Sunday, March 20, 2011

A Doubtful Postscript

In relation to my last post on Transcending Language and Concepts in the Adidam Teachings, I've found some further discussion of the Facebook exchange between Elias and Greg Wells over at Elias' Lightmind Forum. From that forum I've found another link to a second Facebook exchange between Elias and Greg that seems to have preceded the previously posted one. It's not as juicy as the other exchange, but very, very preachy nonetheless on the part of Greg. [Update: I've found out that these discussions are in fact being posted by Elias in chronological order, the first being first, the second  being second, and apparently a third on its way.]

There's not as much to say about this second exchange, except when the subject of “doubt mind” is brought up by Greg to explain why Elias is not likely to be satisfied with the answers Greg gives to Elias' questions. Greg says:

Your question is you, as mind. Thus, it is about "you", not this Root Way of Reality Itself. You, as mind, will never be satisfied by any answer I give, because the root of mind is doubt. The mind can believe, but it cannot "see" Reality because it is itself the obstruction to noticing the Obviousness of Reality Itself. Thus, why not turn whole-bodily to the Avataric Human Revelation-Body of Adi Da Samraj, and "Fall Awake" in your Heart?

There are some fair points here, used rather dishonestly unfortunately. The fair point is that the mind is rooted in “doubt”. To be more accurate, the mind is rooted in separation. That's the “I”-thought, the ego, the sense of being separate from reality and thus trying to figure it out rather than simply being what we truly are. The mind thus includes the whole of the ego and its world, not just the verbal sense of mind and brain and so on. And true enough, the mind cannot know or see reality, because the mind is the result of separation. But this is also a narrow understanding of mind that does not account for the genuine basis for our awareness of mind, which is transcendental consciousness.

If mind is defined by thoughts and objects of thought, then true, mind is founded in ego, separation, and unconsciousness, and it cannot know reality. But by so defining “mind”, we run into the same problem I highlighted in the previous post about Da's use of the term “heart”. Namely, this defines mind by the very terms of separation that are the result of an illusion about our self-existence. Thus, it defines mind by the mind's own sense of illusion, rather than in reality. And it is in reality that the mind is understood to be transcendental divine awareness, and not the “I”-thought and the world the “I”-thought creates around itself.

If we think of “doubt” as the fundamental illusion of separation, then yes, the ego-mind is rooted in doubt, which is all the “I”-thought amounts to. But this only means that the illusion of separation is rooted in the illusion of separation, which is rather redundant, and actually points to the truth that separation has no actual basis in reality, but is merely a form of circular, self-defining illogic. What we call “mind” is not really what we think it to be at all. It is not, in reality, this mechanism of doubt and separation. It is transcendental awareness, free and open and continuous with all of existence. It is not defined by doubt, and it does not disappear when the illusion of separation and doubt is seen through. It is only ego-mind, or doubt-mind, that vanishes in realization, and our true mind is seen to have never been qualified by the ego's illusion of doubt.

So Greg is playing a bit of a trick on Elias here by saying “Your question is you, as mind.” He is defining Elias by this doubt-mind, rather than by affirming his real nature as transcendental awareness. This does not serve anyone. Telling someone they are “doubt-mind” does not liberate them. Telling them that they are transcendental awareness is what will liberate them. If Greg were to make clear that this sense of mind-identity is not who Elias really is, that would be one thing, but instead he is using this point as a pivot by which to gain power and authority in the conversation.

After all, isn't Greg using mind also here? If Elias' questions come from “mind”, then where do Greg's answers come from? Either Greg sees himself as coming from a place beyond mere doubt-mind, or he is just being doubt-mind also, and his answers are going to be unsatisfying regardless of Elias' receptivity. They are also going to be forms of subtle doubt, framed in the pseudo-religious language of faith, but actually only projections of inner doubt-mind. What seems to be happening in the conversation is that Greg is claiming some sort of special status for himself, as a devotee of Adi Da, who is able to transcend the limitations of “mind”, and bring to the conversation Adi Da's radical wisdom and teaching, which Elias ought to bow down to by surrendering his mind to this wisdom. But what Greg fails to notice is that his own grasp of Adi Da's teaching is itself largely a mental one, and Elias makes note of this at the end.

This is the kind of problem that often comes up when talking with fundamentalists, especially of the Daist variety. They don't seem terribly self-aware of their own ego-mind, and the tricks it plays on them. I'll be the first to acknowledge that the ordinary use of the mind tends to be filled with doubts. Da is right to point this out, and it's something we all need to be aware of. But being a devotee of Adi Da gives no one any special exemption status on this count. Being able to repeat the teachings of Adi Da by training the mind to remember his various catch phrases and capitalizations does not make the mind any less “doubtful” than before. In fact, it often merely adds another layer of self-delusion to the already difficult process of transcending the illusions of the mind.

In our ordinary state of egoic confusions, we of course have many doubts and questions. The First Noble Truth of Buddhism, which I think is pretty much the beginning and the end of all true spiritual teaching, is that conditional existence is “dukkha”, which means many things, but the primary meaning I get from it is “unsatisfying”. And the conditional mind is always unsatisfied and unsatisfiable. Likewise, all spiritual teachings which address the mind are unsatisfying, and there is no spiritual teaching which can ever satisfy the conditional mind. Fortunately, however, we are not the conditional mind, and thus, we are not limited to the language and concepts of spiritual teachings which describe and critique the conditional mind. We can stand beyond the doubt-mind, even as we critique it and let it voice its many doubts and questions, because in reality we are already beyond the doubt-mind. Thus, we can accept the conditional mind as it is, and not react to it or expect it to be satisfied. We even have to respect its need to understand itself, and to ask question and seek answers in the process. That is why spiritual teachings exist in the first place, to help those who are yet identified in one way or another with the conditional mind to find their way beyond it, and to know their real nature.

It is for this reason that spiritual teachers answer questions. Da himself spent much of his teaching years answering the questions of his students, over and over again. Yes, he pointed out that ego-mind is rooted in doubt and separation, but that didn't stop him from continuing to answer questions and writing dozens of books that were essentially answers to those questions.

The problem with pointing out that someone you are in conversation with is suffering from doubt-mind and trying to explain their lack of agreement with you on this phenomena is that it is essentially a form of projection. In other words, it's a way of shifting responsibility for one's own doubts and separative mind to one's debate opponent. It follows from the perception that the person one is having a discussion with isn't entirely agreeing with one's views, and taking that as a form of opposition and conflict that requires one to mount an attack on the other person. Subtly accusing them of being filled with doubt-mind is a way of doing that. It raises oneself higher and lowers the other person to an inferior plane of discourse. It's no longer a discussion among equals, of people who recognize their own limitations and their own dukkha, it's a discussion from a preacher's pulpit.

