nothings

Kalki is still asleep.
The Australians are descending. Bhakta and Bhakti, they are still alive? How old will we get before we do some serious dying. We have only lost two of the Melbourne crew, Jayaprada and Ananyabuk. Both cancer and both suspected mobile phones.

The holidays are nearing the end. Oh dear oh dear. 'Friends' did nothing but shodd my brain with aimless adle. I should have known better than to try and get a hit from a screen with a doubtful script and paper thin characters. But they stick like the stench of the drain, up my nostrils and in my brain.
SO my script isn't too crash hot either, so be it.

Hari Bhakti leaves as fast as she came. A record four days. I envy her jet set ways.

The neighbour doesn't know how to shut her screaming kid up in the middle of the night. It was like some kind of communal torture. That kid wanted something if only sanity and mum just would not cough up. I lay, kidding myself that I could keep sleeping while studiously avoiding what I figure the gods had intended. Get up and out, breath that fresh 4 am morning air. Feel the grit and grind of existence, embrace it, enjoy it.........at 4 am. Then 9 pm starts to look really good.

Class plans for a year to be made. I figure if I just stop asking myself to be able to do this and just kid myself into winging it I will be a lot happier. I don't think I have realised fully, how many wingers there are in life.

Spousel displeasure as the whine of discontent precedes full blown displeasure at the prospect of naught but surrender to ideas. The idea of a better place where air fares don't cost $1500 including tax and passports never expire.
My licence will expire soon. Four thousand rupees to fix that one. Only a months wage in India. Yeehaa. I would drive in India but it takes more than I have. The psychic skill to intuit what the other non law abiding driver will do while heading straight for you on your side of the road.

My class room has been attacked by rodents and spiders have enjoyed the computers generous contours.
And the ever present squeek of the fly wire to let me know if some one is coming. The jingle of the ankle bells and Vrnda announces herself with furby intow. All of 14 years old. She stands and plucks one of my four grey hairs to prove to me that I am going grey.
Vrnda suffered massive hair loss due to the measles or some such thing and now sports many short lengths popping out of what remains of her hair. At least it is growing back. The thrill that is India.

'Friends'.... watched

Ok, I'll admit it. I have been spacing out to videos of Friends. I have never watched the show before in my life bar half an episode in Kolkata. Kolkata can drive you to desperation. And I know it is not the activity of the self aware or self seeker. hahahahhhaha, nooooo it is not. I don't think it even has plot. I wonder if any one has done a thesis on it. Taking the tiny moments in life, the insignificant and utterly meaningless ones and making a telly show about them that has a god damned religious cult following. There are people who were born after the show closed watching this stuff as if it sustained them. [Vrindy?] Thank you for the loan. [and the finger prints are not mine]

Sucih is horrified at the malais that has spread through the house as Vishaka and I disappear to corners of the building and merge with the luminous screens of our laptops. Vishaka has declared she hates school now. She must think life is as easy as it looks on the telly show. They did one show on income inequity. I mentioned this show and noted to her that the haves in the show went to uni. Ho hum. Could that be a telly lie, in this case I am afraid not. Unless you are a goer chances are no school relates to little brown envelopes with change in them. They round down in the low income arena.

Sucih reckons Johnny Howard, the pig prime minister of Australia, will cause some major terrorist dilema or other such attraction to reel in the voters. I reckon Johnny is over the job and can see the very nasty writing on the wall. His government has brought disaster to the country as all liberal governments do. They feed off the hard work in policy developement of the labour party while watching it slowly disintergrate in the reign of liberal neglect. Just a guess, I really know nothing of it. just want some one to blame for the $8 couliflower on sale in Coles.

But who cares any way, I am in Bengal and my only dilema is how to conquer my desire to never leave the house and the lack of funds that presently prevent me from visiting my opa in Germany. He is in his 90s so it might be nice to see him before his end though he seems to be a bit of a stayer. He ended up in an old peoples home after the death of his much younger wife and Lo and behold he has found a new female friend. Girl friend is too seedy a term for that age group though I don't doubt that they will be trying to enjoy as much as they can inspite of the age. So off to Italy for a holiday with friends and relatives while I stay in Bengal waiting for the highlights. I like to live vicariously. Actually my whole life is a vicarious one.

