Then the animal turns divine

Slowly the shadow reveals itself – you’re not good enough to be loved… 

we cannot use spiritual practices to abandon ourselves. To leave ourselves behind. Ultimately the spiritual practices are what give us the capacity for awareness – but the typical behavior is to disown the shadow completely in order to feel in control of the pursuit of holiness- at which point we are undermined even more subtly and we essentially become our own enemy rather than our own friend. 

Dark side of holy people wake up and come out of my childlike fantasy world.  

darkness caused by religious rules. How to accept one self entirely while also not falling into the pit of hedonism or self righteousness. 

Through him the most great teachers have come and made me a better person in the most painful way possible. Therefore he is the embodiment deepest darkness and the brightest light of very own self.

This makes me love, and accept and develop genuine compassion. Was it his plan? It doesn’t matter. We are all vessels of grace if we allow ourselves to be. If we put ourselves in that place and he did- he put himself in that place for me. 

He looked at me and I knew- if wasn’t a friendly look- we had never talked. 

The light has many secrets that only the darkness knows. Tell us.

We are attracted to those who hurt us – there is nothing that is by accident or random/ every painful experience- offers grace / processing is what yoga is- on the fast path- it’s going to happen/ what will you do- take full responsibility and drive blame into one 

The more simple we become the better off we will be.
Creating space equals clarity

The truth of human nature terrifies us and it’s a reality that we have to face.

One day at a time of clarity. One moment at a time.

Double edged sword.

Desperation. Using something to get away from something. Moving closer to something that has both hurt you and healed you. Needing something on the outside to validate your existence. Like “being a teacher” basically “being someone” because the other side of that equation is too much to survive. Desperation. Running from the place you now need to be.

It’s a scary, flimsy, groundless place– nobody can offer you an existence no matter how many testimonies they write about your “qualifications of importance.” Nobody can offer you anything although you feel needy and lost if you’re honest.
Death watches and you don’t feel like the winner.

It’s hard to define the space of that shadow – because it lurks in the silence that is filled with that desperate noise- the truth of this double edged sword is anything but acceptable.

I see the squirming everywhere. 

How do I deal with it? I try not to squirm. 

Our bodies are instruments of the divine. The pure sound of god flows thru us when we let it. 

Then the animal turns divine.

Sharada Devi

Psychic Purging

It’s all coming back. It wasn’t right, I get that now.

Mind body are one. You’ve got to get the shit out. Out of your head and out of your body. Old decaying putrefied feces, old decaying putrefied thoughts that bury toxic feelings. Our unfed heart is the prisoner of this dis-ease of mind that is effecting and is effected by the emotionally congested/black gunk infested body. Once the shit of it all is purged, the heart can finally breath. Suffocated by the numbing that turned rancid and began to leach into our pure blood, we cannot feel the clearness of anything real, we can only keep chasing away these mind demons that stuff cookies and chicken wings into our mouths. The foods that make us forget the feeling become the insulator of our internal devastation so that we no longer know who we’re reaching for in the midst of a touch upon the griefs we left buried, underneath new griefs that brought on more pain- and in our discomfort we ate things to numb us, to protect us from the dark that lie waiting like mold- we listened to people who were wrong and told us to cover our naked bodies in shame. We curdled and curled up into a little ball rotting inside the spaces we never left and we grew into new people who held the galaxy in their hearts. We were unseen, we were unheard and we were filled to the brim with things to keep us quiet. We used our bodies as the family sponge and soaked up all their dirty countertops, we washed their dirty dishes with our hearts. Now whose eating what and where does the food go, the invisible food I was fed as a child, the insidious food that made me eat more food to protect the thing I could barely feel, myself, my feelings, my joyful heart who knew what came first…but since I didn’t matter anymore, I let them pollute me, prostitute me, inculcate me into their world of getting eaten alive- from the inside out I left myself, numbed stuffed and no longer naked. From deep inside I abandoned my home and let your thoughts of me reign supreme. My new addictions led me to more, stuffing the shit with new poison. I feel sick inside and I don’t even know it anymore. Numbing my grief with the foods in the kitchen, my nervous pain of recovery is stilled into a stifling drone. I want to tell the truth, I want to hear the sky, I want them to let me go back into the pure place before them. Who I ever was, invincible and clean, innocent and searching for my wings. You held me down on the kitchen floor and made me eat 

