The Revelations of Tut

It turns out we have a lot in common. I have virtually taken up residence at Iao Valley on weekends. I would sleep there if I could. Come to think of it, I'll have to ask him about that. I could probably park at the cafe. Jodie also is obsessed with the valley and like me holds it sacred. Especially he does not hold with anyone messing with his cats. He feeds about two hundred and fifty of them. I went to the cafe for lunch yesterday and had an eggplant sandwich prepared by his nephew who made the final ascent for the dog. A periodic workshop was going on next door hosted by a woman kahuna. Jodie is blind in one eye and has very little color perception in the other. Infirmity has awakened him to alternative medicine. I show him my discs. He's interested. He's going deaf in his left ear. We need the place.

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I am rereading Deepak Chopra's Life After Death. I wasn't unfamiliar with the evidence or skeptical, but this unique distillation of quantum physics and religion is revelatory. How strange that Deepak should be the one tear aside the veil for me, when, as a devotee of Yogananda, I used to look upon him as a star in comparison to the sun. Deepak does not assume the role of guru. Yogananda most definitely did. I believed my devotion to this divine being was my key to liberation. I crashed and burned. And then some. And then a lot more. No, I had to look around for something else. Not necessarily that the fault lay with Yogananda but that the sugar had turned deadly poison. That was some kind of awakening. It's all about awakening.

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I wish I'd teased you over to NaNoWriMo, Ram. I would love to read 1666 word of this a day ;-)

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me too!

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me tree!

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as always, me too… I got the beginning of mine going, finally and have all day tomorrow too… over to Nanowrimo with ya!

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As much as I would like to write a novel and make money, I don't think I can. It takes me a whole day to write a short piece. I believe there is a Sufi word for this, something to do with friendship and the baring of your soul. 

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First I lost my keys in the darkness. Luckily, there was a fire burning at the other end of the campground so I borrowed a flashlight and soon found them half buried in the sand. Then I got bitten by what must have been a centipede that had crawled into the tarp for warmth. My arm swelled up and got very itchy. It has probably boosted my immune system. Nevertheless, the centipedes here are huge and horrible and I slept in my car last night. I was bitten once before in the darkness by something that left an intense burning sensation on my hand. A whole night in the car was not as cramped as I feared but rather cozy and womblike. I guess there was sufficient motivation to adapt. Propped up against the door on pillows, I put the big disc in its shoulder bag on my head and fell asleep. What sweet dreams I had.  

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Thank God. There's hope. Thank you, Barack Obama.

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If there is to be the predicted environmental cataclysm and collapse of civilization, or a quantum shift, or both, at least we'll be waving the right, as opposed to the wrong, banner. That's a mighty consolation.

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By golly, I think you're right.

I was thinking about how all of us wish you would join us with the novel-in-a-month write and how you said that it took you too long to write.  I think you could just take everything you have ever written here at D.D. and plop it down onto paper, send it in, be published immediately and become an overnight sensation.  Then you could buy us all a plane ticket to Hawaii.  Wouldn't that be fun?

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YES to that, Ayla.

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I'm not so sure about overnight sensation. How would I handle that? I've read your novel, Ramsses. I mean journal. What I get is that you wanted to be a saint but that your prick got in the way. Is that right? How does it feel to be without one now?

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help I'm choking on my pink lemonade (with 10 grams of added fiber I might add) oh there, now it's all over the computer screen -jaysus Chris are you trying to kill me?

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I laugh too, but it is frustrating. My writing might be publishable if it concluded with the triumph of love and the reunion with my ex. I'm still working on that. I've given up trying to be a saint.

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She didn't even look at me when I held the door open for her. She wasn't being rude. She had already acknowledged me, distantly. She was upset. Well, someone ought to be. If not the boss's wife, then who? A company already struggling for so long like so many others, disastrously embezzled by a trusted and high salaried employee. It's disgusting. The woman wasn't even smart about it, just piglike in her arrogance and greed. She'll go to jail and so will her husband. I wouldn't care if they were guillotined.

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Line of the day;

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Certainly not the boss.

