the serpent power.

 

hey sam; 

i'd like to attempt an answer to your question: what is kundalini and do i think (or know whether) that's open in you?

i'm not going to pretend to know for sure how it all works. but my understanding, from my years of self-enquiry and meditation, is that we're all born with open kundalinis. infants have wide-open kundalinis. ancient sages have said that open channel, the kundalini, is like an ethereal or spiritual umbilical cord connecting each of us to the whole, the one life that permeates all. 

unfortunately, it seems that the kundalini shuts down, becomes blocked, more or less, through the life. and that robs us of so much, causes many problems. that's why we turn to drugs, alcohol, relations after relations: anything that offers us momentary highs, releases. meditation is a practice, a process meant to reopen that channel while not taking away from all that we've gained as grown-ups. that's why we find meditation so relaxing, even intoxicating and, for lack of a better word, enlightening. 

some yogis and meditators live those moments in prolonged and deeply internalized periods, continuously in fact. i cannot know what's happening in another person's so-called inner world. and these concepts all might seem foreign. however, all that to say, in regard to whether the kundalini is open in you to any great degree: i wouldn't be the least surprised.

best wishes, merry christmas and happy new year, to you and yours; nathan. 

all i am saying.

'everybody's talkin 'bout

revolution, evolution, masturbation, flagellation,

regulations, integrations

meditations, united nations, congratulations.'

recently, one of my friends told me he believes it'd be a good idea for a sizeable percentage of the world's population to remain unvaccinated... just in case.

apparently he thinks there may be, you know, some wide-spread catastrophic side-effect from the vaccines down the road. he then also alluded to the possibility of a hugely wealthy and powerful coterie pulling the strings, like puppeteers, of the world's leaders. i had not realized how far down that rabbit-hole he'd travelled. now i realize he's burrowed out a friggin bunker down there. 

well, i have no intention of losing friends over the controversies surrounding vaccinations or other pandemic-related issues, unless my sarcasm's too... sarcastic for one or another. it certainly wouldn't be the first time. it just seems that we collectively have once again found a minority group to suppress, repress, oppress, and i'd rather not. they're already not allowed to travel, not allowed into shops, some may well lose their jobs, have already lost friends and relations. i know people who angrily refuse to associate with anti-vaccinated people even from a great distance. i'd prefer to reason with simple logic. i'd prefer to discuss, cajole, even plead. and if none of that fails to convince them then, ok, round the fuggers up.

'ev'rybody's talkin 'bout

bagism, shagism, dragism, madism, ragism, tagism

this-ism, that-ism, ism, ism, ism.'

the fact is, you mess with my buddies, you mess with me. we may not always agree, but they're all i've got. if one or another has fallen into a hole, hell, i'd rather throw down a rope, dangle a carrot: find a solution. i told my guy that, if it gets crazy enough, i'll do his grocery shopping. he seemed genuinely touched by my offer, until i added that of course i'll have to leave the bags at the end of his driveway. the fact is, you don't need to be unvaccinated to stand up for their human rights. 

i'm happily vaccinated, ready for the booster at some point. and i frankly like the whole passport concept. i accept what the world's top doctors, researchers and scientists have been saying now for many months. but the fact also is that some do not agree. they rant against the main-stream media, quote other sources, pull out articles they've stuffed into desk-drawers down in their bunkers. however, there are examples throughout history of dissenting opinions having eventually proven to be bang on. so let's not dig a bunker of our own, at least not so deep that we can't crawl out if need be.

all i am saying is: let's take a breath, hopefully void of coughing and wheezing. let's take a step back and a deep breath. all i am saying is: let's give peace a chance. let's figure this out, together. 

'c'mon, ev'rybody's talking 'bout

ministers, sinisters, bannisters, canisters,

bishops and fishops and rabbis and popeyes and bye-bye,

bye-bye.'

meditation: what i know so far.

This article is written for those special people who have become interested in or perhaps even fascinated by the idea of meditation. If you’re searching for instructions into a Reiki Level 1 course, Tarot cards, healing with crystals or how to contact your dead grandmother, this will not work for you. As wonderful as all those things may be, this article is exclusively concerned with explaining the pure, ancient and highly respected science of meditation, how and why to include it in your life. There is really no certification at the end of studying and practicing. There is, however, tremendous relaxation, a profound sense of well-being and a greater understanding of something rather vague I call ‘self-knowledge.’

At the start of one of my sessions, a severe-looking lady asked what my qualifications were for teaching. A lesser man might've broken down, admitted to being a total fraud. What I said, what I always say, is that I have no certificate or accreditation from any institute. I invited her to feel free to read the back of one of my books to learn a bit of my personal history, specifically as it pertains to the study, experience and teaching of meditation. But most importantly, I added, one has to rely on one’s own intellect and power of discrimination in order to choose who is worth listening to on any subject, especially this one. Moreover, ultimately, one has to take what is useful from any teacher or technique that guarantees results. Even the historical Buddha allegedly said that any technique worth employing must help a person in his or her life, here and now, right away.

