it. I am burning coal, a sacred fire with this phosherant light on the screen, incandescing light over my shoulder and thinking about the melting ice caps, carbon loading into the atmosphere, and My recently dead friend, calling to me for help-

All things are connected. This is the greatest truth. How they appear to be connected and the stories we use to talk about it, to express it. Is essentially the art of Humanity.

I like big stories, if you can’t tell. It’s an expression of a big ego and a big humanity. And the surrender and embrace of all this messy noisy, dirty life, as we collectively foul our nest. I guess it’s like my life and my house. I have to get it really messy before I clean it up.

I am so happy to feel connected with my life and purpose again. It is difficult when we feel disconnected. I often feel discontent, angry, purposeless and irritable when I am unconnected to a meaningful story in my life.

Recently I have these two powerful stories to use as threads, to weave a picture, to tie people and ideas, meaning and events together to create an experience of living. Joy and purpose and wonder, at myself at life at humanity and this wonderful adventure called life.

Maybe it’s more than two threads; maybe it’s two thousand. I don’t know. Let’s find out.

So One thread is my life. Oy Vay! So much Drama, Mary, I can’t tell you, even where to begin is impossible. I will start with returning from Two months in India, Seeking, finding and playing with the God’s.

It was amazing. It is still beyond the confines of my small life. It is so big; it would take a few pages to event start to express it.

Good !!!

So I got back from India, All well and good. But wait, even that was a lie. I mean the journey home was problematic. I was not even started and the problems were happening.

I was up in North India, Really a country called Sikkim, used to be part of Bhutan, or so the Ruler of Bhutan believed. Truth is, A place belongs to the earth, like us, and those of us who live in a place have the opportunity to respond to the place as caretakers, as husbands and wives, or vandals and thieves, crazy whacko who think it’s OK to cut down trees, dig up Ore, make a mess and then walk away without another thought . . .

Ohh, I’m digressing again?

No, I am adding a few threads to the fabric of this story, so the scope widens, so we can see the whole world, and ourselves, in this story.

No I did not realize I was writing a book about the world, but I guess I have figured that out.

Halleluiah.

Leonard Cohen is Christ; do you know what I’m saying?

Let us pray, for each other, and the world, for cooling and forgiveness

And my Dead friend, and yours, ancestors and Lovers, competitors and enemies,

Especially the enemies, for without them, we could never see ourselves.

Sunday Morning

Awoke listening to Leonard Cohen, A beautiful sunrise, but cool here in central San Rafael. The farmers market was quiet @ 8 AM, normal for post holiday shopping. I missed my Wheat Grass man, Jim, obviously on vacation. I hope he is having a good time. In a few years this peace @ 8 will be gone.

Still very jet lagged and acclimating to the west after 2 months in India. Yelda gets home this evening and i am so looking forward to being with her again after a long absence.

The house is drying out from the flood day before yesterday, the de-humidifiers are running and i am surrendering to the idea of re-modeling the downstairs bath in light of the water damage.

Drinking my first smoothie in 60 days or so, It is sooo good. Happy to be getting onto my Western support program (Thanks too Sisu) . Life here is so different to what i had just got used to in India. It is quiet, clean, a bit lonely and totally absent of Cows, intense searching looks from strangers and the Ambiance of India. I know it is there, on the other side of the world and in my heart, I just do not see it reflected in the eyes of my fellow Marin county residents.