He always asks me how I'm doing like he really cares. Today I say, I have nothing to complain about, unlike some people I know. He smiles broadly. Let's talk about that. Would you like to come into my office? I close the door. How much do you know, he asks. I'm concommital. I know a lot more than he thinks I do. I won't mention any names, he says. I don't do that. It's only an allegation so far. I was lucky to catch it in time. These things happen. I've seen a lot in my seventy-two years. I've had colon cancer. I'm in great health. I have a lot to be thankful for. It's no big deal.

I'm blown away. This is a guy who voted for McCain and watches Fox News. To me, that's like worshipping the devil. But he's great. He has been so good to me. He put me up in the storage space when I needed it, at considerable risk to himself, as the rental contract does not allow for tenants, and lets me use it as a home base. I asked him how he felt about Obama's victory. He wasn't bothered by it. He thinks all the politicians should be kicked out. We'll see how he does, he says. I've been hearing these promises all my life.

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More and more now I am coming to face reality. You would think that the Zen mission would be happy to have someone who actually used the zendo. That is what Zen is all about, isn't it? It's like democracy. Either it is or it isn't. It really isn't, is it, when politicians consistently chose to reap obscene profits from the military industrial establishment while the country goes to hell in a hand basket. What is so exciting now is that the environment may very well soon follow. But I digress. I've seen this sort of thing so many times before in my life, I should get the message. Not that Yoshi has any objection to my being there, nor, indeed, anyone else in the membership, with the sole exception of the grounds keeper who lives on the property and who has clearly been watching me with seething resentment and whose anger outweighs a whole zendo crammed full of others.

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Ramses wrote:
“Not that Yoshi has any objection to my being there, nor, indeed, anyone else in the membership, with the sole exception of the grounds keeper who lives on the property and who has clearly been watching me with seething resentment and whose anger outweighs a whole zendo crammed full of others.”

That lasy part about the grroundskeper seems so familiar.  Almost as if it is required for any spiritula environment to have at least one miserable, resentful employee that challenges the life-force of the work.  maybe they are teachers after all?

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He's a teacher in the same way that everything is a teacher. My point is discernment and choice. I would like to use the zendo but I don't need it and have no investment in it. I have ignored warning signs in the past to my peril. I may still go to Yoshi's classes out of solidarity for that lone warrior. I could speak to him about it. Neither of us can change the nature of the grounds keeper. What are they going to do, kick him off the property so some interloper can meditate in peace?

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“My point is discernment and choice.”

Not missed chris.  It is what my point was as well.  His, Yoshis, yours and the Zendo's.  The monastary where Thoma Merton used to practice and write at in Kentucky used to harbor drunks anad criminals from the law sometimes.  I loved hearing that from them.  You are warrior in ist truest sense, btu i would be surprised if you see yourself that way, maybe i am wrong.  i admire that in you.

peace,
michael

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Thank you, Michael! It's been a long time since I read Merton. He wrote some wonderful stuff. He could also be very arrogant in his Catholicism. I suppose accidental death was the only resolution to his probable awakening to the scope of Eastern thought and its implications on Catholic dogma. A monastery precisely is where you cannot escape your teachers. I don't recall Merton having that problem but I do remember his reference to hard and pointless labor. Also his fatherly admonishment to a young monk who desired correspondence with a woman. But so did you, Thomas, didn't you?

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I think merton was agrwt teacher of the tension between knowledge and wisdom, arorgance and humility.  He was not always thought of highly by his fellows a The Abby of Gethsemane.  They defeintly questioned whether he was a monk at all sonec he traveled and had relations with a woman.  But they respected his work and hard efforts to share life as a Trappist monk.  I have not read him in years either.  he was helpful to me at a time.  Id id get to spend soome time visiting there at The Abby.  The thing that i stiil carry with me is on all the tables in the cafateria and throughout the main building was a little white folded cardboad sign that said; “Silence is spoken here.”

Peace
michael

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Merton wanted God. I have no reason to doubt that he got what he wanted.