The main teacher of the two main teachers in my life, Swami Shyamji, once gave me a piece of advice that I continue to keep close to my heart. As I was leaving his Himalayan hermitage to join a six-month, silent Vipassana Buddhist meditation retreat in Maharashtra, India, I asked if he had any last minute words of advice. “Yes, I do,” he said smiling impishly. “My advice is: Don’t be a Buddhist, be the Buddha.” And with those words ringing in my ears I slithered away. Along with countless other words from Swamiji over the years, I’ve never forgotten that advice. I’ve often repeated it to my so-called students and even expanded upon it. Don’t be a Buddhist, be the Buddha. Don’t be a Christian, be the Christ. Don’t be a Hindu, be Krishna. Don’t be a Sikh, be Guru Nanak. Don’t be a Jew, be Moses. Don’t be an asshole, be Trump.

So, no matter who we choose to listen to, sit with or learn from, it’s up to each of us to dig our own freedom, to find our own way, to become the enlightened one with no certificate to show for our trouble. Just freedom. It is in the light of this realization that I humbly offer these suggestions. In reality, I am not a teacher and you are not a student. If what I write is true and if it strikes a responsive chord within you, then we are united in that understanding. We are united not as teacher and student, but as Truth itself.

Having said all that, I should add something about why it may be helpful to seek some form of guidance or a ‘teacher’ when beginning to examine the science of meditation. One needn’t stay for long. One needn’t cook or clean for him or her, do anything strange in bed or hand over one’s money. What one must do is take advantage of the experience of a fellow traveler who has gone before, who has been up the path and who just might know the tricky twists and turns to watch out for along the way. And there’s one more reason to sit with someone whose meditation practice has matured. The rare people who have dedicated themselves to the process over many years actually emanate a spiritual essence, a vibration that is transmitted to those around them. That may sound terribly mystical, but it’s a fact and a quality not to be underestimated.

On one visit from India many years ago, my dad asked why meditation seemed to have helped me so much, but not my sister, who had also been meditating for some years. She was a devotee of a highly respected teacher, master and guru from India, Swami Yogananda, who had been a pioneer in bringing the information about meditation to the western world. Unfortunately, really, he passed away long before my sister ever heard of him. I replied to my dad that I didn’t have a definitive answer to that question, assuming that he was even correct. But I offered a possible explanation. I said that if one wanted to learn to play the piano, it wouldn’t really be of any use to sit in front of a photo of one’s teacher placed on the music stand above the keys. Why would meditation be any different? Why, for that matter, would religion be any different? It’s interesting that all truly enlightened people have said that we are one life, one energy, one love, irrespective of caste, race, creed, color or any other apparent difference. Why does the essential and original message of the enlightened beings through the ages become so perverted as to cause wars? Don’t be a Buddhist. Be the Buddha.

There’s really nothing hard to understand about meditation. And yet, it’s widely misunderstood here in the western world, and even in its home country, India. From the Sanskrit word, dhyaan, meditation has become synonymous with all things flaky and maladjusted. It’s been blamed for wasted talents and even wasted lives. Nothing could be further from the truth. I will admit that I put the Saran Wrap in the refrigerator and the milk in the cupboard once in a while. But I, along with so many other people who have spent years meditating, have found something so fine, so beautiful and freeing that nothing can compare with it. Rather than blame the proud process of meditation for our foibles, we praise it as the cause of our deep sense of well-being.

My teacher, early on, once said, “Nathan, the same mind that has gotten you into trouble can get you out of it.” In those days I rather hoped drugs might be the answer. But he assured me that was wrong, that drugs would only ruin my nervous system. I still prefer a mild pain-killer for headaches. However, somehow I came to understand that meditation is a powerful tool. Once trained, I realized, the mind could be used against the enemies of true happiness, such as a myriad of physical ailments, mental complexes and even the innate fear of death. Apparently, the Buddha was known to say that desires are the root cause of all problems. My mother said that lack of money is the root cause of all problems. My friend Danny seemed to think that not having many relationships is the root cause of all problems. Since I tried my mom’s solution and Danny’s solution for a while, I decided to try the Buddha’s, even though I never actually met the fellow. I thought I saw him once at a party, but I couldn’t be sure. Be that as it may, I was pretty concerned about losing my desire for money and relationships if I began to meditate. My girlfriend at the time was even more concerned. Now I see that’s not how it works. You don’t have to give up anything. You only have to add one thing to your life: a few minutes of meditation daily. Then sit back and watch it enhance whatever else you’re into. Watch it help you let go of what you want or need to let go of. Watch it make you see the cup as half full. Watch it make you happy.

