Seattle WA May 27th - May 31st

I told Amma before I left to return to SF for work Tuesday- that during bhava darshan, I do not have words for this pain. The word I used was Virat. I have written perhaps more than a thousand poems. Perhaps more like five times that. But they are lost, or here and there. I don't have anything to write anymore. I want to dive deep into meditation and find my God there. I do not want to speak about it or express it. Let it die in me, and let this I die, so that One can find space within. I had longed to put my head on her shoulder and rest. They say the Mother does not get rest, but that is not true. She is eternally at rest. It is us, in this wheel that keeps churning at her command. I am tired, I want to rest in Her. I want to be close.

WA Programs Summer 2011

Another Start of a New Summer Tour, 2011- May, June, July.

Too many things happened in the Seattle programs. The experiences witnessed with Malu , alone could fill up this post. But I'll leave that for when my mind is more lucid.
But to note however, Malu wrote a poem that Amma really liked and said had the bhava and is now being transformed into bhajan via Swarna or Hari Chettan or both.

I made some food for Amma, much of which sucked except the black quinoa and the baked almonds. Amma said the 25 years of eating sugar has caused her to watch out for it now, and can't take peanuts people said.

Though my love has expanded in my heart, the pain has only increased. Amma again reitereated, the one point I found most important. Continue, take the pain, suffer through it, and expand yourself. I find myself opened to new understandings. Not spiritual heights, but kindness. It is now exuding from my pores. I find myself able to catch the tune of a bhajan immediately now. I think that love has grown deeper, and unfolded itself. Numerous lessons have I learned this time. But the continued effect, of this seperation and longing eat away at my soul. I wonder if with my two eyes I will be able to see Her form, as it appears when you are in her Physical presence. People worry about the masters body. I do not. She is the storehouse of infinte strength. If she fails, then all our worlds fail; so how can it be ? My attitude is that of a small child with its Mother. I cannot protect Her. But it is my duty to do what she asks of me, and propogate her teachings through my actions and thoughts. Love , I now know is the highest truth. Sadhana evolves from it, knowledge is a product of deep , surrendering love. Wherever a great Jnani exists, know that a great wide heart is present. My master, some would say is unparalled. I do not make such claims. If she were a blade of grass , I would have loved her all the same. It is the eternal principle she stands for. How much, I have suffered, how many nights I have meditated, and still, still I find it difficult to pierce her mysterty. Still my mind is covered by anger, lust, and fatigue. Amma, and Vivekananda said the same thing to me- Strength. Have it. It is the most important teaching. Become powerful, adorable, and let that light come out .

The Bay Area housing market is very supply-constrained, which means that house prices rise quickly once housing demand picks up even a little bit. :: Dr.Mark Zandi (UPENN), Chief Economist, Moodys.

" The defining characteristic of crony capitalism is the ability of favored elites to loot with impunity and the failure of regulators to do their jobs" - Commentary William K. Black (Bloomberg).

We have been captured,
brothers. And we labor
to make our getaway, into
the ancient image, into a new

correspondence with ourselves
and our black family. We need magic
now we need the spells, to raise up
return, destroy, and create. What will be

the sacred words?

AB

Lately, I've become acustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelopes me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad edged silly music the wind
Makes when I run for a bus . . .

Things have come to that.

And now, each night I count the stars,
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.

Nobody sings anymore.

And then last night, I tiptoed up
To my daughter's room and heard her
Talking to someone, and when I opened
The door, there was no one there . . .
Only she on her knees, peeking into

Her own clasped hands..

- LRJ
From Preface to a Twenty Volume Suicide Note.

I picked up a book at Goodwill, amongst one other item. A cedar tie rack, for 1.99$. And the same price for this book by Amiri Baraka- Well, more of a reader. Sometimes when you look, and your open you find little things. Grand schemes , in little designs.

Here's one of his poems

'die schwartze Bohemien'

They laught,

and religion was something
he fount in coffee shops, by God.

It's not that I got enything
against cotton, nosiree, by God
It's just that...
Man lookatthatblonde
whewee!
I think they are not treating us like Mr. Lincun said they should
or Mr. Gandhi
For that matter. By God.
ZEN
is a bitch! Like ''Bird'' was,
Cafe Olay
for me, Miss.

...
..
......................
He was by no means illiterate. His style is complex and plain at the same time. Like an excellent use of common language in the hands of a semantics debonaire.
Vous etes de faux Negres- Rimbaud