Well how I feel inside. Kinda wierd as I am living the life of the letter. all my close friends, [well as close as you can get with this nature and at this age] and relatives [I can pretty strictly say no close relos either] all live in other countries. So I type a lot. I am becoming less dependant on the hand flay to express myself though i did enjoy unmeditated witty expressions that dropped from my mouth. Either that or I had generous friends who occasionally laughed at things I said. It is not quite the same on line.

Oh, and [redacted] the blog. How can i make my life seem so insanely fantastic. Dunno, I'm a bloody celibate in West Bengal. It's just not going to happen. It is all transience and transcendance, sweet breeses and devotional melodies. Ambient air and the yodelling of the pilgrims. No shortage of atmosphere but it isn't the world I was born into. So there is inevitable conflict due to the habitual nature of a recumbant, slightly stagnant aging middle aged mother of four, in the Hare Krsna's.

My cousin reckons my grand father no longer cares that I am a hare and is just stocked that I am still married with four kids to the one guy. Well that is a bloody miracle but quite frankly, I only did it to spite my mother. She wanted me to live true to myslef and do as she did. Now this is not a sordid sight so I will spare you the details. Oh, she had the kids but no sooner did they start breathing then she would start devising means of disposal. In a spasm of honesty she once admitted she would have been best situated as a concubine. I think her mother failed to give her any kind of moral training. Her mother was from Berlin and my mother was born during the war. Any guesses what that could mean? I think the term Bohemian comes from that district and I will grant you that is a rather tame expression for the actual life that these people lived. But if you like your morals to blow like the wind then Berlin is the place for you.

Back to the placebo life while waiting for death. Friends........ahhg i know it's lame but some credit for the honesty?
I do good things too, like wash, let me qualify that, I wash my body. I look at the sky, I even sat in the sun yesterday. Hey I was brought up to be a bum coming from a long line of bourgeois bums. Actually the bourgeois worked bloody hard to fake not working but the offspring got the wrong impression. That being me, and thought life was one big sailing ship and if i wanted to do nothing all day then i bloody well could if I wanted to. Wrong message for a kid to get. So I remain to this day, a culturally conflicted adult. Torn between aught to and want to. I guess it's nothing new.

Do I need a photo?

money blurrs

Told you the edges were blurred here.



And Radha waiting for it to rain money, as usual.

Pig Headed Aliens

Well ‘[edacted]’ has shown me something. He is either an excellent fake or this guy is some kind of cyber superman. But like most supermen he hasn't a clue what to do with a woman. Makes me kinda smile and think, thank God. It would be otherwise too much to bare.

Radha left for Vrndavan with little fanfare from me. I suspect I have allowed her to become a predictably self obsessed adolescent. It seems being able to shop is a primary concern for young women of her caliber. Without it, what would be the point of getting out of bed? I know this from personal experience. Vrndavan with out some binging at Loy bazaar. Poor duffa, to think I have other priorities, like paying the power bill, sweet heart. Ahh well that little product of my loins will learn her lesson later than sooner I expect. if at all. What a bunch of slugs we are. Don’t get me wrong I like my kids but if they start resembling every other corrupted human on this planet then I take issue as I was hoping for more. Of course you may say what about me. Well I would say my personal path has been transferred to the off spring and I am now hoping one of them will be a better person. A better person? I guess we have lost touch with what a person is in the realm.

Vrnda wondered about the complex at one in the morning, seeking out her friends that were due to depart in the wee hours. She found non and fell asleep on the door step of Tara’s place. I’m not sure where we got Vrnda from but she is not your regular kid.

Shaka was on the roof last night and saw a …….yes……a ……UFO
Yes they are out there and if they are not some one out there has some seriously cool personal transport happening. I want one. Private silent and very very fast. Gees you have no idea how much I want one.

Dreamt so lucidly this morning I thought I might have been on an astral jaunt. I experienced colours and scenes that are a little wanting in this region. Everything is blurred here. As indistinct as an Indian head nod. It’s no wonder they had eons of spiritualism as their core feature. It is all you can do to figure out what one person is actually saying to another. SO you turn to God and hope he can reveal the **** is going on. The guy at the market has not the slightest inclination of letting you in on how it works. The only ones that may be inclined to help are the ones that are “colonized”. God I love a colonized Indian. We can meet half way. I too am colonized but only fractionally. They got to me in maturity. Can’t teach a old dog new tricks.