And that is what Greg tends to do as these discussions progress. He climbs to the preacher's pulpit, very much like Evelyn Disc, using the distance thus created as a form of protection for his own ideas and ideals. But what is really being protected through these methods is the preacher's own inner doubts about those ideas and ideals. In this discussion, Elias has some reasonable questions, and actually agrees with Greg quite a lot, but when he voices some dissent from Greg's views or asks questions that might possibly undermine something Greg says, or something he quoted from Adi Da, there is this reflexive resort to ascending to the pulpit and preaching.

Why, one might ask? I think it's a rather classic example of Da's saying, “those who despise me, love me in secret, while those who love me openly have hidden doubts”. Not that Elias here is showing any evidence of despising Da – quite to the contrary, he is openly praising many things Da says. But when he says anything remotely critical of Da, or asks difficult questions, this triggers Greg's own inner doubts, and he mounts an immediate and elaborate defense against them, filled with all the ringing language of the Adidam preacher. But rather than dealing with these doubts directly, as his own inner problem and conflict, he projects them onto Elias, and starts addressing Elias' “doubt-mind”.

This is a shame. People like Greg need to see their own doubts rising to the surface so they can deal with them. Not because I think Greg needs to embrace those doubts and leave Adidam, but because he needs to be free of them one way or another. Living in isolation on Naitauba, surrounded completely by other devotees of the most dedicated sort, is not going to expose Greg to much that will challenge his own inner doubts or help him to confront them. In fact, in a setting like that, there's usually a communal agreement never to do anything like that, and so people build up forms of consensus among themselves about the absolute truthfulness of their own path in order that none of them ever have to face up to their inner doubts about it. The basic method for dealing with such doubts is to call them “doubt-mind” and to suppress them and cast them out, and to think of that as something that “people in the world” are afflicted with, not themselves.

And of course, someone like Elias, a prominent critic of Adidam, is a convenient target for that kind of projection and trashing, which relieves the believer and makes his fellow believers feel better about themselves. They have made an easy scapegoat of Elias in order to not have to deal with the problem of their own inner doubts. And by affirming in their minds through deadening repetition the core precepts of their path, they can see themselves as the righteous upholders of truth and reality, rather than as ordinary folks with the same ordinary doubts and troubles that we all have about such great matters.

Da once defined cultism as “big talk about great matters without real practice”. Rather than apply that too broadly, trying to paint the whole of the alleged cultist's life with one brush, it's best to apply it to specific situations like these, where we can examine the participants and see whether they are actually practicing in the moment, or just making pretentious Big-Talk. I think we can see that Greg is not really practicing here. He's talking the talk, but not walking the walk. In fact, his inability to walk the walk in this situation leads him to talk bigger and bigger, until his words swallow the relationship entirely and leave nothing behind. What would it take for Greg to actually practice under these circumstances? Not much at all, really.

First, a simple acknowledgement (not necessarily even spoken) that he doesn't actually know all the answers to Elias's questions. That would be a good start.

Second, an acknowledgement that he has questions of his own that he doesn't know the full answers to.

Third, simply staying in human relationship with Elias and making honest observations about the matters under discussion.

Fourth, refraining from over-quoting Adi Da, or turning one's own language into paraphrases of Adi Da's teachings.

Fifth, refraining from putting any blame for one's inability to answer these question on the other person. Try the best you can, and if that isn't good enough, assume no blame on anyone's part.

Sixth, stop preaching or otherwise trying to get rid of any doubts one sees in either oneself or the other. Allow the doubts felt or expressed to rise up and be observed and openly felt without the reaction of suppression. Asserting the opposite of doubt does not undo doubt or overcome it, it only keeps it in the unconscious and makes it more powerful.

Seventh, abandon all dharmas and agendas. Just relate honestly to what is arising, without imposing a mental construct upon it, even one derived from the dharma. Use the present circumstance to illuminate the dharma, and vice-versa.

The key here is simply staying in relationship. That doesn't mean one can't be emotional or even react at times. But one must be able to climb back down from those emotions by feeling them and knowing them as one's own, rather than projecting them onto others. The biggest danger in all these kinds of discussions is the projection game. It's something we have all done. I've done it, Elias has done it, and here Greg is doing it. No big deal, really. I'm impressed that Elias is actually refraining fairly well from playing that out, because I know it's something Elias has had problems with in the past. It's good to see him showing some maturity here. Kudos.

But then again, Elias has had the advantage of years of engaging people in almost endless rounds of internet discussion and has experienced these kinds of conflicts over and over again. Him and I have done that with one another as much as anyone probably, and we've each been guilty of some of the most egregious offenses one can imagine. Greg has not had that kind of experience. I'm sure he's had lots of Adidam devotional groups, which sometimes allow for this sort of confrontation with one's own inner demons and doubts, and been through his fair share of purification in that regard. But this is quite a different animal, dealing with people outside the reference frame of the small religious world of Naitauba and having to talk with people who simply don't share that point of view.

There's a whole layer of doubt-mind rising up here in Greg that he's probably not had to deal with in a long time, since he himself was entering into the Adidam fold. And so it's perhaps understandable that he's intimidated and responding so aggressively. But it's also something that I hope he and other devotees can learn to handle responsibly, taking on the reactions that arise in them without projecting them onto others, and allow themselves to be unsettled by the experience rather than constantly trying to resolve it with affirmations of their own faith. That's not going to work. They have to see these encounters as forms not of missionary preaching, but of confrontation with their own doubts and difficulties, as a gracious opportunity to see things about themselves that their rather cloistered life in Naitauba is not helping them with.

Rather than seeing themselves as the beneficent vehicles of grace given to the lowly and doubt-filled Elias for his healing and enlightenment, they need to see Elias as the vehicle of grace given to them to help them deal with their own doubts, difficulties, and cultism. Yes, that's a humbling attitude, but a necessary one. Elias may have some prickly personal qualities at times, but even that's not much in evidence here. In fact, Elias seems very much motivated to understand these Adidam folks and the dharma of Adi Da, just without all the cultic baggage attached. That's not being served here. It's not furthered by preaching, but by honest discussion.

That means people like Greg need to get over the image of themselves they've created as some sort of wise and saintly vehicle of grace, and get down to real practice, which means really facing up to and transcending their own inner nonsense and doubt. They have to acknowledge that they have their own doubts about Adi Da and his teachings, and not feel that if they admit that to themselves or to others that they have “lost” the debate. Doing that is actually a sign of inner strength, not weakness, whereas these outer shows of faith and conviction are actually signs of weakness, not strength as they seem to presume. And people listening in on this conversation can't help but perceive it that way.