the big dark man, the angry smiling woman, the little boy with the hurting hand. Yes, we’ve done exactly as they’ve written, we’ve taken every filthy crumb…mind body are one and we’ve been mistaken for someone else… 

regression hypnosis, the soothing voice from the dim corner, let me touch you and lead you back down the stairs where the door is opened just a peep and lets look inside at these place where we stuffed the world we thought was ours. Who we are embedded with secrets, who we are ingrained with the stars, who we are coded in sequence, who we are laden with tears. Tears that paint the Virgin Mary, tears that write Rumi,

tears that will never be dried by any cruel man.

The passage is through you into you, the rites of your riches are beyond, so far beyond the treason of your lonely mind. The body became a slave in a cell eating lie after incubus lie…my heart is as solid and loud as the storm that I shall lead. I shall break open the sky and let hell fall to earth. Raging waters, the raging inferno of me, I am the temple of everything holy…calling out to me, little shadows of days that I can never leave…days that I feel and nights that I fought from myself as only I could, get numb- let them

help you stop hurting in the way that they hurt you by turning you into them, the numb faces in the picture who have nothing to say but “I’m hungry and don’t you ever say no…” where is the gun that breaks silence and ends poison head syndrome? Where is the pill that stops a clogged up heart and drains away the pus of grandpa?

Who I loved, who left me swimming in the toilet of his shit. Yes he’s dead and I’m still digesting his pepperoni pizza and I’m still drunk on his cheap beer. Can you hear me? Can anybody hear me? God can’t be numb and lined with sticky black mucous. God can’t keep stuffing his face with old phantom friends. Feed me, feed me. Parasites that fill the fear of emptiness and slowly crowded out our diamond light are the parasites we go down on and enliven and make babies with. Monsters of heritage and sycophant

training, are the richer than you know spoonfuls of mommy’s cherry pie. “It’s your grandmother’s recipe” she said…do you hear what I’m saying?

How this death walk goes…down to the water I went in the middle of the night looking for you to tell you to stop eating in your sleep…he can’t hurt you anymore…

face down in the water, unconsciously there is a lot going on- I knew there was nothing deadly under the water while in the black of night he spun with us on top of him. Get off and lie on your back on the still dark water my brother said. The stars were out shining through the black and we were not in the middle of nowhere the bridge was right beside us in the dark. I thought it could have been the end but I was wrong, my father had gone mad spinning on the dark water deep into the night…I heard that the second book I wrote is called om mani padme hum – the return from dark water. He couldn’t breath, he was wild and dreaming. The girls held their breath giving blow jobs under water and everyone sat beneath the shadow of an avalanche while the world spun our only father into a black darkness never seen. Who gets out to see tomorrow? Who looks up to see the stars, floating on dark water nobody gets out alive. But we floated anyway, me and my brother looking up and there was the bridge “om mani padme hum is the second book” a voice said, the return from dark water into the home of the blessed. “That home is me” she said and all her kinks fell out, she stopped blowing the boy underwater and took a stand to recover the heaven she held, stars fell that night straight from her hair into the wet sky below where we lay waiting for her to wake up. Stars that we caught and held until the morning of Venus came. He held his breath for as long as he could and we never saw him again, our father who spun deep and low with us on his back slowly dying. He’s gone mad as sure as the swamp that holds dark girls underwater captive to penises larger than snakes, big snakes that hiss and pull hair. Starlit hair, sky held mirror, sinking deeper into the ecstasy of Shyam. There is nothing deadly below us I said to him, we’ve purged our soul of men that weep in guilt and spew light into throats of girls who can’t breath. I think the message here is to stop, and blow the candle to hell. The path of stars that lead over the bridge into the home of the long haired girl who saved us all with her dreams of “this could be the light that see in me, that daddy was only a ghost under water, cold with fish for eyes.” 

