The Bulb : Students of Inner Peace

you tell me of your god
your god that draws lines in the desert
and says “this is Holy Land” and “That is Not…”
your god that says, “you must pronounce my name This Way, not That Way…”
your god that says, “here is my Book of Rules that you must live by…”
and you say that your god is Big and Is Everything and Knows Everything.
I listen to this and I shake my head, and I say,
Sorry, your god is too small for me.

you tell me of your god
your god that makes the decree of marriage sacred,
marriage that allows a man to abuse his wife and child,
your god that decries homosexuality and pre-marital sex,
your god that despises birth control and abortion,
but loves abandoned women raising children in abject poverty.
I listen to this and I shake my head, and I say,
Sorry, your god is too small for me.

you tell me of your god
that lives in a temple but hates the mosque
that lives in the mosque and hates the synagogue,
that lives in the synagogue but hates the church,
that promises heaven after we die
if we live by the rules, stipulations and laws
written, edited and argued by thousands of men.
I listen to this and I shake my head, and I say,
Sorry, your god is too small for me.

you say your god is big;
I say your mind is small.
And your mind, with its faulty and fragile ego
will never comprehend one crumb of the Infinite.
Your “god” fits conveniently in your mind,
but you have abandoned your own heart.
Sorry, your god is too small for me.

Who are you, you who are reading this post?

Are you a visitor, a stranger, a dog at the door, a crumb in the kitchen, a flame in the tinder-box forest of Love?

Are you a One-Night Stand, a Toothless Old Lady, a Bottle-Washer from Winnipeg, a Mohawk-Hair Earing Studded Leper of the U2 Colony of Extended Liberation?

Are you really Who You Are?

Are you AwArE?

of the Hardware that Certifies you as “Human” …?

of the Software that upgrades your Heart to the Silent Flame of Life, dancing in Fragility deep in the Cavern of your Inner Breath?

of the Extended Shelf-Life that you’re Living, defying the Pain of Breathing, the Obstacle of the Ancient Hill-Climb, the Marathon of the Eternally-Dying-Dog, running in the Heat of the Night?

Who are you,  you who are reading this post?

A lost Lizard in a Day-Care Center for Dinosaurs?
A Standing Tribute to all the Gay Singers of the Roaring 40′s?
A Plush Popsicle,  waiting to melt in the mid-day Sun?
A Jehova’s Witness, standing “Naked-For-Jesus” at the Door of Eternal Life?

Does God inhabit your Genitals… or is your “thinking” all above the 49th Parallel?
Are you Decaffeinated, or Simply Relaxed in your own Shoes?

Can you feel Peace in the Tentative Strings of your own Heartbeat?
Can you Hear the Vast River of Angels in the caverns of your “indoor plumbing” …?
Can you slide back the Sun-Roof and eject yourself into the Stratosphere, comfortably, quietly, without activating your Air Bags, your Nagging Housewives, or your Dumb, Eternally-Barking Inner Guard-Dog, who has ruined many Staff Picnics on your own behalf … ?

Who are you, who is reading this post?

Yourself a Poster?  A Toaster?  A Hostmaster?  Nutcracker? Sailor-Boy?  Country-Girl?  Breaker of Fish-cakes and purveyor of Manna from the Heavens?  Have you let your little girls and boys out to play?   Where, pray tell, is your playground?

Lost again, forgot the trail of Breadcrumbs.  Forgot the home buried deep in the woods.  Disowned and forsook your own Forest, your own Sacred Trees, your pure and unspoiled rivers.  For the sake of  ”Candy”.  Expensive Candy.  No Dentist, no Teeth, no Wisdom, no Food of any worldly kind will ever stop this incessant craving of the heart for that Infinite Candy not known to any scripture.

Who are you, who is reading this post?

Can you truly read, and taste the lines of silver and gold between the stupid Times New Roman, or are you caught up in the dance of words, intellect and pride.  There is no recycling plant that will handle that stuff.  It is yours to sip until you fall drunk into your own mortality.

One tiny Diamond in the Garbage Dump, and the Human Life is made Noble.

And the rest falls gently, as Oceans once again make their Claim …

I & You
We see Me Through
We build Skies of Blue
I & Me & You

You & Me
We see what we See
We Be, We Three
I & You & Me

You, Me & I
We Journey Thru the sky
We Try & Die & Fly
You & Me & I

I & You & Me & Us
Journey along on this Magic Bus
Don’t make much of a Nasty Fuss
I & You & Me & Us

You and I
Continue to Cry
Tears of Joy in One Eye
You & I
You & I

Some people tell me, “We choose our parents before we are born..”