One of the most prevalent misconceptions about meditation is that you have to stop your thoughts, kill your mind. What one has to stop, cut or kill is only the concept. Leave your mind alone. To allow a wild horse to settle down, it probably isn’t a great idea to put it in a very small corral. It’s far more preferable to give the creature a large, wide-open field to roam around in. It'll settle down on its own. In the same way, it’s far better to let the thoughts come and go freely. Merely sitting or lying down for some time each day and applying the technique assures one of a positive result. Only your misconceptions concerning what you’re doing can get in the way. The very act of stopping for a while will have a positive influence on your day, your life. That’s because, actually, you do not meditate. You just need to get out of the way for meditation to happen naturally. I'll explain. It’s easy, yet very few people will do it.

Dhyaan actually means ‘attention’ or ‘contemplation.’ Whether a mantra (usually a Sanskrit phrase) or the breath becomes your chosen point of attention, the results of meditation, as I’ve said, are assured. Done with the right understanding, your mind will settle down, you will enjoy a heightened sense of well-being. Done with continuity, you will be well on your way to becoming a more contented person, walking happily through life while, of course, sometimes spoiling the milk by putting it in the cupboard. 

There are three states of consciousness that everyone is very familiar with: the waking state, the dreaming state and the deep sleep state. From the moment of conception, the ancient sages have said, a person begins to forget that he or she has a fourth state, which is called Turiya in Sanskrit. This state permeates all the other states, just as water is the essence of the iceberg. So the very act of stopping all your activities and tuning in to the essence of your existence, which is what you’re effectively doing in meditation, will take care of a lot. And the benefits are many.

In eastern philosophies and scriptures, you’ll often read that whatever is transitory cannot be said to be real. You’ll read that whatever is eternal is real and true. So this body, mind, ego mechanism is in that case not real or even existing. The ancient sages said that there is, in fact, no death because there was no birth. The space from whence ‘we’ come from, to where ‘we’ go, is considered real. The technique becomes, in the light of the previous paragraph, like an anchor. Utilizing it helps bring one’s attention back to one’s own self, to the reality of the essential life animating your body and mind. The technique helps us stop. As well, the technique trains the mind to focus like a laser beam, which will have far-reaching effects on your day, your life and, ultimately, your true knowledge.

The Vedantic scriptures liken the mind to a monkey flitting from branch to branch, tree to tree. Our mind flits from object to object and from thought to thought. We become so extraverted over the course of the years, or even as each day progresses, that it behooves us to find a way to regroup, so to speak. So, when we’ve decided to let the thoughts come and go freely while we sit and watch, we merely add one new thought. The phrase, or mantra, becomes a very significant and enjoyable thought as time marches on. All true mantras mean virtually the same thing: ‘I am the pure life, the essential energy animating all the forms.’ There is a popular Buddhist mantra that goes ‘Om mani padme hum’: ‘Behold the jewel within the lotus flower.’ There is a popular Hindu mantr that goes ‘Amaram Hum Madhuram Hum’: ‘I am immortal, I am blissful and indivisible.’ All real mantras basically refer to the one life, the one light at the center of all beings, the energy that animates all the forms.

It is often noted that Sanskrit is used for mantras because the vibration of the phrases resonate within the human mind to open certain spiritual channels. For an in-depth dissertation on the vibrational qualities of Sanskrit, I recommend Chaytna’s book, ‘Let’s Learn Hindi,’ which can be found through her website; www.letslearnhindi.com. I’ve always used the Sanskrit word; ‘Shyam’, as my mantra. It’s the name of my teacher and of the power that sustains life. It really doesn’t matter what mantra you choose, although Sanskrit mantras are the most recommended. However, choosing a mantra and sticking to it is important. Meditation is a technique of being one-pointed, after all. Chogyam Trungpa once wrote that western people tend to try many different techniques, which is like a thirsty person digging many shallow wells but never hitting water. He wrote that we should dig one well deep enough to achieve the desired result.

Having chosen a mantra, or been given one by a spiritual guide, master or guru, you’re ready to begin. My teacher used to say that you should be able to meditate anywhere unless somebody is physically shaking you. I once climbed all the way down to the bottom of a dormant volcano in Hawaii, called Haliakalu, in a quest to find the perfect spot for meditation. A hut had been constructed there for trekkers or foolish folks looking for a perfect spot to meditate. I felt so sure I’d finally found my place. Unfortunately, since there were no panes of glass nor screens in the windows, a couple of flies flew fairly frequently in there making a racket like they were at the El Macombo on a Saturday night. I left in a huff the next morning. 