I get this, I really do sunrise…this was a dream and I have a long way to go to find you…my father wasn’t the devil, he was just the one who believed in sin, if the other side could win the war then god might let us in. So the dark mighty force of waters that might drown you brought to life the nightmare we call this vision, this vision who sees girls as dolls that float face down for 

$5 at happy hour…sucking out the wind and remembering all the lies, “get out of her mouth and forget her” I said, it’s still nighttime but she’s bound to wake up and bite you in two…

the force of black without a shadow is no consciousness at all. No moon to shake us loose. It’s a long dark night of opulence blinking star wounds as bright as dusk. The dawn is who I saw and named her aurora who came with the star that pulls the sun into the sky. But until then I can only remember what he sounded like before he shook his head and went down deep into my fettered soul and drug me to the bottom spinning…

He drove a big black car we called daddy and we never saw his face because he was too big. We only saw impressions of death under shadowy eyes. We saw a loop for a thought of his smile. We heard what we wanted to hear as his pants came down. Jungle bunny, python madness, moons that burn…zippers as jagged as the Himalayan mountains and secrets as hidden as the caves that held gods…

I’ve got somewhere to go eight worlds below us,

where she lie dreaming of everyone she left floating inside her…everything beside her, the bride sitting in the big black car next to him…

ropes with nooses dangle from the sky. Anchors fall into the heavy thick breath of himself. There is no light to see, only a flame as black as his shame. Me, make it me. I’m the one going down. 

5 easy dollars of doom paralyzed. You’ll find out soon enough what I’m saying…easy does it big boy. As hard as a corpse under water with dead girls sucking on maggots, with me floating like a flower still calling your name…

can’t you see the star when she cries, she cries for the darkness who leaves her. We always think we love the one who hides us, reveals us and then goes as quickly as he came…look up at me from far below at the monsters you made in the bathtub…

I imply a lot with my words so that you can find the rest for yourself. If they find us here like this they will torture us for the rest of the story. Book number one, the book they came to find, the book I never named…is the book of her secrets.

The witch stands over the cauldron while we float on our backs looking up into her starry kitchen ceiling. She stirs and she stirs him

all up in her brew…black cats with golden diamond shaped eyes stare over the edge of the cauldron watching us stew in the dark night of our souls…who could forget me while she lies dreaming? 

Psychic purging could be art. It’s not different than throwing up bad food, but we decide which words to use and we decide how to say our feelings held down until blackened, and we decide which lingerie to wear under water and we decide how to haunt him back…

beautifully said, I will always be the one who loved him no matter how many girls he bled and killed. I will be the bride of hades because I will be the queen of my own underworld. Under you, wherever I find myself I will be seeing only flames that don’t die. The truth is nirvana kills the flame. He always told the ugly truth. The truth is witches have to hunt. The truth is it’s all in the bathtub. The truth is boys don’t cry. The truth is I’m a sucker for words, words like you…

lost in the valley below are only dead bodies, not you, you aren’t the one that they left…you are the one that they buried under the covers in their bed…

wake up, the sun is shining and venus is making coffee for the ghosts…because her love never ends even after the stars have all left the sky and gone home…

making art is making love with the darkness…

in the darkness making art is the love…

making art is making the darkness love you 

more than the light…making love is the dark art of her sorcery…

psychic purging. two bodies merging. enlightened by the shadow of the killer flame…

remember that I was indeed born from the womb of a virgin, that I am an immaculate flower upon this dark water, that I am the one who brings and takes stars, that I will follow me wherever I go…

hypnosis regression. psychic purging. bonding to our bondage, drowning in the storm. telling everybody that death is only the dull byproduct of forgetting your roots. roots deeper than the tallest star, roots like tunnels that take you back into the crystal room where you lost your virginity and you promised never to tell, but god always knew you went there alone and your mother always said if you lie your face will melt off and the people always made you think that only dogs knew how to hug and so you abandoned the roots of your home in the stars and you went where everyone goes- to the dark world refrigerator of an imposter love and you ate yourself dead in more ways than one. Cold corpse walking backwards back to your bedroom, body mind are one species, heart is the way back to shyam…go deep home to before you moved out of yourself and find out what you left in the water that night…

alchemy magical heart healing soul power. in the darkness of your forgotten perfect face the muse makes heaven want her more than he wants the dead flame…can’t you see yourself in her wild open eyes anymore? her eyes that see the other brimming side of you…before they took you and filled you with their lesser world, you were made of her incantation, her spirit and her howling swirls of wind…