One has to be able to enter into conversations with our fellow human beings in an open-ended manner, without knowing how it's supposed to turn out for either of us. As mentioned in my previous post, Greg has an agenda here, a missionary agenda, and he sees himself as obligated to perform some priestly role here of bringing the dharma to those in darkness. This unfortunately is just a belief in Greg's mind, and he's trying to impose it on the conversation, and naturally it produces conflict – primarily in Greg's own mind, but by projecting it onto the conversation, it destroys the natural relationship there as well. Instead, Greg could just engage Elias without that agenda, and let his own natural relationship with the Guru guide him, and let what occurs unfold without his mind trying to control it. This would allow Greg to actually benefit from the encounter in ways he probably couldn't imagine beforehand, rather than see the only benefit coming from Elias being “turned around” by Greg's skill with the Adidam dharma.

In other words, these kinds of discussions have to be living, fluid and unpredictable, like life itself. Like God. Even, like Adi Da. Doing that would be genuine missionary work, regardless of how it seemed to turn out. Living satsang with an open-ended mind is the best way to overcome doubt-mind and the presumption of separation. Otherwise, things always turn out badly, even if one thinks one has succeeded in one's preaching. Gaining converts to the Tabernacle of Saint and Ear, where the repetition of high dharma is used to push one's inner doubts deep into one's unconscious, is not real missionary work. Real missionary work is no different than real life or real practice. It is open-ended, putting no limits on mind or speech, a constant encounter with one's own limitations and a constant practice of overcoming those limitations. It isn't about overcoming the limitations in others, ever.

The limitations one encounters in others are always and only opportunities to deal with one's own inner doubts and demons and limits, for we react to what we have in ourselves. If we find ourselves reacting to doubt-mind in someone else, and trying to remedy that by preaching the gospel of Adidam (or whatever one is into), one has to recognize that and simply stop it, turn on a dime, and deal instead with one's own doubts, until there is no more reaction left in us. That's what there is to learn from these kinds of encounters, by which I mean virtually all of human life. What relationships are not like this, not just ultimately, but in everyday practice? Life is series of confrontations with ourselves, played out in a drama of outer forms and circumstances, but always a means for us to deal with ourselves, rather than try to fix or cure or convert others to our point of view.

That is what I've learned at least from my time in Adidam and my time out of Adidam. It's not, I think, a point of view that is in conflict with basic Adidam dharma. I think it's a fairly universal lesson we all need to learn, and something I need to keep learning and practicing with. It would be good if people in Adidam could learn that from these sorts of encounters, and be willing to have genuinely open-ended discussions with public people and even critics of Adidam like Elias. It's one of the best ways to purify oneself of cultism and all its artifacts in the mind, which are essentially forms of “closed-mindedness”. This is to be done by resorting to that inner and transcendental aspect of mind that is not limited by doubt and separation, but which is always prior to these. This aspect of mind is the true “heart” of the mind, and it is always available to us, under any circumstances, and it isn't a form of preachy repetition of the right words and phrases, it's an open-ended and loving embrace of whatever crazy circumstance or relationship one is in.

So anyway, I hope that this little message of minds gets read by Greg or others in Adidam who have some honest interest in genuinely “making satsang available”. This is I hope at least a decent pointer to how to do that. Elias unfortunately mentions in his follow-up discussion on his forum that some of the Adidam people seem to have withdrawn from Facebook and suggests that this might be the result some inside decision to not engage the public in this way, but to stay away from such open encounters that can't be controlled or that might result in some kind of embarrassment to the organization. That's too bad.

The Adidam organization needs to get over its embarrassment phobia. That should have been done away with back in the Garbage and the Goddess days, but somehow it persists all the way up to the present. I mean honestly, Adi Da's public reputation was ruined way back then, there's really nothing left to lose. Which is actually a good thing, if those people have the courage to embrace that set of facts. It means they could, if they were insightful and secure enough in themselves, actually engage the public in an open-ended manner and simply allow what comes of that to flow naturally from their own faith in their Guru. One thing needs to be clear – that would be the sign of real faith, not this endless attempt to control all interactions with the public and ram the gospel of Adidam down their throats. Why not just live their faith without preaching it at all? It's the living, not the preaching, that is the real “missionary work”, after all. One can still talk dharma and make communcations about it and so forth, but it's no longer a form of preaching, it's just a way of engaging people in a way that's interesting and meaningful. Many people do like dharma discussions, and in Adidam there's a lot of dharma to discuss. None of it needs to be preached however. And everyone, including perhaps especially the most inner-circle devotees, has lots of doubts and questions about it. Most of those are quite reasonable and need to be addressed.

No one can actually quell or answer anyone else's doubts and questions, but one can at least be a sounding board for them. And by being a sounding board, one can also examine one's own doubts and questions, since all too often we share them with those who ask them. The process of actually and honestly looking into these matters is not easy, and we can't presume to have done that until we really are free of the illusions of doubt-mind ourselves. Until then, we have to be very honest about the presence in ourselves of these same doubts and questions, and not see ourselves as having the answers, but as engaging in a consideration in which we are really asking ourselves what we understand, and not merely mouthing the answers our minds have read. We can of course put forth the answers we have come up with, or have read about, but as something that is always worthy of crticism and critique, not deification. The problem with these kinds of discussion of Adidam dharma is that none of the Adidam devotees actually want to enter into a critique of the Adidam dharma, they want to make an icon out of it, which is actually a way of killing it, putting it in a coffin, and raising it above the dias of Saint and Ear, which is what happens to Quandra (the questioner) in the Mummery.

Adidam devotees really ought to examine the meaning of that teaching symbol and how it applies to their failure to actually critique the questions they have deep within themselves. Rather than killing them through religious cultism, they need to bring them to life and deal with them in life, in relationship, in the world of give and take and the struggle to understand ourselves.


Anonymous said...


Anonymous said...


I think I've come to the right place. My name is Diane and 14 years ago while I was looking at colleges I visited a distant friend of the family in Terra Linda.

She held a supper that the woman I'm told is your wife, assuming you are still married, attended. Victoria made a major impression upon me, in a subtle way if that makes any sense. She was lively beyond measure. I felt like I wanted to be more like her, especially by the time I was her age.

We even looked much alike, even though I was young enough to be her daughter. Fact is, I sorta fell in love with her on the spot for real and in more ways than one, you could say.

At one point we said the exact same sentence at the exact same time. She smiled a killer smile at me and said, "I owed her a coke." My favorite aunt would do that when I was a kid.

I decided to go to college in Maryland and soon after married, of all things an Episcopal Priest. A small handful of kids followed shortly. We remain a very happy bunch.

Obviously, being a devotee of Da was not in the cards. Why, I've never even read a book by him -- serious dyslexia. Still, truth be told, I do consider myself a closeted devotee of a kind. All I do is say his name silently and I am flooded with the most incredible heart joy -- every time. Like breathing in liquid light. It is so extreme, that I don't over use it for fear I might lose it. The Episcopalian in me, I guess.

I never listen to or watch his videos or really ever think about him. I can't explain the whole thing, even to myself. But who cares, if you know what I mean. He's my gift horse, you might say.

Sorry to go on and on. The reason why I am writing is that I was told by a devotee friend that I might leave a message for Victoria here.