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I call up my older woman friend who as usual sounds like hell. She is a gifted astrologer. She'll do my reading for free but I want her to wear a disc. She wants to know how they work. I can't tell her how they work. They're magic. They work. What else does she need to know? She already knows that Ray studied Tesla for ten years and has just sent me a book about him. I fight with her. She relents. She wants a disc. I don't call Ray. The next day he calls me. He'll be in town for a job interview. Should he drop in? Bring a disc. Would he like to see Iao Valley and go to the Zen class? He would. He finds the valley filled with ghosts and for a long time sits on a rock in the stream trying to set them free. We grab a bite to eat and arrive late, the place dark and deserted, not a single light or vehicle, but the doors to the zendo are open. I am taking a look inside when Yoshi appears and I introduce him to the mad genius. Ray spellbinds him with a brilliant if over the top exposition and Yoshi agrees to wear a disc for the meditation. Afterwards he notes how the time passed in a flash. Ray has already told me twice how he saved the election from being rigged in McCain's favor by psychically dismantling the computer programs. Yoshi is starting to look a little distant as he listens to this. I've had enough. Something prompts me to ask Yoshi how much private meditation he does. None. Cool.

I'm going to give you a disc, Yoshi. There is a vacuum here that makes me feel right at home. The looniness comes built in. Everything else you pay for.

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Digging in the intense heat through a small storage area cluttered with old boxes of invoices, computer monitors, artificial Christmas trees and wreaths maddeningly entangled in their lights, and all manner of junk, to the sound of rats scittering overhead on the metal roof, I reached in the relative cool at the end of the day the last double layer of stacks. On top of them was a careless pile of art. It wasn't for the art that I had been assigned the job but the boxes. I wasn't much interested in the boxes, nor indeed most of the art, but there was one piece of considerable interest, valuable and fortunately undamaged. What made it so erotic was the beauty of the woman's body, the casualness of her pose and the unabashed central focus on her abundantly adorned privates. There was no view of her face nor of much below her waist. Significantly, there was no view of her face.

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In David Halberstam's The Coldest Winter, an eerie silence in the mountains and weird bagpipe music before the massacre at night by the overwhelming presence of the Chinese in North Korea, denied against all evidence to the contrary at the highest levels of the American military.

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What if the final meaning of Shakepeare's Hamlet is the opening of the heart? Critical research has established curious and deliberate reverberations in the play from the death of Shakespeare's son Hamnet. What was behind Shakespeare's grief?

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William Hazlitt comments in reference to Iago in Othello that the love of power is the love of mischief. Kinda sums it all up, don't it?

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The word came to me and I lost it. Shifted. I could write about that incident, minor though it was, because something shifted. And then the word came back. On occasion the universe goes out of its way to show you a rare courtesy, or a series of them, as though trying correct a nasty paradigm that made perfect sense but is nevertheless wrong. I go around and around with this thing like laundry in a dryer. I am threatened. I must wake up. I never realize until too late what is right in front of me. And then people go ridiculously of their way to be kind. It's a farce. The universe is flat out playing games with me. On the spur of the moment I throw some boxes into my car for a quick run to the dump. I am about to make a left turn off the highway through a brief gap in the oncoming traffic when the truck coming out makes its turn right in front of me. Aside from illegal, it is unbelievably rude. You jerk, I say quietly in disbelief. I make my turn into the dump only to find that it has just closed and sit for some time staring at the sign with its varying daily schedules. When I return to the highway my friend is still sitting in the center feed lane. He who was in such a rush has been waiting all this time for me. He honks and waves. He knows what he did was really bad. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.  

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Sooner or later you are confronted with the question, what was the purpose of your life? Authenticity.

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By unanimous consent, with the probable exception of Yoshi, I have been kicked out of the zendo. None of the members use it. Why should I? My friend tells me there is another place just around the corner. Why didn't she tell me this before? I could swear she said there wasn't.

I finally realize that I do not want to get back together again with my ex. We're still friends. 

What else terminated today? Oh yeah. This thing with my mother. I will not let her get away with it anymore. We're not friends.

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My ex isn't buying my act anymore. Last chance before I become a monk! Last chance! Silence. She sends me a completely unrelated e-mail. Well, at least she got the message. I love you forever and all that. I really don't want to get back together again with her. She's a friend. A true friend.