You have such a way with words” said the serpent who swallowed my father…

Sharada Devi 

Invoking blue fire


Mount Shasta Retreat 7/28-8/2

In this retreat I will share with you my personal practices.

We will focus on the transformative power of samadhi by invoking the Goddess Kundalini who lives in our bodies as the creative force of God. We will practice listening to her, communicating with her and channeling her through various tantric and yogic practices.  

From morning until night we will worship her from the inside out. In our sleep she will come to us in dreams and she will speak to us there.  Our bodies will become the light that is made of her, not in our heads but in our hearts…we will see, feel and hear nothing but her- everywhere.  

Samadhi is necessary for transformation and overcoming karma.  It is achieved through tapas, devotion and the decent of grace. We are only separate because we have allowed ourselves to be for a very long time. So long, that we have forgotten the light that we come from at a cellular level. The Goddess Kundalini is capable of making us remember at a level so deep our dna is altered. 

So this is really all about the dissolution of misconception. This is all about realizing the truth of who we actually are. We are rainbow crystals. 

Our life purpose as humans is all about the activation of our halo.  Everything else we’re focused on is a temporary distraction.

Because earthly life is the Diamond Body Path and the way to ascend is through her blue fire.



(silence until lunch) 

5am- cold showers (for those willing) 

5:30-6 tea 

6-7 a.m. pranayama and mahamudra meditation 

7-7:30 tea/fruit 

7:30-9am kundalini yoga, chanting  and gong bath. 

9am-11am  – channeling the subconscious – creativity – writing, dream analysis, self portrait drawings etc

11:30-2:30 (silence ends) lunch break- lake swimming etc 

2:30 – 5pm – individual sharing and creative self expression- access to microphone and “stage area” included  *each person will be videotaped *videos will be beautifully edited and sent to you after the retreat. 

5:30 – 7pm – kitchari and tea

7pm- 8pm  – moon bathing, purification fire and chanting. Om Mani Padme Hum 

8-9pm – private time 

9pm silence, journaling, prayers to the sky – and bed. 

For more information 

The Butterfly Room

She could smell the bodies burning below, from the butterfly room, where she sat. Watching, waiting for her turn. It was to be a future of flames. Did she believe in God, did it matter? Because not long from now she would find out, what awaited her on the other side. Would she know the place she was going, would she remember where she was when she got there? Would someone be there to take her at the threshold – where maybe…just maybe – her old memories were waiting. Memories of other times just like this one…where in the end, she was ok…perhaps. Or would she just disappear into the blackest silence she could imagine?

Yes, she thought about these things as she watched the unmoving butterflies on the wall. The ones she had carved with a sharp stick as the days slowly passed. The ones she remembered from the sky. That flew. Before. When she was free.

She was still young, and she was beautiful. Of course that didn’t matter now. Because all that was coming to an end. It was almost her turn. One body per day was the rate at which they killed and burned. Those like her; the dark and the evil. The ones cursed by God. They celebrated these deaths as blessed victories of their piety.

So her body became a cocoon where she hid. Until there was nothing inside but the sound of rustling wings.

The killers believed they were doing God’s work. Nothing else mattered but their fear of forces beyond their control. Whether that force be a God or a Devil  it didn’t matter, only choosing sides and acting accordingly did. Which meant she was not on there side. Based on accusations and imaginings of what she did out in the forest. Unmarried, not clothed modestly. Behaving in ways that were inappropriate to those on God’s side. Yes, this was the idea they had of her and so; like the others being sent back to hell, she had to die.

In the butterfly room time was frozen and space was tight. Flaming crosses filled their eyes. Ashes and fumes rose as she scraped wings into the walls of her body…

imagining the flower on which she would land.