I apologize if that is rude of me. I simply do not know of any other way I might reach her.

Okay, to the reason why I'm writing. One week ago I had a vivid dream in which Adi Da said to me, really it was a shout, that I should get in touch with Victoria and tell her that he said she should read a book entitled: Love's Sacrifice and the Ordeal to Become Human, by Leroy Stilwell.

I'd seen a copy of this book on a friend's kitchen table the last time I was in Scranton. Otherwise, I don't know word one about it.

He said to me that I should travel to wherever she is and personally hand it to her if necessary. That was a bit much. I woke up in a start, rather dumbfounded.

I never remember my dreams. Didn't know what to make of it. Victoria appeared in the dream at the end, just like I remembered her. A visual reminder I guess. I don't know how dreams work. She was beautiful though.

Anyway, just passing things forward. A good life to you and yours,

Diane Jackson

Broken Yogi said...

Yes, Diane, this is the right place. My wife Victoria and I did live in Terra Linda at that time, and yes, she is just as you describe, a remarkably lively and beautiful woman who generally makes a wonderful impression on people. We are of course still together, as I could not possibly live without her love. I have forwarded your email to her, and I'm sure she will order Dennis' book on Amazon. Dennis is an old friend of mine, btw, and I'd heard he'd written a book, but I haven't seen it yet.

You are of course free to contact her and meet her if you like. Leave your email address and I will make sure she gets it. And thanks for passing on the message from Da. I'm sure she will appreciate it.

Anonymous said...

Wow! What a sweet response! Gave me such chills! I feel that characteristic feeling of Da that is like nothing else, even as I have all kinds of joys swirling through my life.

Something very odd is alive here. I've noticed an enlivening of his power since the dream and the emotions I seem to have in relationship to Victoria don't quite make sense to me -- in the grand scheme of things.

It was a Da supper. The woman who put it on's name was Eichler, I think, but its been a while. In a lot of ways it was Da that I felt so strongly in your Victoria, the feminine form that is --- it kinda blew me away, and more than I am letting on here. Feeling feelings for another woman I hadn't felt before or since.

And the meeting was so darn brief, yet she lives in my mind's eye like yesterday.

Let me hibernate on your offer and see how I feel. Like I said, no one should be allowed to feel this good!

Thanks so, so much!!!



\m said...

Perusing the Amazon site, it shows that this book was very recently published (February 2011). There's a glowing recommendation from Chris Tong (which to me would normally be an anti-recommendation):

Chris Tong Ph.D. (CA, USA) - See all my reviews
This review is from: Love's Sacrifice and the Ordeal to Become Human: 30 Years with my Spiritual Master, Adi Da (Paperback)
Love's Sacrifice takes you on a roller coaster ride in which idealistic illusions about spiritual life are blown away; where moments of tender human happiness and mystical ecstasy happen in the midst of an all too mortal and limited circumstance; and where life with the Spiritual Master is shown to be an ongoing, ego-shattering Revelation of perfect love, infinite happiness, and unlimited freedom. At the heart of this book is the Divine Spiritual Master Himself -- Adi Da -- who is seen from many vantage points: as the source of the Revelation; the great lover of His devotees; a master teacher by word, example, and incident; and a fountain of ultimate wisdom. The world's spiritual traditions have many time-worn stories, but for anyone who has ever wondered what a spiritual life with the human incarnation of the Divine might really be like--up close and personal: read this book!

Anyhow, looking forward to your review of this book sometime soon!


Randy said...

I bought this book for my Kindle a couple weeks back and really enjoyed it - as far as I know it is a first of its kind (a book published by a devotee about his / her experiences). Although we were never close friends, I have known Dennis for many years and reading this book brought back a lot of memories.

Anonymous said...

from Diane:

Seeing one of the posts here
I feel I was remiss in not having shared the final part of my dream.

Since it was presented as a given by Adi Da, I related to it as a given. Usually I don't put much store in dreams.

Anyhow . . . after Adi Da shouted at me that I should hand deliver the book if necessary, he looked over at me.

He was suddenly calmed. He raised an eyebrow in a kind of Mr. Spock gesture.

Then in a combination of communicating an aside at the same time as a shared confidence, in a baritone whisper he said,

"she will easily wade through what's horse s__t as she always has had to -- to find Me".

That's it.

Broken Yogi said...


Thanks for finishing the story like that. I'm sure Victoria will appreciate that add-on.

I read her your message yesterday and she was very appreciative, not quite believing she could have made so strong an impression on someone so long ago. She doesn't really remember the event you are describing, but don't take offense, she doesn't remember much of what happened last week either. That's just the way she is. She lives in the moment. She'd be happy to hear from you, if you want to write.

As for your fears, I'm not quite sure what they are about. You don't have to be afraid of Da, he's nothing really. What you feel doesn't need to have a name or a placemark in the universe. You could call it "Jesus" if you like. The important thing is to find this love among the people here on this earth and to know it as our very self. How that happens has no rules or trademarks or copyright. Like Da in your dream says, you have to wade through the bullshit and always keep your eye on the real business for which you have come. Learning to do that is what it's all about, not joining a club. So don't be shy. Victoria will not try to recruit you into anything, nor will I, which I think you can probably tell if you have read anything of this blog.

Anyway, best to you and yours, and I'm very glad you had the courage to find us and relay your dream. It's pretty funny, don't you think?

Anonymous said...

Dear Conrad,

My sweet, sweet man. Forgive me if I came across as someone who fears Adi Da or who is concerned about being recruited beyond the way my heart's already been.

Did I reflect that manner of angst? I couldn't be happier with the gifts He gives and All He Is to me.

Years ago in a kindly accounting for my complexly unusual circumstances, someone at Adidam was generous enough to make exception for me and slot me into something like what He's termed the Fourth Congregation.

She even went so far as to share with me a version of the rich sadhana that in that era was characterized as "The Simplest Practice".

At the time I was told that one had to be "uniquely qualified" based on certain criteria in devotional reception and meditation, though it didn't seem like they were lenient in ascertaining the same.

The criteria were as complex as they were specific. Conrad, perhaps you remember them.

I think it was a brief window in the grand scheme of things that no one has bothered to close, at least in regards to me.

And I've kept up to date with everything from the gossip to the recorded material, as reading is a chore, but then again so is gossip.

As a "parson's wife" you may imagine, people assume, assume and assume.

But back to the past:

I don't usually speak about my meditation practice or the form of reception of Adi Da, but I did share it in detail with Susan who
my main contact at the time.

If you would like to get a sense of my day to day experience pretty much ten as now, I say with a touch of the shyness you picked up on, check out a copy of the book, The Prodigal Returns, by Lilian Stavely.It is public domain:

A handful of years ago a dear friend of mine discovered it and in quite a fever told me that it sounded almost identical to my story if one merely substituted Adi Da for Jesus.