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Peace and a warm hug to you, friend!

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Thank you, Sparrow!

I have the worst cold ever. I am exhausted from coughing. It's always like this when I see Amma. Late in the night of Devi Bhava I am waiting in line for darshan when a woman security guard very politely asks me to open my jacket. People have reported seeing me with a metal pipe. This is absurd. It is true that I had thought about taking a metal pipe to a certain couple who tried to murder me a while back. Amma has ways of extracting these things.

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It all feels like curling up with a patchwork blanket of rich, rich proze. Yummmm. Yes, Amma - as all unconditional love - does have a detoxing effect. Good riddens, and congratulations, Ram. Your resilient immunesystem is growing ever stronger & vibrant while life is sorting itself out for you, effortlessly. Just like Chopra your newly appointed non-gurulike guru says: “Nature's intelligence works with effortless ease” in the Seven Laws of Spiritual Success. 

Just might return soon and curl up here again. Thank you, Ram, for drawing up this space to observe your observations in wonder and delight.

In Loving Light,
Nell ;-)

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offering tissues, homemade soup, and a soothing backrub

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Thanks, dear friends.

We are coming to the end of a long five hour flight from San Francisco to Maui. I am very sick. I cough nonstop. Most of the time I doze, stretched out along the three seats I have to myself, but occasionally I look briefly at the movie screen, repulsed by its silliness. Just as we are beginning our descent in the darkness to Maui, something completely different begins. A strange character is on some kind of odyssey through the American southwest. He stops at exactly the place by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere you would want to go into and explore, and rummages through some old tapes. There is a glimpse of Dylan. Is this possible? I used to go on extended drives through the southwest listening to Dylan. The film is a homage to Dylan. What makes even a brief glimpse of him so different from the tripe that has been playing for hours?

I talked about Dylan briefly with my friends at San Ramon. Did I really like him? Had I really rejected him? I never got further than stating my intense ambivalence. No one understands. You can see God and you can hear God even where God is concealed.

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I go to the campsite early to get some sleep. I have never seen so many cars. Were they waiting until I left? I lie down and start coughing. This is the deepest depth of misery. I'll drink it to death.  It's dark and the cars have gone. Nothing can touch me now. I have reached an epiphany. I address out loud the women I have loved. Eve, it was your beauty. Mary, your genius. Loretta, your devotion. Victoria, your sweetness. I have recovered my will to live. I go back into town to eat. Alkaline, that's what I need. It was the acid foods that did me in. I devour a fish platter. I'll do alkaline when I feel like it.

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Smart man, King Tut, honoring his respective Queens.

Witnessing a profound transformation here. Salutations to the power of Love that is flushing you clean. And to the life giving power of the Green GoddS Alkaline.  And to the fish that give up its life just to nourish you. 

This is the deepest depth of misery. I'll drink it to death. Wonder what you were drinking… seems to have worked! Do you know btw that fresh lemon in tea or water at night is a great alkalizer too? Or a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar 2x daily.

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Beer. Kills the pain but not the cold. I called a friend this morning and went straight out and got what she recommended. It helped. I'm going to do the same thing right now. Lemons. Thanks.

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I finally go to the doctor. I have a lower lung infection. As soon as I take the antibiotics I start to feel better. What if I hadn't got them? Would I cough until I die? The doctor, a woman half my age, is very good. She draws a connection between my condition and my smoking. So do I. But I don't smoke anymore, ha ha. Not at all. No connection with her on a personal level. Her eyes do not meet mine. Cake makeup masks a minor complexion problem. I discern that her problem is not her complexion but her isolation. Sick as I am, I am healthier than she. I would heal her if I could.

I am so sick I lose things. Yesterday it was my keys. Today my mala. I nearly went beserk looking for my keys. I am feeling extremely exposed standing in the darkness with a towel wrapped around me beside the open car door about to take my morning bath, when I feel the keys drop dumbly from my hand. I cannot find them. In the morning light forty-five minutes later I find them in the deep grass just behind where I was standing.