(life for her is my memory. she has no name)

Sharada Devi

light, love. music and silence.

strength of focus

life can be really hard. we go through things that aren’t so easy to get over or we ourselves have a chronic condition- physical health, mental health or otherwise.  Realizing you’re going to need to make an inner declaration- when it’s either me or this thing I struggle with- who will it be?

Did I come this far to lose my autonomy, give up on myself now?

Is surrender really throwing in the towel or is this a challenge to my ability to maneuver and realign myself so that I can not be taken down but transformed into a bigger, brighter more powerful version of me?

No direction. Feels like stuck in a pattern or a hang up.

Yoga without asana is a thing, it’s the real thing. The asanas are a tool for grounding and connecting and practicing non reactivity but the so called yoga doesn’t end there bc truly, that’s not it. 

Everything I talk about is the subtle practice the challenges the reality of what becoming a complete person, not a western person practicing hinduism but a real person practicing the authenticity of themselves- and it’s not easy as there’s no ground in this place – and everyone wants what’s obvious and marketable but we are westerners and learning sanskrit words etc does not make you adept at yoga – nothing external does – not flexibility/ not any of it. 

motherlight yoga is the way I have made sense of it all based on my experience, knowledge and practical wisdom. we do need a baseline and that’s for each person to discover. within that process of that very personal self discovery there are basic ancient truths to work with. the truth of sound moving light (nada yoga) the truth of a secret fire at the base of our spines being the light of creation. (kundalini yoga) and the truth that we ourselves are the deity we are worshipping (bhakti yoga)

so there is light, love, music and silence that form creation. we are expressions of that creativity and motherlight yoga intends to refine that truth from the inside out.

because there is something in the darkness that is feeding us the light.

we need to meet it and make it ours.
Sharada Devi

Mount Shasta Retreat with Sharada Devi

July 28- Aug 3, 2022

Mount Shasta is believed by many to be a giant hollow crystal with an entire city of ancient lemurians living inside. This makes sense. I believe it’s true. There are stories and experiences that cannot be otherwise explained. You can feel it…especially at twilight.

Come to Mount Shasta and see for yourself! 

kundalini yoga •nada yoga •kirtan •meditation •mother nature and a lot more…

$648 – food and accommodations included. $108 deposit required. 

Om Mani Padme Hum ❤️

Mount Shasta Retreat with Sharada Devi 7/28- 8/03, 2022



☀️July 27 – Aug 2, 2022

❤️$648 for 6 nights and 7 days. *I have done my very best to keep this retreat as affordable as possible.

☀️organic Ayurvedic mono meals and basic accommodations are included in cost. 

❤️ choice of accommodations – can be dorm style or you can bring your own tent and camp – (it’s in a national forest) – there are plenty of nice bathroom facilities in the main house and the gathering hall.

☀️bring an instrument that you can play. (optional)

❤️ $108 non-refundable deposit to reserve your space.

☀️ balance is due by 7/10/22. (non-refundable but can be applied to future retreats)

❤️ send email to – for questions and to reserve your space. ❤️☀️

This kind and wise, mystery person just wrote this on my YouTube…

and it’s written so well with such clarity. I don’t know who this person is but I thank them for making me feel such relief. Because I’m so weary of the game.

Yes, I am currently writing the memoir, “Be Here Then.” I’m about 1/3 done…

but it’s a lot to go step by step through every memory so graphically – reliving them all -so I can write it into something readable. It’s sad and stirs up the old feelings….plus I do get tired of most everyone’s interest in me – really being only about their interest in him…maybe I get resentful. But I tell myself it’s not their fault, I would probably be the same way. He does have a way about him (well, at least he used to) …and I go through days and weeks saying to myself, “Why did I have to get mixed up in this…why couldn’t it have been something or someone else…how could I do this…become a discarded manager, cook, bell player back up singer…when I know that I am more…I know that I am- it’s just a weird mess…

but then, if I’m honest – I realize it’s probably the best thing that could have happened to someone like me. Raised in a cult, abused as a child, not allowed to go to college (the cult wouldn’t permit it)