Later, on my way to India for the first time, I was compelled to sleep on the rooftop of a hotel in Peshawar after a long and tiring day of travel. The noise level from the crowds up there and the hollering, smoke and smells from the streets below were off the charts. I was convinced meditation would be a wasted endeavor in such a place. But, I had little choice. It was my rule to sit every evening one hour. And after an hour, in spite of my misgivings, I felt rejuvenated, refreshed. As well, contrary to popular belief, it’s not necessary to sit ramrod straight with legs crossed. It’s not even necessary to sit at all. You can lie down, settle into a comfortable chair or sit on a cushion with legs out or crossed. Since meditation is first a process of relaxation, let the sense of ease be your guide. You should feel relaxed and comfortable.

It’s easy to find a spot where there is very little noise. It’s easy to find a spot where there are virtually no pungent odors, unless of course you don’t bathe. It’s easy to find a spot where you’re not touching anything other than the pillows. But how does one get away from one’s own mental projections? As I’ve said before, the first thing to not do is mind your own thoughts. Don’t mind your mind. Remember, the same mind that got us into trouble can get us out. The mind is a trickster, a monkey. It will first distract you from your mantra and then make you feel bad for being distracted. Allow your thoughts to come and go freely. Decide beforehand that you won’t feel bad about them. Because I promise that you will be distracted again and again. So each time you realize you’ve been thinking or listening to a noise or feeling pain, pleasure or a strong emotion of some sort, just go back to your mantra without any sense of self-recrimination. There’s no need to beat yourself up over this. You can even get right into thinking, about your day, your life. You can get into thinking about life itself, pure, free and forever. Just keep returning to your mantra, again and again.

It is important to understand that whatever one perceives and experiences in meditation, just as in ones day-to-day life, is transitory and changing. Whatever one thinks, hears, whatever pain, pleasure or strong emotion one experiences will have a beginning and an end. So, when you meditate it is useful to just watch it all. Don't try to get away from anything or hang onto anything. Just practice being the watcher of it all. The same uninvolved observer who was watching as a young boy or girl is the same one who is watching now. As your body has grown and as you’ve gained more and more skills, qualifications and life experiences, that watcher has never changed. That one has been watching all the changes and is watching still, unchanged, uninvolved. That uninvolved observer has always and will always be fine throughout the life and even after. Think about that.

In spite of what I wrote earlier, I am going to suggest two more techniques. Because I feel sure that the people reading this dissertation, like the people I keep meeting, and especially now with the right understanding, are brilliant enough to decide which is best suited to them and how to use the information offered here. 

The first of these two techniques is called Anapana, with a soft ‘a.’ It is a technique of concentrating on the breath. Anapana is referred to as the maha mantra, the ultimate mantra. The reason is that it’s the least tangible, the subtlest point one can attend. There’s virtually no form to watch, no form to hold on to with your mind. However, the ancient sages have said that it’s a bridge between the part of us that’s transitory and the part that’s eternal, the source of our energy. I have often suggested it can also be combined with mantr.

The million-dollar question is this: Can you allow the inhalation and exhalation to happen on its own without asserting yourself? Can you stop doing anything and just observe your own breath? While sitting, slouching or lying down, or while waiting to be wheeled in for your gall-bladder operation, put your attention on the nose-nostrils-upper-lip area and watch the breath. Don’t follow your breath in or out. This is not a breathing exercise. Watch the inhalation, the exhalation and the spaces between. And, again, as often as your attention is deflected into your thoughts, the noises around you or the pain in your tummy, that many times you have to go back to your chosen point of attention. And don’t bother being bothered by being bothered by being distracted.

You may not think you’re having a very peaceful meditation. As I’ve already pointed out, you may think you’re wasting your time. Just keep in mind that rooftop in Peshawar and give peace a chance. There is no such thing as a bad meditation. You may doubt that you can do it. You may doubt that you should do it. I suggest that you be patient and give yourself time. In one of my recent sessions, a lady said that she really didn’t understand what she was doing while meditating. That was a valid point. It was a valid point because she was not doing anything. We’re not used to stopping. We’re not used to letting go. It’s much simpler to run around the block for a half hour than to stop all our activities for the same time period. It’s the most worthy and yet the most difficult of all activities. It's easy and hard. In fact, it’s too simple. And don’t get stuck on the technique. You can just watch the space, so to speak. You can decide. You are the teacher. You are the path.

Which brings me to my third suggestion, my last technique. This simple technique is close to my heart. In fact, it's close to everyones heart. Here's how this one goes: 

Just think about a person you have loved with all your heart. Dwell upon that person, or even that pet, you have been most enamored of, most attached to, the being whose presence you have most treasured. Even if he, she or it is physically no longer in your life, even if the memory causes you pain, don't turn your thoughts away. The pain is because there was that much love, that much oneness and I assure you the pain and pleasure are not two different realities. 

