Friday, October 30, 2015

hoping to feel the love.


a heck of a lot of people are overjoyed with the results of our recent federal election, an election for the ages. now, the question obviously is not whether justin trudeau is ready to be prime minister. the question now is, is he ready to be a hero?

there was a very obvious collective consciousness at work by the end of the campaign, a unity, one mind. now there's a very obvious collective hopefulness. we've seen times like this before. this is no differnt from the peace movement of the 60s, 'flower power', martin luther king jr., robert kennedy jr., the election of barak obama. but we know that heady times, unfortunately, have often been followed by disappointment.

martin luther king jr. once said: "we must accept finite disappointments, but never lose infinite hope." the desire for peace and not war, the power of a flower placed on a tank, the marches of martin luther king jr., the so-called peoples' president and the selection of a man of color as president: these were actually all tremendous successes in spite of any subsequent disappointment. the expulsion of a prime minister propagating fear, duality and bigotry was a tremendous success, a collective declaration that what we want is to feel the love.

we want indigenous people to be treated properly, their women to be protected. we want well-deserved help for the inuit, for veterans. we want the poor to be pulled up and hatred against gays and lesbians to be pulled down. we want real progress for the environment. we want young mr. justin trudeau to stand up against corporate greed, power politics and cynicism, to be a hero.

the people collectively have put him in a unique position to do some real good for this country and the world. we've gifted him this opportunity and we're kinda hoping he's ready.




Tuesday, October 20, 2015

the judge.


"i haven't spoken to my wife in a month. i didn't want to interrupt her." rodney dangerfield.

one day a judge visited the ashram and guruji announced that there was to be an important general meeting in the meditation hall. we all crowded in, sat down on cushions knee-over-knee as the 'important' people entered. guruji sat on a slightly raised platform, in his sofa-chair, while the jusge, his wife and several others took their places in chairs arranged along each side.

there were a few speeches, guruji spoke for a while and the judge gave a rather long-winded, boring talk about the spiritual traditions of india. afterward, guruji asked the judge a few questions, the last being: what do you do if you can't make up your mind about a case? the judge launched into an excruciatingly long, dry dissertation explaining the processes he goes through in making a judgment. mercifully, however, eventually guruji interrupted him, then called out my name: "hansraj."

shocked, i jumped up off my cushion near the back of the hall. i was wearing white cotton corte and lungi with rudraksh mala-beads around my neck, my dark curly uncombed hair down to the middle of my back. turning to the judge, guruji said: "this boy looks like a simple himalayan mountain man, but he is the son of one of canada's most influential judges. his father has presided over many dramatic cases, such as when a nurse was accused of killing many babies in a hospital." then turning back to me, he asked: "hansraj, what would your father do when he couldn't make up his mind about a case?"

for some reason that i cannot explain, i knew exactly how to answer. with no hesitation i said: "that's very easy, guruji. he would just bring the matter up during dinner and mom would tell him what to do."

"first of all, you've got to have talent. then you gotta marry her like i did." george burns.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

the truck crap.


so i sold the prowler. that's it that's all, as they say in masham, wherever that is. i decided i'd buy a tremendously less expensive and infinitely more maneuverable high-top truck cap instead. i decided i'd simply put my camping mattress, stove, and especially my invaluable porta-potti all in there and i'd be good to go, so to speak.

the only small problem was finding an old high-top truck crap that'd fit my old half-ton truck, but i did. it's ugly, only it fit like the proverbial glove, and not like o.j. simpson's glove. it was the right fit. at around eleven that first night, i decided to check out how difficult it'll be to get the flap and tail-gate closed from inside. i put a light shirt and pyjama pants on and sashayed out to the truck in the dark. i unlocked the flap, lowered the tail-gate, rolled in and managed to slam both shut behind me. it was really not difficult at all. i was quite pleased. however, then another little thought began to niggle at me, as i sat there in the darkness: how was i going to get out?

immediately upon realizing i had successfully locked myself tightly into the box of my truck, i had to acknowledge yet again that, in sharp contrast to my wonderful public persona, i am actually dumb as a post. i jiggled and fiddled with the mechanism for what must've been three-quarters of an hour. i'd stop and try other things, then go back to fiddling and jiggling. i got my fingers stuck several times trying to manipulate the workings of it. it felt like i was a neanderthal learning to use wooden implements for the first time or a chimp learning sign language. it did not go well. eventually i accepted the very real possibility that i might have to actually spend the night in there.

meanwhile, holding on to some semblance of intelligence, i recalled how stephen hawking allegedly once (somehow) said that 'real intelligence is the ability to adapt to changing circumstances.' i didn't really think that at the time, but it sounds good. anyway, i clawed open one of the little side windows, stared at the opening for a long time. it looked way way too small, but i somehow managed to contort my body and, one limb at a time, slither out. it was not easy. climbing out was painful. i hurt a very sensitive private part, but i don't really need my ego anymore anyway.

"i don't really get offended by all the dumb blond jokes. i know i'm not dumb. i also know i'm not blond." dolly parton.