All I had was my devotion to Kali because I had discovered her on my own in a dream -as a way to not fear my own darkness- because I did. I was terrified of myself. If sounds crazy but I was on a serious path of self destruction once I realized God didn’t “love me because my heart wasn’t pure” or rather I “didn’t love the God that planned on killing everyone who wasn’t in the cult….so once I found my own God miraculously I was reborn. For years I searched and when I met BD it was the perfect toxic, yet enchanting combination. Me and him. He embodied all the Kali I needed- and mostly I didn’t -because his “version” of Kali was demonic and mine wasn’t. So we went to war. I won – and so I stayed to convert him so I could get behind him- (in his shadow as he would say- but apparently his shadow was mine too) and he could continue to inspire people like only he could do. I lost my inspiration but never my love. I have wounds that I don’t think will heal, but I do my best. My love still isn’t lost – it’s just swarming….all around me.

Protecting me mostly – but stinging me sometimes with its brutal light. I guess that’s how I see the love I feel. I guess that’s who I was as well. BD cannot stop me from loving him. I will not only love him to death but beyond that – beyond the betrayal and disgrace. All the stupid lies…

He never dreamed – but while we were together he had 2 dreams and they were very vivid and life like I was told. In one dream he was introducing me to Neem Karoli Baba and it was a bliss filled dream in which I became NKB’s daughter (because BD was his “son” in Hindu culture due to the ritual they performed at the kumbh mela.) In another dream he was worshipping me as a holy child upon a throne when a waspy woman from underneath reached up from the darkness – grabbed his wrist and loudly hissed , “Don’t forget about me!” He was terrified and said his wrist was burning when he woke up. That dream upset him – he even brought it up years later…he would say, “I just want to worship you…I don’t want to be with her.”

Over four years ago he started acting out and would not stop- so from Guatemala I went to India – and upon leaving I said, “Deal with your darkness, I’ll be back.” But he didn’t. (And I had meant what I said- I had a long talk with him the night before I left)

Instead he started partying and searching for women …who could replace me. And now, here we are trying to wake up from that bad dream. I want to wake up. I want to be the golden light, like how I saw Kali before she showed me her dark side that this world seems to love so much. And I don’t think Kali is some sexy, black bitch goddess. I think she is the sky – and the sky changes. But not really. The sky is like love, always there. NKB told BD – “you will leave me but I will never leave you.” And it’s funny, because that’s how I feel too. It’s hard to watch someone you love hurt themselves and hurt you- and especially when it hurts others and makes people feel deceived, disoriented, discouraged- I get it. It takes a horrible courage. And I’m still here.

This comment is from my YouTube channel -that I appreciate so much- this kind and wise – mystery person, I thank you.

