Sorry it’s been so long. I’ve been trying to write you. Waiting until I can say something uplifting that’s honest. The truth is, reality is harsh when the light strikes deep and we are still looking for a way to turn for comfort or resolution. I am in the inbetween in a way as never before. I have shaken my fate as I hear a knock on my door that isn’t even real. As I look in a mirror at a face that isn’t even mine. As I write words that will be forgotten or misunderstood. Even if you try and I understand, I am still just a dying breeze. Even if you understand I am trying, I am still just a fading sound in the distance. The sounds that keep me awake all night. The breeze that chills my bones. These things are me, me not knowing where to turn. In samsara there are millions of hands. All we do, something else, something new. All we drop, someone old, something passing. I am here in this and there is no escape from the eventual seeing, that this pain is unavoidable. That we have nothing else to do but awaken the awareness of this intense suffering. Why do we strive as we do for an answer. Why do I maneuver for relief even when I know there is none. Samsara is a grip that will not let go until we do. Samsara is a place that turns on itself with no friend at all. There is no escape from this tight spot of anguish. The numb of denial cannot last. And so everything is taken. Surrendered. Let go of and still I search for why or how to save us from ourself, myself. The exhaustion, the grief also has a name. That name is religion. I really did lose in this life. Over and over just one failed attempt after another. Can’t you see you’re ineffective as long as you’re in the maze still playing with doors and keys, do’s and don’t’s, inspirations and occupations. Searching for eyes deeper than yours. I cannot struggle over a wall that is insurmountable, playing by these rules. Somewhere out there…India is waiting…he will love you…people will care…there will be an answer that brings relief…the dog will stop scratching…you will make a difference…the loss will bring hope…somewhere out there…the world will sing louder…money will
solve what’s missing…tears will build new tomorrows…you won’t be afraid or weary anymore. One day you will get it right, give enough away. Say the words they’ll understand. Your life will make sense, you’ll find the ambition to care enough…to try harder. You will stop the suffering long enough to know you did something right. Right. And I dropped it all. And I left for God. Out there, way out there. 20 hours in a plane. Days in a fume filled car. Lung infection, food poisoning. Dead dark Indian eyes. Costume jewelry. Religious trinkets. Horrible, horrible light. The truth kills me until I stop breathing. I stepped in the silver blue Ganges river and my heart began aching. No joy. Only the meeting of more loss. “Soon I will be underground. I will never leave you even though you will not see me. I am the throb that makes you do the insane, the anguish that pushes you down. The flight of the arrow is because of my desperate love, the ceaseless flowing through the dark of samsaric stagnation. And the dead bodies fall into me and rise knowing we never met. And still I move…I am the river of pain filled, relentless light. I am also inside of samsara. I am also the bringer of grief.” Who wants to know? This isn’t my body. I have no home. There is no wise guru waiting. The temples are restaurants. I cannot do anything that clicks without dying to the cause. Who wants to know that truly, there is only me in this tight, hot corner. I can give up everything and it’s still not enough if I really want the truth. Nowhere. Nothing. Never ever. I went all the way to Mother India to be told, “Go back.” My heart is finally irreparably broken. I could tell you why forever and it wouldn’t matter. I keep trying to leave what can’t be left. Only seen vividly and embraced in the deepest most confusing place. Myself.
I am invisible. I hide behind a blinded curtain. I hide without trying. I wind and I wrap, unravel. Uncover, undress. Always hidden. Deep, where you wouldn’t want to go. And there I wait, under glassy water. Motionless. Spotless. Not expecting to be heard in such a place. Not hoping to be seen. Nothing. I churn you from nothing. Want me. You can’t find me. Want me more. Deeper yet never touching. Invisible. Although she moves. Feelings like water. Nothing stirred. Too low to find the source of heat. Invisible. Hold my hand. Eye drain. Circle me more. Glass. Nothing breaks her. Waves pull. Origin, beginning without end…the grief. The emptiness after the touch. No full heart, only leaking. The grief that nothing is pure. That pornographic images exist as replacements for me. More perfect, more touch worthy. The old man is walking towards me and I remember him. Myself inside the images I tried to destroy. It all hurts, this body that nobody loves. Is it in a place called India. The voiding of these, my dead fingers. Is there a land in his eyes that never knew countless girls? No, it is the end. The end of what killed me. Acute, unreachable longing for a divine beyond what I could muster. Captured in sexy swimsuit fantasies and long, shiny blond hair. Not cut and wasted, not at all hurt by pain. Seeping in through every crack and wrinkle, the sting of untouched beauty…the story. I wanted to say, there is a bigger word. A larger picture, the eyes say a million words. Words I can’t say, only touch in the space of what words can’t argue. The look of it all. And I see the tipping ocean, and I hear waves of light. And I feel sound bodies crashing. In my story. I can’t ever tell you how lonely I’ve been. I haven’t felt a word that didn’t hurt. Not a sound that didn’t ache, my eyes have been closed. Remembering silence. The roots of silence. Where I look, into noise and face the blank page. All this reaching. All this hoping. I owe you, I know. I could give you a brighter version of me if I had words to give, it’s the chapter where it all gets erased in false hope and other people’s guidelines. It’s the chapter where I lose the last letter, like the last dollar. I know this is the wall I’ve been charming. I know it’s the breech. I have received the call in the silence. I have heard the words without sound. I accept. I surrender. I turn around and I go back. It’s this corner. This hot, lonely tight corner. I write you from here. Looking for nothing at last. I surrender