Pure Springs of Boredom

[Guest guest]

Being bored out of my pumpkin....

 

OK, so Guru has conversed with the Queen for a year, about how bad things

are for the little people across the Ocean, and now he's moved into the

Kings quarters, where it's kindof dry and sunny, and he's gonna talk to the

King. Of course, he has to wait a few weeks, til the big guy gets there, but

soon they're gonna have a meeting.

 

So in his last few weeks, Saddam is hanging out in a girlfriends bedroom,

but time is really short.

 

Jupiter in Guru is great, because, he's a very masculine character now in a

very masculine sign. Aspects his own action sign with his angle glance

(drishti) of "creative intelligence and sport". That's major. Armies

become more crafty and tricky. Gurus worldwide get inspiration on how to

push on their plans. It's a time of action after a time of counself and

consideration...things start to improve, hop, change, slow things get going,

and with good new direction from recent deliberations of the last year.

 

And with Mars coming closer than he's cared to since humans were invented,

it should be quite a show. Mars coming close corresponding with Sun and Guru

in Leo. Uhhh...get some sunglasses ready and hang onto your umbrella, make

sure it's able to withstand falling UV rays backed by good intentions and

fighting religious lions.

 

I'm not totally serious, but "do you see what I see"

 

Like when I was a nostril damning us, better to speak in weird poems than

direct whoa is us-ages.

 

Yesterday I met the Swami who is the current lineage holder of the Tulsi Das

seat, where he wrote Ramayan. Interesting. Good pizza served. The guy looked

like he was straight out of Sainthood to San Jose. Gems in the Hindu Ghetto.

We all took pictures. Fun. Nobody can talk, but we all know what we're

saying. For all of our languages, we can't communicate. For all of our

Native Tongues, we're all Natives here. How can we stop crying, when the

shrieks of the unjustly dead are always in our ears. (What does that have to

do with it?) Nothing. Just provocative, which I like to be.

 

Hello...hello...anybody out there?

 

(I'm practicing for short wave radio transmissions from a dark basement

after a nuclear holocaust.)

 

I'm in a room with a very old Indian woman who can't speak English, who is

staring at her prayer cards in Sanskrit CONSTANTLY anticipating the big

change, and her son is watching Christian preachers on TV, and I'm writing

to you, whoever you are, and sometimes trying to point out that White people

had a Hinduism all there own once upon a time.

 

Recently I wanted crow feathers. I was so sad, I thought, OK, I will embrace

the crow, and not avoid his message. But I always want everything in 9. 9

this, 9 that, as I like 9- dharma, god, truth.

 

So I'm riding home on my bike from somewhere nine-ish, and below and behold

on the ground, a crow feather. I look over and see 3 crows, and I yell

"Morrigan, hell-oh", and they fly away. I look around, and find they left me

nine feathers. Now these are atop my "danda", my Irish druid staff.

 

So if you meet me (veg me), it will be a "staff meeting" as well, because

you'll have to meet my staff too, and the crow feathers.

 

I figure if you carry Saturn around, then he won't jump on you from afar.

 

The crows are the messengers of Morrigan, Odin, Woden, and Yama. To me, that

sounds like "friend", not "enemy".

 

The next morning, I exited my house, and the first thing I saw, was those

three crows, sitting on three old wooden pile posts outside my door, staring

at me, and that's just fine, perfect. I said "kaw kaw" (Crow for hello,

uncle in Gujarati), and they flew away. A few days later I was here with my

Gujarati uncles, and they said hello to my crow feathers.

 

Seeing the staff, the Swami said "you must be a worshipper of nature, and I

love the nature here, the Redwoods, I love walking in the Redwoods with bare

feet".

 

He loves our Redwood California Coast, we love his Varanasi in Himalaya. He

loves us, we love him. Kaka is poop, uncle or hello, depending on how your

mother spoke to you when you were little.

 

Being an Irish Druid, I live in all these bodies successively. It's very

tiring and exhilerating.

 

Rosemerta or Durga, pray and get wife. I can't, as I think, you know me, I

love you and serve you, I'm getting tired waiting, I'd rather write nonsense

than do your name japa, and how long are you going to selfishly punish me

for being exactly the way you made me?

 

OK, so you're burning me at the stake so that like a rooster my crys will

awaken the village? OK, from one life to the next, it's OK, we don't die,

we just are reborn to cry then fly.

 

Anybody up yet? I'm really bored of typing alone here.

 

 

 

Hi Francoise! and thanks....

 

 

 

roik mach'ai

 

son of the fire clann of donnegal, and the highlands, shaking hands to

defeat greedy armies of misled athletes