The Funny Little f(R)iend

[Guest guest]

Conditioning, what a trip, eh? Talk about trips, and trippy trips at

that, I take my hat off to the Head-trip Meister Mind who could

divinely comedically chase Itself-sprouted tail by incline-reckoning

in a belief that I could deceive the guru, myself, and ultimately,

any form of the SadGuru.

 

Does the stone know its show and tell in earth telemetry?

 

(I had to stop, not remembering exactly what telemetry even means, and

by means beyond my recognizable schemes of perfecting dreams, google

gave up the goog, and le meaning came forth) - Te`lem´e`try Noun, 1.

telemetry - automatic transmission and measurement of data from

remote sources by wire or radio or other means ...

 

I'm going for "other means," indeed...

 

This circuitous tale is actually attempting to go somewhere.

I swear!

 

In the eighties when I was fully involved with regular, deep

meditation, I also was fully involved with regular, deep, herbal leaf

smoking. Knowing the SRF view on this 'don't do' of the don't do's,

practice, (the smoking, not the meditation) I devised a method, a

head-trip trick of thinking that if I didn't think about my guru

while I was smoking, he would not know what I was up to. Yeah, right,

and good try, girlfriend. Ahem.

 

But I tried it, tried to act like I didn't know him from Adam, (my

mother used to say this weird thing about Adam, don't know why) while

I partook of the hookah-wookah. WahHoo, way high and into denial...now

there's a high, eh guys! Waka-No-Waka...

 

But it didn't quite work out like I had planned and devised in my tidy

little mind's lying eyes. Should I have been surprised? Nah, I sort of

knew it was a matter of time before the party-line snapped and the

crap I was creating of dream-belief, guru-watching relief, would

reveal what it would reveal about being skilled at self-deception.

The connection for my dufus-delivered defection came in dream form.

Like a summer storm about to hit, this tadpole somehow knew that its

tools of trade were about to me made into frog's legs bent in eight

places. (Thanks, Ashtavakra, for the line!)

 

I dreamt I was huddled in a tin-roofed building. It contained nothing

at all and I was alone with my back to the door. I was bent over

secretively, huffing away like the day was about to display a

neon-neti sign that said, "Last call for orders."

 

Suddenly I felt someone watching me, someone right behind me,

immediate near me. "What's this," thought I, and not without a little

trepidation about truning around. Man oh man, I just knew that it was

Master. Disaster seemed imminent domain of what rained through my

frantically seeking for an out, contrivance of avoidance, mind. The

room shined brightly, like night had turned into day in a flash of

Light so white it dazzled and entranced, and this was the chance,

mind knocked off for a moment, and the glow and the bliss insisted

this, "Turn around and See. It is Me."

 

Turning and looking, there He was, Gurudeva, looking straight through

me, piercing through molecular and echoluar, galactic-matic

motionless motioning... and the Ocean of Compassion poured over and

in and as...As-If I and He had become OneHeart Alone, Existence-Am-I,

divined inconceivably Kind and without a hint of judgement of anything

at all...

 

Falling at the sacred feet of the form that reappeared as Master, the

sweetness of this understanding was incomparable. Trying to hide from

the Guru? Thinking that the Guru would not know all and every single

thought? The Tao of D'Oh always shows the Way.

 

This same experiential understanding was also extended to all realms

of my attempts to "hide," to hide what I had been conditioned to

believe was less than spiritual, less than yes...and this was the

blessing guest fed with the fruits of Union that gave up the old

notions of thinking that sexual thoughts, the naked body, and the

thought of the Guru could not possibly be held at the same time.

Finding that it was indeed, not a spiritual crime, not a punishable

offense, (except by the self-flagellation I gave myself, for no one

could beat me half as well as I could beat myself) to behold the

glowing prosad of the perfection of all these images, intertwined and

wined and dined at one table. To elaborate just a bit, I did not

entertain thoughts of a sexual nature about my guru, just sexual

thoughts in general.

 

So there it is, the show biz baby that made the way to caving in the

tent of timidity in taking everything to the Guru. God is entirely,

incredibly, Gracious, eh? Love Loves to Play, in every way.

 

 

LoveAlways,

 

Mazie

 

 

 

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