After a few moments, let go of that person or being and put your attention on the feelings, dwell on those feelings, follow those feelings to their source deep within you. Because those feelings existed long before the object of your love came in front of your eyes and other senses. Those feelings and that heart-space have always been there. Eventually, you can envision a pond that, when a pebble is tossed into it, causes ripples to spread out from the center. Let those waves, the vibrations, ripple throughout your body and flood your system with all that goodness. Envision that life-sustaining healing power spread throughout your body and even beyond. But, mostly, dwell on that place, space, center, the force, the source of your love. 

One of the first things you’re likely to notice is that the quality of your thoughts will change. You probably won’t feel like hollering at your wife or husband so much anymore, tying a tin can to the tail of your neighbor’s cat, back-ending the guy who just cut you off. You may feel uncharacteristically charitable. When that happens, and it will, you may think something is wrong. Of course, if the new thought processes seem strangely soothing, continue. It won’t be long before you’ll get the feeling you’re looking for. When one is sitting, continuously placing ones attention on or identifying with the watcher, one is essentially developing equanimity. Each time one says ‘pain’ rather than ‘my pain,’ or ‘pleasure’ instead of ‘my pleasure,’ one is essentially stepping back from the ever-changing phenomenon just a tiny bit. In that way a person will observe again and again how all of ones sensory perceptions, whether pleasant or unpleasant, change. But a person will also observe again and again how the observer, the watcher, remains ever the same. In that way, one is travelling in the right direction and eventually, aside from any deeper effect, an ability to pause before reacting to whatever is going on around you is necessarily developed. And that ability to take a moment, even a split moment, to act creatively rather than react blindly, is incredibly valuable.

When a person throws an insult in your direction, for example, and you catch it as though it’s a bouquet of roses, the insult loses all its power. It would be tempting to underestimate the technique I’ve suggested. But before discarding the practice out of hand to return to your Scrabble game, you may find it interesting to dwell on the fact that there are thousands of people around the world who have dedicated their lives to doing nothing else. Of course, then you’ll have to figure out if they’re all misguided idiots or folks who have actually discovered a way to answer first-hand those insidious questions that linger in our minds from early childhood. While everyone is striving for name, fame and fabulous wealth during this lifetime, people tend to lose sight of one very important fact. In a hundred years or so, nobody you know now will be alive. And nobody who is alive will really care who you were.

There are certain things that don’t go well with meditation. Smoking cigarettes, smoking dope and drinking copious amounts of alcohol tend to be counterproductive. Heroin, crack and meth are not recommended. It’s a matter of going from the grosser to the subtler. And in that regard I would also take the chance to suggest eating less meat, especially red meat, and consuming more fruits and vegetables. People who are completely into eating animals on a regular basis might not appreciate my writing that. But, I think it’s really very important that I do. I only hope you don’t come after me with a meat cleaver muttering something about it being all fine if you use the right spices. In fact, as i've said, nobody need necessarily 'cut' out any pleasures whatsoever. Just add one more thing to your life. Meditation will help everyone.

And while I’m offending people’s sensibilities I may as well mention my belief in the importance of continence. I’m not referring to the obvious advantages of curing oneself of adult bed-wetting. After all, there are effective plastic sheets on the market these days, or so I’ve been told. Certainly, I’d have to be insane to suggest cutting down on sexual activity, it being the way we tend to judge how wonderful we are. So I won’t go there at all. This sensitive area of the ancient science of the sages is esoteric and I therefore will not explain it. It’s secret. My lips are sealed. I’m only lightly, gingerly alluding to the possibility of a certain conservation of energy. I will write all about it openly in my upcoming book, ‘Unprotected Sects.’

When I returned to Canada in 1998, I was quite amazed to find out how many people had attained miraculous powers rather, well, miraculously. It still seems to me that every second person has the ability to heal merely with a touch. Many don’t even need to touch you. They can do it over the phone or by skype. There are a plethora of channelers, people able to communicate with angels, crystal bowl healers, psychics, clairvoyants, palm readers, garden variety fortune tellers, intuitives, aura readers, tea leaf readers... It seems that in the new-age everybody’s sister, mother and brother are powerful healers and teachers. And that’s just great. I would only mention that one might be well advised to keep ones attention on the goal.

Many years ago Alan Abel, who was with the Globe and Mail in Toronto at the time, came to visit the Hermitage in Kullu, India, where I lived for twenty-five years. During his interview with My teachet, Alan asked if Swamiji had any extra-normal powers. “Yes, I do,” Swamiji said. “I have the power to love everyone unconditionally.” I’m quite convinced that greatest of all powers can be only attained by the direct experience of the oneness of all life, the one life permeating all the forms, pure, free and forever.

There’s nothing to compel one to meditate or even make enquiries about it. However, if you’ve gotten this far, if you are impelled, you may as well read the rest of what I want to say. When one looks up at the night sky and sees all those stars, one has to wonder where it ends. And, for that matter, one has to wonder where it all begins. Intelligent people through the ages have continuously wondered where they came from and where they end up after the body dissolves. 