The mala is not so life threatening, but how could I have lost it? Amma had blessed it and put it over my head. In a daze I left the temple to join my friends for lunch. That wasn't what I wanted. I went back and did my mantra. Why do I bother? What has doing my mantra ever done for me? Amma is looking at me. It will be different now. After work I drive back to the campsite to look for it in the light. There it is on the ground, coiled like a priceless necklace. I sit and do my mantra. Shadows fall from the tree trunks. Surfers are watching the waves. Maybe I'm a surfer too.

I didn't know how much I loved Maui. I froze my ass off in San Ramon.

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i hope you feel better soon.

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Sick as I am, I am healthier than she. I would heal her if I could.

Touches me. Perhaps in some way you are healing her.
Touches on a huge area, of how 'being sick' (in body) has such stigma - and in most spiritual groups is considered to be a 'bad' thing.
And yet, healing often has very little to do with the body. I love Stephen Levine's work on this.

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Thanks, guys. I need to check out Stephen Levine's work again.

I call up my older woman friend. We have history. Nonromantic. She's like a mother. I can talk to her. She says we have a past life connection. I'm not sure whether I believe it or not. She has no doubt. She saw it. I was her chained sex slave. I murdered her. Oddly, it bears a remarkable similarity to the only other past life glimpse afforded to me by the shaman who did my soul retrieval. I was a warden in a dungeon for religious prisoners. I can trace repercussions from such scenes in my present life. I decide to call my mother. It would be nice to have a decent conversation with her.
 
She asks me about my trip. It was just fine. I got very sick. What did Amma say about your being a monk? She didn't say anything. She didn't respond at all? She gave me a second hug. My mother finds that ridiculous. I spend all that money and get really sick and Amma gives me a second hug. Am I planning on seeing her again? You don't get it, Mum. Alright then, explain it. Okay, I will. Amma has divine consciousness. I do not want rebirth. My mother has read Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. What do I think of Elizabeth Gilbert? I think she has a very high state of consciousness. Well, my mother liked that book. So there. You need to get on with your life. Your first grade teacher said you would be some kind of artist. When is that going to happen?

I do not tell my mother about being busted for carrying a supposed metal pipe. I find it funny now. She wouldn't.

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I was her chained sex slave. I murdered her.

I was a warden in a dungeon for religious prisoners. I can trace repercussions from such scenes in my present life.

Again, feasting on contrasts.

“It would be nice to have a decent conversation with her.”
This is a bridge from “repercussions ” you mention earlier to what happens during the conversation.

In the conversation your 'I character” has and doesn't have with his mother, I read a reluctance to be subjected to her judgment. I wonder what the mother is really feeling as her son shares with her his experience with Amma and her expression of divine consciousness. I see a mother and her son reflecting their pain -rooted in feeling rejected - to and fro. I see a son, and his mother, in spite of their painful reflections, trying to connect. Very familiar.

Sitting through it with you.

Hugs,
Nell

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The doctor, a woman half my age, is very good.

She draws a connection between my condition and my smoking. So do I. But I don't smoke anymore, ha ha. Not at all.

Her eyes do not meet mine. Cake makeup masks a minor complexion problem.

I discern that her problem is not her complexion but her isolation.

Sick as I am, I am healthier than she. I would heal her if I could.

Love the contrasts you are painting here. It's poetic, could even be a song.

Then I'm taken along on a sensory trip through darkness, light, grass, ground and waves along with feverish thoughts and actions.

The next two lines pull everything back together, generously fulfilling the zest for contrast you invoked in me earlier: I didn't know how much I loved Maui. I froze my ass off in San Ramon.

Thank you for your colorful expressions. Honor your forgiving body, Ramsses. Rest up!

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“I am so sick I lose things.”
This carries such wieght in so few words.  A whole story really, at least it feels that way to me. i feel it in my belly.