The old man is sick, consolation being squalor is his constant companion. Hahah
Can’t help sounding like a nasty piece of work. I just am.

Oh to be happily putrefying in my happiness and forever distracted from my ultimate demise.
One of my favourite stories is the guy in the well with the water below, a tiger waiting outside and a drop of honey coming his way. It’s all he can do to get that honey. Like a droplet of dew ready to fall from the leaf in the early morning. We too are waiting and in the mean time each day we find another inconsequential reason to get out of bed. Don’t tell me yours has consequence because it simply doesn’t if you hold it up against death.

Every time I read or watch anything contemporary they most often refer to sex as if it were the panacea of existence. I just think they might be deluding themselves and some are simply keeping the lie alive for want of company. Get to a crucial point in life……stop…..forget it and then happily fornicate as if some how it were a pill that would fix it all. Since when did that start happening? I mean some people are keeping relationships alive with sex alone…..[edacted] ?

I’m all for freedom but with some kind of purpose. If you wanted to bonk every time it got too hard to think then you might as well be a pigeon or even a pig, I hear they orgasm for a whole half hour. There you go guys [both genders covered in that term] go for it. Sounds like the right kind of birth for you. Life’s problems will be solved. Of course you will tend to desire a sordid diet of stool and assorted rotting odds and ends but I expect most of you are feasting on the rotting carcasses of, lets say, Pigs. Poor pigs, life cut short by those who do not know your true worth; the power to enjoy beyond any human beings dreams. Bring it on. Hey Michael Jackson, make your order. I’m sure pig law will refuse you nothing.

I better go now, even I feel it is a tad off.

Vishaka informs of pending death or should we say departure?

Vishaka in 2006 Gaura purnima play about Lord Rama. She was the golden demon deer. Or was he infact a devotee. Never can figure it out.
One of the devotees is in the process of leaving his body across the way. The kids have been having kirtans every night. They say he will leave tonight. I don't get into stuff like that much. Gives me the heeby jeebies.
I wish him well and who knows what is going on in the air in the Holy Dhama. He was a steady book distributer. So the heaens will open up and gather him up, deliver in whole to the one that loves him. I should be so lucky. It is not my time but when it is I am hope i am in a good mood.

the moon rose early and they sing like muslims around here

So I speak to myself here.
The latin is because I like it. It is the parent of English and so maybe it has a story to to tell. I found this line in an online collection of latin expressions and though I may have it slightly out of context I liked what I thought it meant.
The picture belongs to some one else and i just wonder if it is real. Staggering if it is.

Up again all night and I hear the voices of those, nuts enough to be up at this time of day. My motivation to stand in a temple professing or displaying devotion is at an all time low. I don't lament it but it will become harder to negotiate in time in this community. Complete adherence is the order of the day or pay the price. I expect every political arrangement has its price.
Spiritual, well that is an entirely different thing.
It is 4 am and I wonder who's family could be so damned noisy.
Kalki goes to play practice with his father at 6.30 am. You have got to love some peoples idea of practical. He wants to be a monkey. What I know of human nature, communities and children is enough for me to worry that he doesn't get his little heart broken. Well at least his ego badly handled. When adults deal with children the children are often merely connections to other adults. If some one likes your paretns they may be kind. If you have no family connections, chances are you are fair and square at the bottom of the totem pole if on it at all. As a kid i did not take this issue seriously as i did believe in our new world but it appears the people of my age group suffer from this abheration as much as the last generation. Maybe it is just religion that does it to people. As a matter of fact I may be on to something there. Love God and spite those who look like they may not Love him as much as you do. Gee I reckon the muslims excell at that but then the Christians are good too. The Christians are more hung up about the more superficial aspects of devotion. It isn't really about God but what God can do for the Nation. Yes that's it. Christians at heart are Nationalists. Blugh
How about Hindu's what are they. I think they are the ultimate deal makers. Mafia men. Forever pledging gifts in the hope of a trade off.
Vaisnava's, well they were once prone to independance but now that some of them have been cooped up in an order of sorts they have become a little ........ for want of a better word, lacking. Where is the inspiration if your counting the slabs of marble as I think Bhatissidanta suggested. They are best going it alone if you look at the history of the greatest. It seems the really commited ones were always subject to heavy criticism and even isolation in their time. It makes me wonder if being part of the order is always to be desired. The order requires such a heavy toll.