The idea behind this is, “stop blaming them and learn the lessons they were meant to teach you, and move on!”

The whole thing seems aimed at the foundational piece of work we call “accountability” – meaning, let go blaming externals for your circumstance, and address the only real changes you can make – changes to your self.

So, all in all, a good call, but a strange belief system to get there.

So, if I can indeed choose my parents before I was born, that implies some kind of “catalog” system, where you can choose from a variety of models. Perhaps, “blond or brunette”? Perhaps, “Hungarian or Australian”? Perhaps “angry, moody, creative vodka-drinkers” as opposed to “camouflaged, repressed, white anglo-saxon protestants”?

It’s amazing what this “catalog of parents” might have looked like. Let’s back up here a bit: there’s many assumptions that would have to be in place to “buy in” to this little belief system, akin to the leap we need to make to “buy in” to any religion.

Since we’re “choosing” our parents, this decision-making process must require some kind of brain activity, such as the ability to perceive, see or sense the choices; then the discernment, judgment or intuition needed to make the correct choice, based on the lessons we need to learn; therefore memory cells that hold the lesson plan as well. So, it seems a “brain” of some kind would be needed, long before conception took place, in order to sift through these possibilities and weigh them out.

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Yesterday, I quit watching TV.

Officially.

I got this great “communications” package a few months back from one of our local magnanimous Communications Giants.  Phone, internet and TV all for a ridiculous price.  How kind of them.

It even includes a “Personal Video Recorder”, which hums incessantly in the background of my apartment.  Apparently, you can use this device to record the little gems you missed on the 500-channel universe, while you were too busy wasting your time with other distractions.

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I see the future.

Everyone will have a blog. Every blogger’s pet will have a blog. Every blog will have a blog. Every blog’s blog will a have a blog. No one will be reading any of these blogs because everyone will be too busy writing blogs. Bloggers will occasionally visit other blogs, but only for the purpose of leaving comments that will direct readers back to their own blog. Letter writing will become popular once again, gaining a new lease on life after the internet crashes repeatedly because of the profusion of blogs and youtube videos created by 5-year olds and terrorist groups.

Why all the blogging?

Because people want to connect. And WHY do people want to connect? Because there is a fundamental need inside each of us to feel connected.

“Connected to WHAT?” is the question. Connected to ourselves.

Bottom line, for each of us to feel truly wired, we need to connect with ourselves. Then, and only then, does it make sense to connect with others.

Otherwise, all our efforts to connect will be fundamentally flawed — tinged with the slightly neurotic need for approval and completion — neither of which are really necessary once we master the fine art of tapping into who we really are in the first place.

And speaking of the future — high rises are out. Blog cabins are in.

(Excerpted from The Heart of the Matter)

I’ve attended numerous events with Maharaji over the last 33 years. That’s a long time. Listen: this is the longest and best relationship I’ve ever had with anybody in my whole life.

Why?

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I chose parenting later in life.

My first-born is a pidgeon. He resides on my balcony.

He actually has 2 ‘real’ parents, but they don’t spend much time here anymore. Perhaps – given that the tedious days of egg-sitting are over – they’ve gone south to Vegas to party and forget for a while.

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Ok….this morning I was sent an email advertisement which wanted me to step right up and buy some peace of mind. And I thought to myself, ” This is peace of mind? hmmmm…. say what?”

Am I the only one who missed it? Did you know that peace of mind can be shopped for, bought at the local super market, shopping mall, or the drug store ?

Maybe it comes in capsule form and I just didn’t see it. Was it in that wine bottle, or maybe down the cereal aisle? If it was, I didn’t feel it.

And what do you suppose it costs? A few quarters………one dollar…. ten?  Can anybody afford it, or is it only for the elite, the wealthy? Does it work instantly or is it time- released ?  Is it for real or are you ripping me off?

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Whenever a person who has received Knowledge from Maharaji tries to describe their relationship to him, they usually end up using one of the following five words: student, devotee, follower, friend, or premie.

I’m sure you’ve heard at least a few of these words before in one context or another.

Each of them describes an aspect of my relationship to Maharaji, but only an aspect.

None of them describes the whole shebang. In fact, each of these words has been known to confuse, distract, or repel since each one carries a kind of cultural baggage.

Allow me to explain.

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