Peace and Love my friend,
michael

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From Eye Wisdom by Swami Ramakrishnananda Puri:

“There is a temple in Chidambaram, Tamil Nadu, that highlights the expansive vision of Sanatana Dharma. In that temple, instead of having God's darshan through the viewing of an idol, one actually enters into God. There is a physical space in the temple - akasha linga - that itself is considered God manifest. So one enters the room and literally enters God, walks through God, breathes God, feels the mystery that is God inside and out. The temple is a teaching about God's all-pervasive nature.”

Folks, that's a serious temple.

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She was very angry with me for killing that mouse. Why did you do it, she demanded. Because I'm evil, I said. She brought it up again the following day. She has been reading a book I loaned her. Amma teaches kindness to animals. Don't you know that? Oh for Christ's sake. I get called in to get rid of the mouse. We all tried to get it to run out the door. It wouldn't. If it gets crushed under the edge of the jar, so be it. But I saw you push the jar down on it! Right. And I've captured other mice and let them go. I did not wish to kill it.

I drive her home at the end of the day. I tell her that my recent illness was one of the worst things I've ever experienced. Oh, then you've never really been sick, she says.

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If you don't realize the source, you stumble in confusion and sorrow. When you realize where you come from, you naturally become tolerant, disinterested, amused, kindhearted as a grandmother, dignified as a king. Immersed in the wonder of the Tao, you can deal with whatever life brings you, and when death comes, you are ready.

                                                                               - Tao Te Ching

And you tell me this now?

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If not now, when? When reading, “And you tell me this now?” who can resist?

Reading this taoist teaching fills me with joy. It is said that timing is everything, and it is also said that time in itself is a made up thing. As we create our own reality both must be true. I wonder if King Tut is ready to integrate the Tao teachings posted here. I believe he can. Ooooooooh, the possiblities are endless here. Can hardly wait to read what comes next.

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Yes, the timing interesting. I just got a driver's licence with a photo that looks decent. Apparently I've been exorcised. After years, even my blood pressure is normal. 

What's going on? Very weird. 

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Yesterday I had occasion to talk to the creator of the miraculous Vog Tea I have been drinking. He was just back from promoting it on the Big Island, where vog, or volcano fumes, has become a serious respiratory problem for many people. I think both of us were quite pleasantly shocked by what we learned from each other, me, to discover just how long and hard he had worked to achieve his creation, he, to discover someone who had received such a profound healing from it. I told him how I had started smoking pot for a brain tumor, the incessant coughing that would awaken me in my sleep when I finally quit smoking, and the crowning result of a lower lung infection. To be well again is a miracle.

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And today I spoke with my other healer friend, creator of magic discs and stargate devices, cosmic Ray. He is so far out, I finally had to say to him, look, I know you're are a genius but you're also mad. He laughed. You have to mad, he said. He's right. You have to be mad to be that kind of genius.

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This quote from fellow Mad Man Pablo Picasso (1881 - 1973) confirms your truth:
 
Everything you can imagine is true

This kind of forward thinking encourages one to let go of belief systems and instead dare to believe in ALL possiblities

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From my letter to a friend:

I really should explain the Pharaoh thing. I was in hell for so long, I had to get out. The brain tumor nearly got me out. I nearly died from it. Pot got me out. For whatever mysterious reason, brain injuries and pot have been known to conjure up Ancient Egypt. So it was for me. I went with it as my healing process. Better to be a king than a slave. Pharaoh is the Atman, the soul or God in everyone. So I don't think I'm special.

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okay. I just have to tell you about this because it is pretty freaky to me and today so far has been a day of synchronicity.

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Thanks. Ramana Maharshi was/is God Incarnate. Check him out.

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Thank you Ramsses.

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It's far out but you feel the energy and take a gamble. It works. It transforms your life. You get a bigger one. There are two others but you have the best. How many discs are you going to walk around with? You start hanging out with the guy. He's so far out, it's beyond belief. Aliens. UFOs. Illuminati. He's from another planet. Literally. His father, a very conservative medical doctor in very conservative Switzerland, wears the discs religiously. He has healed patients of serious diseases with the StarGate Lights. You spent the day painting a roof under a hot sun and ate cookies for lunch. You are completely wasted. You lie there listening to yet more stories of miraculous healings. I'll try the other two, okay? You put one in each pocket and float away.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

E Ho’okupu Mai ~~ Calling Forth the Gifts through sharing Lokahi, Unity as Diversity in prayer, song, ceremony, ritual, talk story, drumming, music, dance, healing and the voices of wisdom keepers.