She was kinda right. Seriously so. Almost to the letter. So right as a matter of fact that I didn't complete my first reading for two and a half years --- for some truly non-superstitious reasons, if you were to know the details of my interior and exterior life, you'd understand. There were some possibilities I just didn't want
to encounter

All my life I've been a "sensitive". I've never made a fuss about it because the fact of it is not very interesting, especially compared to some of the wonderful effects certain sensitivities to certain things can elicit.

more ---

Anonymous said...

My discovery of Adi Da was not a discovery of a placeholder for the Divine, nor a projection of an interior need externalized, nor any of the sort of arguments that people make for the the impossibility of the actual discovery of such things.

How do I know?

I may well write a book on on the subject. To contain all the proofs beyond proof, would require one.

But as long as my husband is alive, I would have to publish it anonymously, as Lilian did.

The congregation would otherwise no doubt fuss over it, even as you have, dear one!

Proofs? Tests of credulity in the face of foes, inside and out?

I'm a New Englander after all!

Carl Sagan is actually a not too distant relative on my mothers side!

Yes, even the horrors that you describe of your encounters with Adi Da and the community . . . truth be told, they kind-of turn me on.

Extreme doubt creating tests, are they not as core to the real
process as the amrit in the back
of the throat and the carousels dancing just overhead? I know you know.

Been beaten unconscious by Siddhi enough times to fear few purveyors of onslaughts.Let me at em, Let me at em, to quote my favorite actor as a kid, Bert Lahr.

Conrad, do you not believe those same horrors occupy the interior life, terrible phrasing I now, as the exterior life, in whatever place we call home?

My life trials in some ways are probably more testing. And it is natural to crave company in the sharing of Adi Da.

I love my husband and my kids, but trust me I would soak up "the community" and bask in its contradictions.

I would die to often be in a room with others and a Murti of Sri Gurudev.

I've sneaked an opportunity to do just that on several occasions, including a time I was told he had never been so fierce. Sure, it was on video, but just the same. Seventh Heaven.

Trust me, I've been eaten by more than my fair share of lions.I intuited the same about Victoria,
one of several "separated at birth"
touch points.

Honest, I am warmed by your concern for me, but how of an order of magnitude different our sense of Adi Da is!

Did you know that Dante first met Beatrice Portinari when she was eight? How much that brief encounter sparked? He saw her in the village square nine years later and he just kept walking.

Its not that I do not believe that Victoria still holds the same charm she did at our dinner, its just that in the mystery of things encountering her as I said, for some reason awakened me to the vision of Adi Da in a way that was as surprising as it was intoxicating.

The sheer physical force of it alone . . .

And no, I didn't let on at the time. A skill I had to perfect young.

And now, how many autumns? How many of leaves of many colors raked and bundled and put to the curb?

If I wasn't married, I'd certainly attempt a thieving of your Beatrice!
Shyness serves its intended purpose only so far after all.

Back in the day, perhaps when you first met her, did you ever pick up on Adi Da in her? I was real curious about that.

Just as I was wondering if her perfect teeth came from her father her mother or her dentist.

Again, sweet of you to feel concern for me. As other folks I see have enumerated upon here, there is something about you that is rather charming,and oddly innocent in your unique way even with all your colorful flailing about.

And yeah, the dream was funny.

I was about to tell Him in the end, as he was busting my eardrums, to pick on someone His own size; just then He turned the tables as He's been doing with me seemingly for eternity -- winning my heart again as if it weren't already won.

I've taken too much of your time.

My felt affection to Ms. Bendix (yes, I remember her name) and to you dear one,


Broken Yogi said...


Talk about sweetness!

You should know that while I'm a critic of many things Adidam, I'm not a critic of devotion. Quite the opposite. I love devotion regardless of its object, because it never actually springs from the object, much as we might like to think.

Even my love for my wife does not truly spring from her. A little story here: I met Victoria in 1983, when I had moved to Lake County to work for the Dawn Horse Press. There were virtually no single women in the entire Lake County Community at the time, so I assumed my move there was a virtual vow of celibacy. However, one day I read a recently published talk by Adi Da that included the message "You need more Shakti in your life!" I felt this very powerfully, and it triggered something in me. Later, thinking about it in the shower, I felt that I really, really did need the Shakti in my life, and it suddenly came pouring down through the top of my head all through my body like the water itself from the showerhead. I felt a strange sense of faith, and decided to just wait and see what would happen. The next day my best friend's wife called to ask me if I were interested in going on a blind date with a friend of hers who wasn't a devotee but who she just had a "feeling for". I said yes of course. And from that blind date on, Victoria and I were a couple, and she was drawn into Adidam through me, and became a formal devotee in a matter of months.

Did I see Da in her? What does that even mean? She was, truth be told, the outer manifestation of something already going on in me, this Shakti embrace, this love, this need to love the Divine in two-armed form. Of course that is Da, and of course that is Jesus and Mary and Kali and Ramana and whatever one wishes to call it. Da was my Guru then, so it's fine to say it was Da. But it's also fine to say it wasn't Da. If you are devoted to Da, then call that Da. If Jesus, then Jesus. One is drawn to some particular form of God for who knows what reason? Why Victoria for me and not someone else? Who can say?

Now, the same kind of process was going on in Victoria also. To her, I'm a gift from God and a helluva challenge as well. True love isn't always easy, you know? I of course know instantly why you were drawn to her, because I was drawn to her for the same reason. I can also assure you that this quality you describe has not diminished in her, though it was actually less prominent then, and has only grown stronger and more beautiful over the years. That is how love works. It makes you better, if you make use of it that way. Even now, Victoria and I know that we can never fulfill or satisfy each other, that is all hopeless. But we love each other more than ever before. That's the only recourse there is.

As for Da, you are fortunate never to have actually had to live in the community or practice as he required. You are free to have an imaginative relationship to him, and I don't mean by that a false or unreal one, but one not bounded by the hard. You are even free to imagine how wonderful it might have been to live in the community and practice in his company. I hesitate to spoil such dreams and yearnings. It's a bit like dreaming of Krishna and the cowherders. Or Jesus at the Mount of Olives. The physical reality of that might not have been so endearing, however. You have undoubtedly made the right decision to stay in the physical realm of your husband and children and congregation, and reserve Da and his community for your imagination. That is a kind of devotion as well. It never gets old, and you never become disillusioned that way. Like Keats and his Grecian Urn.


Broken Yogi said...


I will only say that there's something profoundly moving about disillusionment, about broken hearts and broken minds, that is also a great lesson about devotion. I can't tell you how many tears I shed in the years I was leaving Da, as I found him dying before me, and in me, long before his body did. So yes, I see him differently than you, because I have seen his corpse suspended before me, and all the ugly worms and disgusting pus oozing from his orifices. He's not all poetry, you know? Much that is grotesque and cruel and loveless lies in that body, and if you haven't seen that yet, well, that is good too in its way, but not something that I envy any longer, though I once did. Much of my devotion in Adidam was a concerted effort not to see what was before my eyes, but instead to resort to the imagination and to remain fixed in that, to see the Da I wanted to see, rather than the Da that was actually there. But that effort fell apart, which was a good thing, and that devotion broke down and died, and a new kind of devotion emerged, one that was not afraid to see the darkness and call it out, one that wanted to be able to see the whole picture, warts and scars and brutality and all, without escaping to the imagination.