by choice not by force. I am the fortress. The path of the last one. There is nobody left. I saw that in their eyes. I brought Tara. I brought words carved in gold. I brought a diagram of samsara, at least a hundred years old and torn. Faded but still held. In his perfect hooves. By his three turning eyes. These are the walls. Everything changes. Even gods turn to morning’s dust. Another me. “There will never be another me.” Thank God. We already know that inside. Forget the commercial temple. The Mother Light fortress rises from inevitable death. Protect us from the lie that buries us deeper in her sorrow. Remember us inside your forgotten walls. Remind us of the noise that takes, and shakes and flattens. Rise. Rise within these walls and see. Above and below. Back and forth. Flip me into another time. Out of time. Blackened by seconds. White out. We already know there are no rules set in stone but ourselves as the rock. We already know no key fits the hole but the whole body. Fortress with no tongue. Escape my empty mouth. Get out. Slip into the release hole. Wet slide gap….I was looking for answers (Death is God’s name.) The white lotus. The clear crystal gaze. The shattered dream. Your face in my eyes. Arms that collapse under the pressure of madness. Tear back the veil, all is behind me. Underneath me, new beginnings come from the tears that drop. I stood in the doorway. I just keep looking down and you’re never there. I touch the lips of the dark, “Be silent.” I close my eyes and look within. Deeper. Falling. Lying still. These stairs, downward. You’re never there. I had skin that covered me, I read about dying. I tried all the concoctions, said all words you wanted to hear. I bled all the red left inside of the dreamer. I came to the door and I waited. I am gone. Everyone’s gone. You are the one. Down there. Never talking. But I hear. Breath dropping. The moon inside me growing large. The moon outside me disappearing. The voices fade. And God remains. Whoever you call to the bottom, I’m waiting. At the front, I am the end. Through me. I go through me. The doorway. Who are you hiding. Behind. Underneath. My love lies waiting, softly tearing skin from bone, crying eyes filled with me. My love lies hiding, whispering, listening. Defying the end of us both. I stood looking over her. There was nothing left but me, remembering how it hurt pushing through -and how she screamed God’s name loudly inside- and how I died watching her go. She died, arms filled with sky…and that, my love, is the doorway. We all pass. It is simply me. Open from below. Death is God’s name (love is the answer) I will always be here for you, I will be your home. I vow that as long as I am in this body, I will make India live in me. I will make her flourish, her rivers flow, her waters sparkle. Her temple is here. Bhagavan Das sent me this email one day. I was very sick just laying in the Indian hotel grief stricken. He said, “Pray really hard with all your heart to Mother India, she is there somewhere, the valley spirit never dies, she is the eternal Mother of the earth and sky. Endlessly creating. Endlessly pulsating. The spirit of the Valley never dies. She is called the Hidden Creator. Although She becomes the whole universe Her immaculate purity is never lost. Although She assumes countless forms. Her true identity remains intact. Whatever we see or don’t see. Whatever exists or doesn’t exist. Is nothing but the creation of the Supreme Power. She is limitless, unborn, eternal. Her essence can only be reached by the Hidden Creator. She is the very face of the Absolute. The gate to the source of all things eternal. Listen to Her voice Hear it echo through creation. Without fail. She reveals her presence. Without fail. She brings us to our own perfection…OM TARE TU TARE TURE SWAHA. You get to hold crystal Tara in your lap all the way Home. Deep mountain lake heart love.” Bodhibaba
So I prayed and I prayed, “Please live in me. Please don’t disappear so deeply that there won’t be a way, let me take you in me, with me. Possess me with your soul roots. I have nothing for them but your fruit.” And then in my mind I heard the voice of an old wise Indian man say to me, “What is temple? You are temple. Go to the holy place. It is not India. It is you. India saint. India makes you sick go home. (I said) I don’t have a home. (he said) You are home. (I said) I don’t have anything. (he said) You have you. All you need. Take home. Be well. Catch the sky. Your eyes are lit. Stars pass through. The temple is God. You find it. You will leave the place that nobody leaves because there is no way out but through. It’s only you. Great Saint. Holy land. Feet of Gold. Nowhere. Nothing. Count down. Move. Be gone.”
So it was clear that I had to return. I tried everything to make it work. I couldn’t eat, drink or breath. I am sorry. India made me very sick from the first day onward. There is nothing left worth going for. Samsara is too far reaching. We must break through this knot together. We must dig within deeper than we ever thought we could go. I cannot ask you to go to a place filthier and more toxic than anywhere I have ever been. I must do this myself. Create the Mother Light. With everything I have I will enliven her and I have only this promise left to you. Her light will prevail in ways we did not imagine. Religion is permanently broken. There is only us and the earth that we stand upon. I could barely find the words to say something too big to yet know…to say the least I have been overwhelmed and shaken to the core of truth. We are in the dark time. Darker than imagined. We are her vessel. India is not a destination. She is the essence of feminine invincibility. Nothing will stop the shine that is rising. Be with me. Help me. I need you. I cannot do this alone. Your love, support, prayers, and faith is all I have. I take your love very deeply to heart. Here we will create the Mother Light as a refuge. Together as one devoted flame. In the darkness this righteous fire will be her face. In the loss this clear seeing will be her true love. The earth knows us here and we will grow in compassion as never before. Beyond religion and boundaries no longer needed. In this fortress we call Home, God shall rise within this frail human body as the Mother Light of invincible, immaculate love. I can only promise you my broken heart forever. I can only give you myself with everything I have. Sharada Devi