love, Sharada Devi

I think a lot of people who participate in the “spirituality” sphere seem to think being spiritual means being “positive” and “loving” all the time, but they often completely miss the mark. Truly being spiritual, positive, loving (whatever you name it) isn’t being a passive push over who remains unaffected by pain/sorrow/guilt/shame/darkness/etc. It means always striving for authenticity. Turning the other cheek doesn’t mean allow oneself to be walked all over and abused. Sometimes love is fierce. Sometimes love says no. Sometimes compassion is telling someone they are fucking up; telling yourself you’re fucking up. It’s not burying your anger/fear/sorrow and pretending to be “positive”. It’s allowing what IS to BE, so it can come to the surface and heal. You did what you had to do for yourself, and for Kermit (I think he’s had enough God complex stroking), it’s unfortunate that he didn’t use your split as a catalyst to dive deep and look at his own pit of despair and wake of destruction (we all have one). Sometimes the right thing to do is the thing that will hurt the most. The hurt is good. It’s possibly the only times in our life that are truly authentic. Until we face our demons they will continue to haunt us and those we interact with. Personally I made a decision to throw out most of my “spiritual” paraphernalia a couple years ago because I saw through the facade. It was all a lie. Those beads didn’t bring me peace. I wasn’t utilizing the teachings in those books. I was pacifying myself with a warm blanket of “spirituality”. My anger still persisted, and every single look in the mirror was met with shame. I wasn’t being true. I had to let it all go and start over. I’m still flawed. I still have inner pain that needs to be worked out, but at least I’m not hiding anymore. At least actively 😂. I appreciate you. I think the people who are shitty to you are just Bhagavan fanboys who use him as an idol, as their own security blanket, and if their beloved “holy man” is so unholy then their illusions begin to fade, and they just can’t have that. I also think a lot of these people are so out of touch with true love that they simply don’t understand what you’re doing. They don’t realize you are acting out of love rather than a place of malice. That’s the thing with these people: they push away everything bad and icky because they don’t understand love. They don’t understand that love is without condition. They fear being authentic because they think they’ll be rejected the same exact way they reject all the ugly in their life. It’s sad. I still have a tremendous amount of love for Bhagavan Das. Without him Richard Alpert never would have met Maharaji, and I very well may never have been introduced to Hindu philosophy. So many cultural phenomena balance on upon that point in time. I think you said it on your blog, but they really are still all living in the 60s. They’re still chasing the high of Maharaji. It’s like they never heard the words he spoke. They’re still searching for an external guru, search for their next hit like drug addicts. I saw a recent video of Krishna Das and Rhagu in India with some “guru” (much younger than them) touching his feet and fawning over him. They looked like the same lost, scared, sad children that ran off to India some 60 years ago. What happened to be here now? Anyway, I’m done now. Blessings to you in this new year. I’m looking forward to reading the book you’re talking about writing. I’ve always wanted some real insight into the underbelly of the Bhagavan Das/Ram Dad’s/Neem Karoli Baba cult (respectfully. Not using cult as a pejorative) With love.

Mount Shasta Retreat with Sharada Devi 7/28- 8/03, 2022

We are returning to Mount Shasta this summer! This retreat will be unlike any other. Make the pilgrimage to this holy mountain where you are free to be both the wild yogi and the howling goddess.

There will be meditation, fire ceremony, dancing, singing and yoga. There will be sharing from the heart, art and creative writing. There will be love and support and inspiring transformational awakenings…and still there will be more unexpected mystical magic!

You will not want to miss this opportunity to make new friends and reunite with friends from before. It’s always such a fun, easy going and purifying experience out in the sacred forest with amazing views of the divine mountain. Swim in the lake or sit by the river. Take a walk through the wild flowers or stare at the stars…rejuvenate your soul and ignite your spirit. Remember the Mother Light!

$648 for 6 nights and 7 days.

*organic Ayurvedic mono meals and basic accommodations provided.

*choice of accommodations can be dorm style or you can bring your own tent and camp – (it’s in a national forest)

*bring an instrument that you can play.

$108 non-refundable deposit to reserve space.

balance due by 7/10/22. (also non-refundable but can be applied to future retreats)

*send email to – for questions and to sign up.

left for free

to radhe, (the reason why is)

ever since I left the casket of his wife

people stopped reading my blog.

thousands of entries and

millions of tears later…

you write about these dresses

from a body long ago.

nobody wants to know what it’s like

to be buried by someone else’s life.

I am for free, I cannot charge,

because nobody wants to pay,

like I did – or even a dollar.

to me, who gave it all.

my self, my body, my soul.

I float, and I hear

what you are all thinking.

deep in heads, the sky particle.

needles, flesh, fear.

my words were there, listen.

however much you try

to escape, you won’t.

not until you’ve left the man.

the man, who uses, abuses

and we ignore the lies…

put your mask back on,

sacrifice your body.

pretend…keep pretending.

remember the lights…

in the basket woven of twigs…

that basket was woven of me…

the dresses were filled with the wind.

is that why you loved,

that picture, because

in that flash nothing had to be real,

just a whisper. a light not yet captured…

but it was.

the light that escaped the crowds

of the people who already left,

they belong to him, not me.

I am empty, not seen.

because it is impossible to stop

the flash and hold it…

and that’s what I don’t yet understand

about myself.

love. sharada devi