I do love the imagination, however, so I would love to see your book published, even anonymously. It's become incredibly easy to do that these days, with electronic publishing through Amazon and so forth. Anyone can do it. I may even give that a shot myself soon. So I hope you can do that sometime, since you write very well and have much deep feeling for all this. The imagination can see the purity that the eye sometimes misses. Combining the two is where tragedy reaches its artistic heights and depths, however, and the story of Da is a tragic love story as far as I am concerned. As was Beatrice and Dante. The real challenge is to love and care for someone in this fleshy world of endless difficulties, and that is why to me marriage is the best human sadhana. Forget about Gurus for a moment, and love the one you're with, as they say. That is the doorway to genuine realization. If you can do that, the rest is just a grace.

So thanks so much for all you've written. It's really wonderful to read and I hope you keep it up in some form or other. You have a real gift and real feeling behind it. It doesn't matter to me whether its about Da or Joseph Smith or the Victoria or Lolita (one of my favorite novels). Love redeems even the worst among us. Look at me.

Anonymous said...

Dear dear Conrad,

I'm falling in love with you. Do not come between me and your wife!
I'm warning ya! Don't make me wield my whip.

Don't force me to do what will hurt me more than it will hurt you.

You've just demonstrated, beyond the beyond, what I meant when I proclaimed: The Beauty Of Your Innocence!

Though you do make my ida and pingala bristle at brief intervals, I have to keep reminding myself that it this is just your way of high falutin flirtin --

-- that being condescending to this degree is something you only do with woman that your deeper personality is gaga over.

I know you know what I mean. There haven't been that many. I like that you are practically a virgin.

In your case it is one of your integrities, like your ability to commit. And love. NOTE: I hope you know when I'm being serious. All the time. One of the ways I take after my Ishta.

My tongue doesn't do much when I say your name, but I like what my teeth and lips do. Makes me look defiant when I do it while gazing in the mirror.

Yes it's me HH. your long lost Do-lor-es. Do you understand the koan, "who is the host and who is the guest?" Dirty old man? Do you?

"Keats studied the old poets every day / Instead of picking up his M.F.A," penned poet Donald Hall.

Conrad love, find an Ishta!!! Fake or real it doesn't matter, as you so deftly point out.


"Bowl / with your head / instead" penned poet Diane Jackson

All you need "know" of self-enquiry.

Conrad, dear heart, I have no imagination! I mean literally!

True story (I'll delve into it more in the future) --- the neurological condition that I have that contributes to my almost complete dyslexia (I'm dictating this through the friend of mine that I mentioned to you gave me the Staveley book) dramatically reduces my capacity to form representations of things, or to abstract things in particular ways.

I mean dramatically. My neurologist says that I'm the only person "who sees things exactly as they are". Whatever that means.

more --

Anonymous said...

Ever since I was a teenager, I've been being seen by one of Dr. Oliver Sacks'(I assume you've heard of him) principal proteges at UNC Chapel Hill.

Life as a case study.

Even my psychic visions come fully formed.

You want proof, here's proof. Someone close to you actually shares my condition (without dyslexia) in a much more scaled down version, undiagnosed, or perhaps falsely diagnosed as a slight case of Aspergers.

One day when he was young, he went from what he was otherwise destined to become -- something like the Brad Pitt character in a River Runs Through It film, or more exactly, the last page of the short story it was based upon (except ignore how he met his demise -- a mere literary device).

In his relatively early childhood, in the course of one evening, he went from this destiny (and character) to the current character and destiny he is still treading.

His change was caused by a "war" between aspects of the deeper personalities of the two people who loved him most beginning to diverge in their core purposes, just as other aspects of their experience were beginning to thrive. They unintentionally left him a tad "lost" in the wake.

That should give you enough to ideally, sans imagination, create your own picture. If you want to know what exactly triggered the change, or more importantly, how to fix it, let me know. I charge a flat rate five cents, on a sliding scale.

Imagination, my deft derriere!

Believe it or not, "I've lived in "the community" for centuries.

Don't go all this-lifetime, lazy, spiritually square, reduced down, Carl Sagan on me, just because you
are feeling itchy to be kitschy.

Imagination. What does imagination have to do with anything. Some people's kids --

Conrad, or may I call you Connie or Rad? I think I like Rad best, I loved hearing the "is" part of your post. Made me jealous . . .
in a good way, Rad.

But then to go all Ann Landers on me! Puleez, pitch me into the brier patch! The jealousy at least serves a higher purpose.

First you make me all jealous than you try and finish me off by going all-out dorky on me!

I promised myself not to do parlor trick psychic readings on you but there is "spilt" tea all over my kitchen floor. I have a deeply affectionate parabdha connection to you and yours, as you well know.

more ---

Anonymous said...

Ever since you first responded to me I've been flooded with data that is intimate to you and as hyper "realistic"as a Simon Hennessey painting. Much of it good, oddly enough.

Having spontaneously gazed into my crystal bowling ball I've seen that both you and Elias have had these (more similar than you "imagine", genuine visions cum visitations with Beloved Adi Da.

The problem is, while much of the pictorial data is accurate, the interpretations are generally so skewed that it would require pick and shovel to strip the marble clothing the Pieta.

The laughing part is the Son in your lap. Its real off course. As is the fact of a kind of singling out of the two of you for a particular reason.

I'll go to the trouble of letting you know what I've made of the same unassayed ore if you care to know. But, like that anonymous poster says, its doubtful you do, and that's understandable based upon your experience of the marvels of maggotry.

Orr says to Yossarian, "how can he see he's got flies in his eyes if he's got flies in his eyes?"

My father would always quoted unintelligible things like that.

Funny man, not a jot of irony in im though.

You do know how much genuine affection this is all said with? And caring? And lightheartedness?

And I never mean anything ironically, because it too is not a sense I contain. Victoria is the same way, though it takes some people a little time to recognize that.

Samaraj Flutter Kisses of the most ribald love to VB and spankings never ending to you C. ---


Your Diane

Anonymous said...

Whoopsy daisy, as my grand mom and Victoria's grand mom used to say:

In the sentence below in my last post change off course to of course. Got a little off course there.

The laughing part is the Son in your lap. Its real off course. As is the fact of a kind of singling out of the two of you for a particular reason.

Broken Yogi said...

I assume you are having some kind of ken-sho experience here. Good to hear from the other side of the veil, and many happy thoughts to you also. What does Sun say? Don't know!