A heiau is an old Hawaiian temple, in this case, a roughly square, low wall of stones around a lawn on a high ridge overlooking the ocean, with newly planted saplings at intervals along the wall. Lei’ohu Ryder had been guided by Spirit to this remote location, and restored it with much labor and the help of others to its original condition. There was an incredibly beautiful altar in the shape of a tadpole fractal in a rock formation with a bed of pebbles running through the center, left by its curators just as it was found.

The ceremony lasted six hours. I was neither tired nor hungry. Ray gave one of his discs to Ram Dass, who enthusiastically received it. As we were leaving, a woman who had just arrived bossily demanded to be told about the ceremony. I mentioned the names of the speakers. She was strangely disagreeable and familiar but I couldn’t recognize her. She gave her card to Ray. I knew her.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Ram Dass told of visiting his brother, Leonard, in the mental hospital. Leonard said, I want you to know that I’m God. Ram Dass replied, I’m God too. Leonard said, No, you’re not. I am. Ram Dass replied, That’s why you’re in the hospital.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Yesterday’s ceremony was so positive, I went back for the second today, scheduled for three hours. I left a half hour early, when Lei’ohu Ryder invited us to get up and dance. It wasn’t so much that I am extremely unfomfortable dancing as that her narration of racism growing up Hawaiian, in response to the questions, Why are there so few native Hawaiians here, and, Do they have ceremonies of their own, triggered me. Her disclosure that most native Hawaiians deeply resent haoles came as a shock. I was so attracted to the place, I had already signed up to help maintain the heiau, but the realization that I would be unwelcome at a native Hawaiian ceremony took the blush from the romance.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

A friend wrote:

Good story - and yes you encountered the backlash from the times when the missionaries planted thorn bushes so they couldn’t be barefoot, and forced the natives to wear clothes, and then got them to sign away their land when they didn’t even read. They basically took the islands by holding their queen imprisoned in her home. So the descendents of the original natives are mixed blood and confused about their medicine. Aloha.You are fortunate not to run into those who demand that the land be signed back over to the natives, and then hurry up the deaths of the land owners. I would just be glad you were part of the restoration and leave it at that. Haole means “those without breath” because the missionaries prayed with their heads bowed. At least you can stand strong and pray upright! Breathe and sing and let your God be one with All.

My reply:

Everybody gets crucified. Are they any bloodier than me? Aloha.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

I lie in stillness, in the regression
The surprise was yet mine too
The blood on my feet
Looked so familiar
As I awoke in the cave
 
Knowing it was
And what would be
The blood a symbol
Of generousity and love
 
We all go there
To that cave
To that place
 
For we are all one.
When peace becomes
 
All one.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Welcome!

Re: The Revelations of Tut

It’s been eight or nine years since I’ve seen Gangaji and Eli. I knew they were coming to Maui but I hadn’t checked the dates and I could have kicked myself when I discovered I had missed Gangaji’s public programs. In disbelief I reread the poster in the window. But no. There was one program left before the five-day retreat, with Eli alone, at the Rinzai Zen center I had been kicked out of. This would be interesting. I caught a glimpse of Yoshi walking away as I ascended the steps to the temple I had never entered before. Had he seen me? Was he angry?
 
We had a few minutes of meditation when Eli entered, his wonderful presence filling the room. He beautifully told the story of the origins of Rinzai Zen, which means spontaneous enlightenment. A completely uneducated woodcutter in ninth century Japan had an enlightenment experience hearing a recitation of the Diamond Sutras in the marketplace. He went to the local monastery where they put him to work in the kitchen. Some years later, the patriarch held a competition for the writer of the best koan to succeed him upon his death. Everyone knew that the top student at the monastery from the best family in the city would win. He won. His koan was posted. The woodcutter asked someone to read it to him. He composed his own. It was written for him and posted alongside the winning koan. The patriarch called him to his room in secret, bestowed upon him the transmission of succession, his mantle and his staff, and told him to run for his life or he would be killed. The woodcutter lived for many years with hunters until he was ready to teach.
 