I hate men waking up and coughing and rasping as if their gizzards were trying to escape. Man take a worm tablet. Who can that be? Change your diet, do something. You sound like you are choking on your own mucous and you do it every morning.
Another ambient Indian experiance.

I hear the Samadhi conch blow. Maybe i could go there instaed. Much less public.

Bitter pills drop from my mouth and still I can not convince my self that anything is wrong with it. I must have been accustomed to too much harshness as a child. If my mother heard a child cry she would mock and tease it in an attempt to reveal its own silly preoccupation with its petty needs. Hey , don't come to me for hugs, they'll do you no good at all in the long run and I suppose in the long run she was right. Thank you Mother. In all the apparent dishonesty you were in fact the most honest. Humans suck and best become acquainted with the fact as early as possible. Spares you a lot of time and certainly prevents dissapointment.
But what to do with these revelations? Why put them to work in the name of revelation. Well in the hope that I will chance upon at least one or two more before I die.
The revelation that non of it is true. That this body is infact a vehicle in which I stay for some time, a transition. Spend time tinkering too long and I merely hold up the journey. And real estate, the ultimate drug. A place to hide, an account to control, some cudos to be had. Thank you God. You simply refuse to let me be part of it and who knows, I may experience genuine gratitude consistantly one day. I do admit I am addicted to beauty but Nature will suffice.

The Man

Radha , don't frett

Ok, slightly sedated due to pain so type errors are to be expected.
Was thinking tonight though lately have enjoyed forgetting the thoughts.
Dilema at trying to bridge the secular with religious. Out of my league and so I concede that I aught to thrust myself into to given commiment and hope for the best. Can't help my addiction to secular language and will probably not drop that for a while but I will try harder to reconcile conflicts.
Porr Radha is flipping out with my bitter rhetoric. It makes her cry. She neednt take this drama queen too seriously. i have after all been locked up in my room for weeks now though I do venture out now that the maid is here. I will never be able to go back to the life of a house wife unless of course i do not have to work full time. How do women in the work force not get seriously cheesed off. Work all day and then clean up after selfish lazy butts. Not to say my kids don't pull their weight but it's the little things that get you down. The communal things that they just don't feel obliged to do.

How is it a person feels the need to read 4 books at one time. I almost feel shocked that I am monogomous.
Reading Bhaktivinoda Thakuras autobiography today. Wikipedia is good for something. I like him a lot as he went through the whole western paradigm before embracing vaisnavism so i figure he is qualified. I figure it takes passing through the two worlds to really be quailifed to share with a peron bought up by the secularists. It is a tragically hard nut to crack and takes mountains of empathy. He had that empathy and compassion. He embraced us when no others did. He was in the association of Rabindranath Thakura. Anyway I like that he knew all the western philosophers of the time as to me it legitimises his choice. So many people are so quick to call this a mindless and sentimental cult when in fact there is much profundity within it but it is not easy to extract or I should say waiting for the revelations can be disconcerting at times. It seems our primary occupation is becoming qualified to recieve the bequest of revelation.

It is much cooler now and almost feels like an Australian summer. Livable. I can cope with the heat here if i keep the right attitude. I tell myself sweating perpetually is good for the system.

I ranted to vitriolic venom today about my pain regarding the establishment. it is almost like resnting a parent. The themes always repeat themselves.

Losing my mind to meandering though I could crap on till the cows come home though they never get let of their pens around here. Imagine neve letting a cow graze, too cruel.

Tomorrow I may venture out. I have some type of agrophobia. Always the potential mantal case.
I wonder when Bhaktivinoda Thakura looked from his veranda if it was us he saw that night.
silence.

Vrnda and Radha



Kalki at school.

Vishaka has been cleaning all day. She brought food to her disinterested mother as well. They asked me to come over but I can't bring myself to come to a place that needs perpetual cleaning. I figure if i have to fight to get help then I quit and they can do it all. As it happens Vrnda is sick and so is Radha. The other two people are in gender disabled bodies.