I haven’t an answer to those questions, not from firsthand experience or knowledge. But, I do know that asking oneself those questions is certainly the beginning of a great journey. And my direct personal experience has left me quite convinced that there is more to life than what meets the eye. There’s more to me than this body and mind. This is a fact that I know through personal, direct experience. It has also become extremely obvious to me that, in spite of the many differences, we all breathe the same air, that our hearts all pulsate with the same love of life, and that we all desire freedom.

Namaste.

-

freedom’s star.

 freedom’s star.

only along these hallowed hallways,

of forms imagined in absence of candle-light,

can we recall with all relief the brilliance of our own,

and be ever after the benefactors of more bounty,

than the fiercest of pirates could’ve ever known,

to roam with freedom’s star at our backs,

amidst a celebration of fear’s flight.

only within these structures narrow and changing,

along illusions foyer of time and space,

might we watch ourselves loosen the confines to reflect,

on being ever the recipients of more richness,

than the shrewdest entrepreneurs could’ve hoped to collect,

to drift purposefully with love’s driving rain upon our chests,

towards an awesome and humbling grace.

only along these stairways of creativity,

designed for joy and sorrow’s conclusion,

can the very lords and ladies of the estate enjoy the climb,

to look out upon garden and stream,

a panoramic vision to the corners of a kingdom,

more grande and expansive,

than the greatest conquerors’ unfulfilled dreams.

only within these channels of absolute synapsis,

might we investigate our affection for the other,

to understand the all-permeating oneness,

and gaze forever undisturbed with freedom’s star,

and love’s rain as our comrade’s against delusion,

to walk forever undisturbed with freedom’s sparkling star,

and love’s driving rain for company in our eternal seclusion.

the long shot.

the waiting seemed to go on so long that when it finally happened it happened quick. and then i was back in my truck, vaccinated, reflecting upon the whole last year and a half. and i asked myself: ‘what the heck was that?’

hardly an hour earlier i’d been alone in my room, as so often has been the case, when the phone rang. and then i was in such a hurry that it came down to whether to put pants on or be on time for the appointment. of course i did the prudent thing, still somehow made it on time, got the jab and left feeling gently grateful. and the folks at the wakefield community centre clinic really could not have been nicer. 

one hears so many things: ideas, theories, fears. and i try to respect folks’ differing opinions, in this case specifically regarding vaccinations. these days, however, i just find it all a little irritating. i mean, i get it. they were developed too quickly and we’re being used as human guinea-pigs. hell, i don’t like hearing about guinea-pigs being used as guinea-pigs. however, sitting in my old truck, i felt a palpable sense of relief. it’s not as if i trust the largess of the pharmaceutical companies. i can be as cynical as the next person. only, i find it equally hard to ignore the fact that, had it not been for pharmaceuticals i woulda died approximately five times in my life, which is a lot of dying. and so, anyway, if i’m shedding, may i be shedding good vibrations. if i’m magnetic, may it be a magnetic personality.

the past year and a half, sure, it’s been lonely for so many. i’ve personally been alone over many long stretches of my life. and, at some point loneliness exploded within my head and heart and became something else, something ok. i don’t know what to call it. but, seeing a neighbour walking by can bring me a simple joy. and, lord, if there’s a wave involved it’s as warm as a warm embrace. a dog’s barking is a friend’s hello, a bird’s chirping is a beloved’s song. meanwhile, while sitting there waiting for my arm to ache, it occurred to me that a hilariously ironic scenario woulda been for me to catch the india variant. it could still happen, i suppose, although it aint likely, not now, not by a long shot. in fact, now it seems as though a whole new world’s opening up for me, for us.  

so as i turned the key i asked myself: ‘nate, where do you go from here? and just like that i heard myself say: ‘home.’ 

a fridgid love.

 i wonder if it’s strange, if i should be concerned. purchasing a new refrigerator is not supposed to be a high-point in ones life. but, i’ve had it for a couple of months and i’m still looking over at it constantly. and i’m filled with strong feelings of affection and even adoration that are mildly unsettling. this honeymoon phase has lasted longer than, well, my actual honeymoon phase.

there’s just something about this fridge: lovely french-doors with freezer on the bottom. there’s simply something alluring about the slightly bowed front and how quietly it runs. its long, slender handles on each door follow the lines sensuously. and it fit so perfectly into my home. i’m long past any concern over gender. it’s not as if i’m going to be rubbing up against him, her or it in any lascivious or overtly sexual manner, as tempted as i may sometimes be. however, when i open the fridge up a light shines over me like an embrace. its warmth reflects off of clear shelves that casts a loving glow all over as it offers up all its delights, allowing me to choose whatever i desire. you love who you love.