Yoshi entered the temple after this story had been told and Eli expressed his regret that he had not been there to hear it. I was surprised by Yoshi’s restlessness. He did not stay for the program but could be seen politely and quietly engaged in other business. Did he not realize the stature of his guest? Or had he got the message already? Stop the search. Drop into Absolute Being. I am intrigued by this dispensation that is not my own. There is something unearthly about it. As well there should be. The people who come up to the stage to sit beside Eli are like the souls of the dead conversing with God. God is a grand old man who has all the answers and puts them at ease. It is not my place to go up. I am of another tribe. The last time I saw Eli, after a brilliant smile of acknowledgment, he negotiated around me like an enormous whale delicately passing its entire bulk without contact. So it was again.
 
When the program ended, I slipped out the side door and met Yoshi on the walkway. Here was my old friend. You shouldn’t have let that old hag drive you away, he told me. I’m the one in charge here. He was suffering terribly from his allergies. I told him I would get him a disc. I’ll be back at the zendo.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

This piece moved me chris. It somehow feels incredibly familiar, although i do not know how or why.  basically i felt connected from the start but this part in particular reached deeper:

The people who come up to the stage to sit beside Eli are like the
souls of the dead conversing with God. God is a grand old man who has
all the answers and puts them at ease. It is not my place to go up. I
am of another tribe.

I find it amazing that we can be in the Presence of people of great maginitude and commitment and still know we are not fo the same tribe- no judgment or anyting. Just another tribe.  thank you fro the reminder and the ride on your journey.

Peace
michael

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Yes. Perhaps each of us is a tribe unto its own.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

why subscribe
to any one tribe
when love is
everything
and everything
is love

Re: The Revelations of Tut

But to be there.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Yes!

Re: The Revelations of Tut

What I meant to say
is why subscribe
to only one tribe
when love is
everything
and everything
is love

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Got it, hon.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Eli mentioned how fortunate are those who even have the opportunity to wake up. Most don’t. This sunk home deeply. My parents used to enrage me. There is good Mom and there is bad Mom. I never know which one I’m going to get. I don’t care anymore. Today it’s bad Mom. It starts out innocently enough and then it subtly builds momentum. A relentless and insane insinuating negativity.
 
 
 
Are you still writing on the forum?
 
No.
 
Why not?
 
I don’t feel like it.
 
Why don’t you feel like it?
 
I just don’t feel like it.
 
You just don’t feel like it.
 
 
 
Answering questions is like dropping something into a hole. It may be lost forever. It surprises me that she hears anything at all. Am I eating properly? Actually, now that I’ve finally figured out that I have a wheat and dairy intolerance, I’m doing just fine. Well, I hope you’re eating lots of fish. Oh, sure. In fact, I had fish for breakfast. No point mentioning that I got it out of the dumpster. She wouldn’t understand. It’s bad enough that I don’t even miss hot showers since I started bathing in the ocean and the stream.
 
 
 
Well, it’s very odd.

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Good mom, bad mom. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. And then there is the smothering mom who just has the concept of caring as in worrying all in one micro-chip implanted by a culture that is mass hypnotized by fear. Odd indeed how good intentions can end up feeling like torture. Especially when the recipient of the smothering questionnaire seems to be triggered by the same thing(s) as his mother.

I am with you. Truly caring. And truly not caring at all. Free.  Smiling at the image of devouring delicious fish out of the dumpster. Fishy though, perfectly fishy. Unshowered. Gamy. Bathed in ocean and stream. Truly bad ;-D

Re: The Revelations of Tut

Odd indeed.

It is interesting to me that i lied to my mother about anything she asked my when i was in my teens an twenties to hide all that i was doing harm to self.  The i lied in my 30s to hide what i was doing which was supportive of whom i was since she wouldn’t  get it.  No i lie to myself since she passed on.  Interesting how this works.

Thanks chris.

Peace
michael