I gather I hit a vary large nerve with my remarks about "imagination". Uncle Carl must be haunting your mind with a very large sword overhead. Don't assume we both use the word in the same sense or with the same limits. The imagination to me is merely the link between the physical and the subtle, not a form of "unreality". You can't have such a link without using the imagination, and you can't have any imagination without a link to the subtle. That's what makes us so uniquely human here.

But don't belittle the importance of the physical either. The imagination is a link, and without the physical there is nothing being linked to, just the subtle, in which case, why incarnate at all? We are here to establish a link to the physical, to use the physical world to play out our desires, tendencies, and troubled imaginations, not merely to think of the subtle as the "real" and the physical as some "unreal world". Imagination, which you seem to possess in excess of the ordinary, regardless of what your doctors tell you, doesn't exist here without a linkage to the physical. The facts of the subtle life and your subtle connections to the "community" don't supercede the physical realities here and what they mean to us. The "real Da" is not just some subtle truth you find in the mind or the subtle worlds, he's also the bodily fellow who did lots of great and also many fucked up things. Ignore that at your own peril.

I don' t want to force you to "give away" too much of your inner life here. Just letting you know I appreciate the contact and have missed you a great deal. Maybe we can go on a double date again some time? The love is all that matters, am I right?

Anonymous said...

Dear Conrad,

Finally some of our language comes together. I'm glad, because I feel like we are more at the same table.

A good place.

I'm not quite sure of some of what you are driving at. But that's okay. Love, as you say, is the alpha and omega!

And as personal as ya can make it. I'll buy that too.

I know you know having a bowl as a head is the deal starter for realizing as you say, that "I is the body is love".

The Way?

We see, and thus inevitably worship, different Gods. That's okay.

We see, and thus inevitably worship, the same God. That's okay too.

I've provided the previously touched upon ultimate Dharma. The Homespun Truth I already know we'll have no argument over.

Check out the movie again while you're at it.

A River Runs Through It, By Norman MacLean

As a Scot and Presbyterian, my father believed that man by nature was a mess and had fallen from an original state of grace. Somehow, I developed an early notion that he had done this by fallen from a tree. As for my father, I never knew whether he believed God was a mathematician but he certainly believed God could count and that only by picking up God's rhythms were we able to regain power and beauty.

If our father had had his say, nobody who did not know how to catch a fish would be allowed to disgrace a fish by catching him.

My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things - trout as well as eternal salvation - come by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy.

Undoubtedly, our differences would not have seemed so great if we had not been such a close family. Painted on one side of our Sunday school wall were the words, God Is Love. We always assumed that these three words were spoken directly to the four of us in our family and had no reference to the world outside, which my brother and I soon discovered was full of bastards, the number increasing rapidly the farther one gets from Missoula, Montana.

We held in common one major theory about street-fighting - if it looks like a fight is coming, get in the first punch. We both thought that most bastards aren't so tough as they talk - even bastards who look as well as talk tough. If suddenly they feel a few teeth loose, they will rub their rubs, look at the blood on their hands, and offer to buy a drink for the house. "But even if they still feel like fighting," as my brother said, "you are one big punch ahead when the fight starts."

There is just one trouble with this theory - it is only statistically true. Every once in a while you run into some guy who likes to fight as much as you do and is better at it. If you start off by loosening a few of his teeth he may try to kill you.


Anonymous said...

It is not in the book, yet it is human enough to spend a moment before casting in trying to imagine what the fish is thinking, even if one of its eggs is as big as its brain and even if, when you swim underwater, it is hard to imagine that a fish has anything to think about. Still, I could never be talked into believing that all a fish knows is hunger and fear. I have tried to feel nothing but hunger and fear and don't see how a fish could ever grow to six inches if that were all he ever felt.

Below him was the multitudinous river, and, where the rock had parted it around him, big-grained vapor rose. The mini-molecules of water left in the wake of his line made momentary loops of gossamer, disappearing so rapidly in the rising big-grained vapor that they had to be retained in memory to be visualized as loops. The spray emanating from him was finer-grained still and enclosed him in a halo of himself. The halo of himself was always there and always disappearing, as if he were candlelight flickering about three inches from himself. The images of himself and his line kept disappearing into the rising vapors of the river, which continually circles to the tops of the cliffs where, after becoming a wreath in the wind, they became rays of the sun.

It is a strange and wonderful and embarassing feeling to hold someone in your arms who is trying to detach you from the earth and you aren't good enough to follow her.

I called her Mo-nah-se-tah, the name of the beautiful daughter of the Cheyenne chief, Little Rock. At first, she didn't particularly care for the name, which means, "the young grass that shoots in the spring," but after I explained to her that Mo-nah-se-tah was supposed to have had an illegitimate son by General George Armstrong Custer she took to the name like a duck to water.

One reason Paul caught more fish than anyone else was that he had his flies in the water more than anyone else. "Brother," he would say, "there are no flying fish in Montana. Out here, you can't catch fish with your flies in the air."

Something within fishermen tries to make fishing into a world perfect and apart - I don't know what it is or where, because sometimes it is in my arms and sometimes in my throat and sometimes nowhere in particular except somewhere deep. Many of us probably would be better fishermen if we did not spend so much time watching and waiting for the world to become perfect.

The hardest thing usually to leave behind can loosely be called the conscience.

One of life's quiet excitements is to stand somewhat apart from yourself and watch yourself softly becoming the author of something beautiful, even if it is only a floating ash.


Anonymous said...

Poets talk about "spots of time," but it is really fishermen who experience eternity compressed into a moment. No one can tell what a spot of time is until suddenly the whole world is a fish and the fish is gone. I shall remember that son of a bitch forever.

If you have never seen a bear go over the mountains, you have never seen the job reduced to its essentials. Of course, deer are faster, but not going straight uphill. Not even elk have the power in their hindquarters. Deer and elk zagging and switchback and stop and pose while really catching their breath. The bear leaves the earth like a bolt of lightning retrieving itself and making its thunder backwards.

I said, "I know he doesn't like to fish. He just likes to tell women he likes to fish. It does something for him and the women. And for the fish too," I added. "It makes them all feel better."

I sat there and forgot and forgot, until what remained was the river that went by and I who watched. On the river the heat mirages danced with each other and then they danced through each other and then they joined hands and danced around each other. Eventually the watcher joined the river, and there was only one of us. I believe it was the river.

As the heat mirages on the river in front of me danced with and through each other, I could feel patterns from my own life joining with them. It was here, while waiting for my brother, that I started this story, although, of course, at the time I did not know that stories of life are often more like rivers than books. But I knew a story had begun, perhaps long ago near the sound of water. And I sensed that ahead I would meet something that would never erode so there would be a sharp turn, deep circles, a deposit, and quietness.

You have never really seen an ass until you have seen two sunburned asses on a sandbar in the middle of a river. Nearly all the rest of the body seems to have evaporated. The body is a large red ass about to blister, with hair on one end of it for a head and feet attached to the other end for legs.