i’m not self-conscious when undressing in front of it, which i like to do sometimes. and i don’t feel judged. i’m not concerned when i make those inadvertent body-noises. it’s reliable, doesn’t argue. it’s ok that it doesn’t laugh at all my jokes: i’m used to that. at least it listens. now the first thing i do when i walk in the door is call out: "honey i’m home." and he, she or it is always waiting contentedly beside the stove, purring softly, welcomingly. 

this may just be my best ever relationship. this may actually be the love of my life. of course, this may simply be a helluva long pandemic. 

kk

 a eulogy of sorts for an old friend who passed away following a heart operation.

krishna kaant and i had to hunt down a rabid dog that had been terrorizing the area. he was as always ready to do whatever was necessary. the mad dog had attacked a few people, one being amy berlin, and so with words of encouragement he pulled me into a maruti van taxi and off we went. he had a sword and i grabbed some rope. 

we soon spotted the creature weaving along the street in gandhi nagar. the driver pulled up right beside it, i slid open the door. but before we could do anything the dog lunged at us. i tried to slide the door back only its big black head was already inside, snarling, snapping, teeth bared as i kept trying to shut the door. the crazed creature was inches from both of us drooling, snapping, until finally i got the door closed. then kk very mildly asked me to get off his lap. 

i realized by then, of course, that thinking i could do anything useful with rope was nonsensical. we would almost certainly be relying upon kk’s sword. the next time we encountered the rabid dog night had descended and we were in dhalpur. we asked the driver to park some distance away and we got out. kk brandished his sword. i picked up a large rock as we approached. but, again the dog made the first move. he, she or it lunged, only not at kk, not at me: at the van. it attacked the fender as though the fender was a living thing. it happened so quickly and so violently that we missed our chance. the dog ran off down toward sarvari bazaar and our driver refused to carry on. he handed us his keys and walked away. 

we soon saw a dark shape skulking from side to side on the road. my confidence had pretty much gone along with the taxi-driver. however, up ahead we also could see two police patrolling the quiet area. so we both hollered loudly "pagal kutta! pagal kutta! pagal kutta!" almost immediately the two cops separated from each other as they got closer to the dog. they both twirled their batons and, just as the dog lunged, amazingly, one threw his stick with such perfect aim and force that it hit the creature right between its wild eyes. it collapsed in a heap. then both men picked up rocks and killed it. 

afterward, i valiantly volunteered to drive back to the ashram to talk with doctor gaurav, leaving kk to guard the carcass of the dog. there was a question about whether we needed to test the creature for rabies. it seemed spectacularly unnecessary to us, but we thought to ask. kk sat on a boulder to meditate as i drove off. however, apparently not very long after, in the still darkness of the night, as he meditated, kk heard a gurgling sound and a low growl. and as he opened his eyes he saw the dog was up, slobbering, bleeding, and moving slowly toward him.  

that kk had to finish off ‘the problem’ all on his own was not a fact i learned that night or even soon after. he hadn’t wanted me to feel too badly for having left him there, a clear indication of who krishna kaant was. and you know, at one point many years ago he was told by the doctors that he should really consider living closer to sea-level. and i asked if that was something he would consider. he said it was not, so of course i asked why. he looked at me quizzically and simply answered: "because this is my home." 

chasing squirrels.

 this poem was precipitated by the realization that i’ve spent the entire pandemic chasing squirrels off my bird-feeders. that’s fundamentally what i’ve been doing for the past year. so while i would obviously not consider myself an essential worker, i actually might well be considered as such by certain local sparrows, blue-jays and perhaps a wood-pecker or two. and i find that a fascinating thought to consider.

consider then if all that’s assumed so clever,

must ever be or are we simply chasing squirrels, 

might life’s more confounding questions be buried forever,

while some ancient truth so slowly unfurls, 

like some foreign flag as red as early morning eyes,

takes us for fools seeking validation that’s as annoying,

as lovers’ stubborn hold upon scrabbling lies,

an illusory fact denying the inevitability of deploying,

somewhere directly overseas to furthest afield, 

sealed or still buried in this land of magical thinking,

the inevitability that a sudden evacuation frees,

up a portion of ourselves that’s hereto-for been sinking, 

into our heads slowly but surely to put us on our knees,

a loquacious ludicrous and lucid dream of a better place, 

which may as well be admitting our knowings’ gone south,

at least putting our best foot forward inevitably to face,

facts how they’ve been unquestionably fine in our mouths,

so long as comfortable constructs of ideas we’ve tread,

led to a default setting the exhumation of remains,

again and yet again discarding rumours quietly spread, 

like the pitter patter of litter feet hushed up refrains,

of crazed and wretched rodents running off ahead,

to join a collective us that alone we together have never,

known or perhaps it’s ok not to know whilst life unfurls,

a warning whether wise to consider us clever,

or simply we be chasing squirrels.

bright eyes smile.

 "be happy for this moment. because this moment is your life." omar khayyam.

parking is ridiculously easy while snow descends upon the world. an ambulance speeds by, lights flashing, no need for a siren. the city is strangely quiet, peaceful. it’s a numbers game now with names attached, like grampa sam 21,293 or ezra 21,294. either one might’ve been me of course, and was in a way, as the question of a future hangs in the air like a cloud. 

some say there’ll be a micro-chip in the vaccine to track our comings and goings. only, nobody’s tracked my coming or goings in years and i kinda like the idea. of course, if one has a mind to rob a convenience store it could be a terrible inconvenience. so that must be said, or it might just be me, probably is. and has there been sufficient animal testing? i don’t mind waiting in line, although the future hangs in the balance. so even if as many people die each winter of influenza, the logic escapes me, as i hide a toothless grin behind my mask, which is me for sure. 

i doubt that the virus was unleashed by the world’s ruling elite to collapse the economy. as well, i don’t believe it’s fake news, even though my buddy says the ‘cbc’ should be renamed ‘the covid broadcasting corporation.’ and hell no, i don’t believe the u.s. election was stolen. so maybe it is me, almost for sure. the bakery ladies might think so. their bright eyes smile, appreciating our shared existence, albeit briefly. their shelves are full, deliciously aromatic, and i buy a few extra scones, hand a guy outside a couple with change. 

so, yeah, maybe there’s no future. only for sure there’s now. and i can’t help but notice the beauty of it, this moment, which must be you, probably is, almost for sure. 

the camping toilet.

the question many van-dwellers, van-lifers, even weekenders often ask is: ‘toilet or no toilet?’ i don’t wanna come off as sounding anal about it, but i feel it’s a no-brainer. a toilet is a must.

long before this blasted pandemic made leaving our homes as difficult as if our feet were dipped in cement, i appreciated the independence of my van’s porta-potti. why should i beg a cafe owner if i might use his or her precious bathroom? why should i constantly be furtively looking for clumps of bushes to do my business? the answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind. 

initially i trundled off to ‘canadian tire’ and proudly purchased a ‘dometic portable deluxe camping toilet.’ i felt like a king while sitting on its full-sized throne above the attached holding tank. but i found cleaning the thing complicated and frankly a bit unsavoury. so, i cleaned it up real good, slathered it with lysol and threw it into my back shed. 

to simplify matters, i bought a bucket and applied a gamma-seal, double-bagged it and added a dash of saw-dust. it was simple, easy peasy, only i sure didn’t feel like a king and it kinda left marks on my, well, it’s in the shed. 

in an attempt to compromise i next purchased one of those collapsable crappers off amazon. the photos looked terribly inviting. unfortunately, the reality is they’re more suited to a recently potti-trained infant than a grown-ass man. it felt as though it actually might collapse at the most inopportune moment. and that’s an unthinkable image that now i can not un-think. it’s in the shed.

i tried ‘the luggable loo,’ from ‘home hardware,’ only when sitting on the thing you’d need a shoe-horn to get your male appendage in to its proper placement, in case it wanted to also avail itself of the facilities. that went into the shed quicker than any of them. 

i even went so far as to purchase a lovely high-end commode. that woulda been a keeper if it didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. there simply was no discreet place for it in my van. sadly, i had to find a place for it with all the others. i’m using a ‘reliance portable toilet’ from ‘canadian tire’ these days. it’s adequate and easy to hide away. 

all that to say, if anyone out there needs a camping toilet, i’m your guy.

dream-scape.

the sound of crackling snow seemed to come from up ahead so i stopped to listen. but he nudged me from behind, felling me from the sheer shock and awe of it: bumped by a big beautiful buck. and as i sat in the snow he nudged me again, on my forehead. 

grabbing his large antlers felt like the thing to do as he kept his majestic head so low. and, with a mighty if effortless movement, he swung me up to my feet and flipped me onto his back. so i rode the buck along a whitened wonderland while, not overthinking the situation, allowing myself to appreciate the moment: significantly overwhelmed, spectacularly happy, as a diaphanous snow-fall enhanced the scene. 

it was a dream, of course it was. but does it matter? i often wonder whether my stream of consciousness is real or imagined in the nights. and the ancient sages have said that this all is a dream to someone with an awakened mind, a magical illusory show.

it occurred to me, however, with only a modicum of apprehension, that i might never find my way back from the dream. so, as we approached a lake i’d never seen before, i tugged his antlers, coaxed him around. only, he did a kind of animistic pirouette instead. i tugged again and again he went all ‘round with a primal grace. finally, laughing uproariously and fabulously dizzy, i got him headed in the right direction.

at the truck he waited while i changed my socks. and as snow took my place upon his back he nudged me one last time before fading into white.

‘i dreamed i was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then i awoke. now i wonder: am i a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am i a butterfly dreaming that i am a man.’ zhuangzi.