"Help is giving part of yourself to somebody who comes to accept it willing and needs it badly.

"So it is that we can seldom help anybody. Either we don't know what part to give or maybe we don't like to give any part of ourselves. Then, more often than not, the part that is needed is not wanted. And even more often, we do not have the part that is needed. It is like the auto-supply shop over town where they always say, 'Sorry, we are just out of that part.'"

I told him, "You make it too tough. Help doesn't have to be anything that big."


Anonymous said...

He asked me, "Do you think your mother helps him by buttering his roll?"

"She might," I told him. "In fact, yes, I think she does."

"Tell me, why is it that people who want help do better without it - at least, no worse. Actually, that's what it is, no worse. They take all the help they can get, and are just the same as they always have been."

To my father, the highest commandment was to do whatever his sons wanted him to do, especially if it meant to go fishing.

Big clumsy flies bumped into my face, swarmed on my nose and wiggled in my underwear. Blundering and soft-bellied, they had been bornbefore they had brains. They had spent a year under water on legs, had crawled out on a rock, had become flies and copulated with the ninth and tenth segments of their abdomens, and then had died as the first light wind blew them into the water where the fish circled excitedly. They were a fish's dream come true - stupid, succulent, and exhausted from copulation. Still, it would be hard to know what gigantic portion of human life is spent in this same ratio of years under water on legs to one premature exhausted moment on wings.

I took one look at it [fly] and felt perfect. My wife, my mother-in-law, and my sister-in-law, each in her somewhat obscure style, had recently redeclared their love for me. I, in my somewhat obscure style, had returned their love. I might never see my brother-in-law again. My mother had found my father's old tackle and once more he was fishing with us. My brother was taking tender care of me, and not catching any fish. I was about to make a killing.

"Help is giving part of yourself to somebody who comes to accept it willingly and needs it badly."

A fisherman, though, takes a hangover as a matter of course - after a couple of hours of fishing, it goes away, all except the dehydration, but then he is standing all day in water.

When I was young, a teacher had forbidden me to say "more perfect" because she said if a thing is perfect it can't be more so. But by now I had seen enough of life to have regained my confidence in it.

"All there is to thinking is seeing something noticeable which makes you see something you weren't noticing which makes you see something that isn't even visible."

On the Big Blackfoot River above the mouth of Belmont Creek the banks are fringed by large Ponderosa pines. In the slanting sun of late afternoon the shadows of great branches reached from across the river, and the trees took the river in their arms. The shadows continued up the bank, until they included us.

"... but you can love completely without complete understanding."

Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them.
Of course, now I am too old to be much of a fisherman, and now of course I usually fish the big waters alone, although some friends think I shouldn't. Like many fly fishermen in western Montana where the summer days are almost Arctic in length, I often do not start fishing until the cool of the evening. Then in the Arctic half-light of the canyon, all existence fades to a being with my soul and memories and the sounds of the Big Blackfoot River and a four-count rhythm and the hope that a fish will rise.

Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters.

Broken Yogi said...

I take it the Moode has struck you rather hard of late. Very enjoyable to see you climbing back onto the saddle. Very happy to see you riding the horse again. Very pleased to know you still can.

I prefer swimming to fishing, however. The water is really quite warm once you get used to it. Come on in, and you can swim like a fish rather than try to catch them. Let the river take you wherever it wishes. There's some rather strange but beautiful bends in this river, it winds back and forth with no seeming direction in mind, like a long skinny ocean with tiny waves to paddle upon. If you get tired, you can just float. Or if you like, we can swim underwater.

Victoria likes the underwater currents best, and I don't blame her. Above the surface, it almost seems like a small,two-dimension stream, but underwater the space explodes in all directions. It's even easier to breath once you let the water permeate your lungs. The heart palpitates and opens wide to let the current rush on through. Bubbles form and burst in tiny patterns rising to the surface. Breathing becomes another form of swimming, and the deeper we go the cooler the breaths.

Eventually, we surface at a secret lake no one knows about. I like this place a lot. I come here often. You should tag along. Hold onto my ankles and we can swim through all the caves along the way. Victoria will be there too, singing her songs. You can hear her voice resounding through your veins in the underwater. She forgets where she is, and you will too. I always do.

We can say whatever we like there, and know the water will understand and respond in kind. Words of love drip towards the surface from below, and we watch them depart from the bottom looking up. It makes such pretty patterns in the light, like bubbles of poetry. It's impossible not to love the sound of their shapes exploding on the surface. Whoever hears them falls into the water in a heartbeat. Lucky them.

Anonymous said...

Thank-you! I love when you talk this way. Now that you've stopped making sense to me (for the most part) you've begun to make perfect sense!

"Nothing but the thing itself"

You at your best! Please consider making another blog dedicated to confessions of the Love of Reality Itself. I had hoped you were headed there, here in late '07.

I didn't notice any reference to fishing in A River Runs Through It. Please clue me in.

Are you sure you are not seeing things?

All you depict is both believable and delightful! Yes, 98.6. Yes, unbridled, the Horse finds the paddock. Yes, the secondary scenery is underrated and inherently free of troubles. Yes, most of the ocean has never experienced a single wave. Yes, this amniotic loka breathes us with "soundless luxury and meaningless care". Yes, here the whale and the lost goose feather have identical atomic weights. Yes, Victoria knows of which we speak better than we ever could hope. Yes, as you say, "the Heart palpitates and opens wide to let the current rush on through." Yes, patterns continue their patterning ways, except it's "all cool". Yes, I believe you when you say you come here a lot (knowing as I do where you're coming from). Yes, I will hold on to your ankles even if it all but ensures endless somersaulting. Yes, once Her voice is "heard" it cannot help but resonate in chambers till then uninhabited. Yes, I do, to that! Yes, when Joshu was asked, "where might I find Buddha?" he responded by putting his sandals on his head and spinning like a top. Yes, in select contemplations the lucky ones are awakened to the source of the heartbeat were the moon infinitely above appears without blemish on the lake that shares your family name. Yes, now you're talk'n. Yes, talk about a taste a- honey!

My beloved Siddhartha, your beautiful words Brighten my day
keep up the good seva ---

I remain,



Broken Yogi said...


I think we've gone as far as we can here in this format. Why don't you email me and we can arrange to talk more directly?

Loving it all.

Connie Rad

Anonymous said...

Agree, will do ---


Evelyn Disk said...

Almost feel like an intruder here with such an intimate conversation (just kidding, really enjoying it) but wanted to add my two cents.

I too noticed that both Conrad and Elias have reported psychic encounters with Adi Da and I have known them both long enough to be quite certain that they would not make something like this up. So yes, that only the most prominent critics could claim such visitations is not lost on Yours Truly.

Thanks for pointing that out so I could chime in!

His Hugeness
Evelyn Disk