The water is taking forever to go down but I can't say I mind laying low. That is metaphoric and possibly very accurate.

It's rainig so the heat has finally given way to some breez.
Back to class plans and a real life instead of virtual.
Anything for some inspiration.

it's cool and raining. There is a God.

egress of spirit

That just keeps popping up on the screen every time I try and make a new post so I thought I would leave it for now.
Someone was a bit mean to shaka on her blog. I thought it was age related but it happens that we are not immunised from nastiness just because we get older. It actually gets worse, as more, is often at stake, but in the end nothing at all really is.

Speaking today about priviledged wealthy and for a moment felt a tad belittled by being so low on the pecking order. It took until this evening to reconcile myself with some semblence of worth beyond material facility and wealth. It was always my angle but it can get more challenging as we get older as some of the validating features of life disperse, such as youth maybe intelligence. I don't know, maybe I don't like to admit how sold out I was to buying the veneer sphere of reality. I like that, "vaneer sphere" good name for a coffe shop. Is that all I can come up with, a coffe shop?
I had hopes of a cultural centre not unlike the Universal Workshop in Melbourne, Fitzroy in the seventies but it seems no one else cares for such things so it wasn't to be.
Ironically enough it seems child care is all the rage when every one has ceased to breed. Maybe it is some kind of encouragement plan. Maybe we should all admit that life in an industrialised society is starting to resemble a kabutz.

I used to spend a lot of time to myself as a kid listening to music and reading. As I get older i now know why. I joined a religious group that has kept me away from the Whitlam sacking world and I find that whenever I do stick my head out I must quickly retrieve it before it gets chopped off. Prabhupada said chant and be happy, I reckon it aught to be chant and keep your head down. Not much of an activist eh? Arjuna go for it, it's all yours. I'll stay home and knit the socks and when it's over grieve the casualties.

Paradox, conclusion, all the while attempting to skirt delusion.

Well it is a flip flop temporary condition this state of affairs. The advice is never embrace happiness or distress too violently as it is merely an allocated bequest. So what remains in the middle is equipiosed sadnesss or madness as some might have you think. Must never tell too much.
Rubs close to a bone or makes opaque what aught to be clear, but never is because the chemicals are never quite right. Sucih said you would spend the whole of your life managing the PH in a pool and so it is. Keep that pool clear of the muck that might spoil the view to the bottom.

Hurt is always part of trust and trust is always part of foolishness.
It might pay to invest in the friends I gave birth to. Maybe that is the safe haven for committed breeders, one among them becomes a friend.
Is that it? Do we find our truths in allocated stories given us by the Gods?
Is mine in family?
I remembered my mother always hankering for some one to come and love her. A Knight was always on the horizen. I wonder if she still does hanker. I am blessed by her never to have fallen into that sorry plight. So many vulnerable women do. Maybe that's why she wanted me to believe I was loved even if it wasn't entirely true. I have been spared the relentless need to fill an unfillable whole.
It all seemed so silly to me as a kid. I knew then the guy was always a bastard and he would never really come. You had to crack a deal with life if you wanted to live in peace. A deal of sacrifice. No pedestals and no glory. How I chanced upon it is a miracle and a blessing. Oh God I sound like a Christian. They generally have a simplistic approach that irritates me. All happy, as if they were selling the product of life. It's like a bloody Coke add minus the extracarricular activities and then maybe some after all. They do, after all adhere to hard core consumption without remorse.

Action and reaction is quick around here. The relentless urge to purify me of my hipocrosy and mean hearted attitude. Well thank you. I need a knock on the head but it is always so bloody embarrasing knowing just how unaware I am.

Radha Ballabha

I joined under these deities, Sri Sri Radha Ballabah.

They are like a first love really. Nothing comes near them and I think it has something to do with the circumstances surounding our initial acquaintance. Unfortunately they are in Melbourne which is a social waste land but maybe the tide will change for Australia one day.

the idiot

Austerity.

Tried to read "The Idiot" by Dostoyevsky last night. It's amazing what modern technology can give you access to when all sight of book store is gone.

But about novels, do they suck up your very life or what? The Idiot is, has and unfortunetly will; I got to sleep as the sun came up and only for fear of my nervous system objecting to my evenings recreation. What am I thinking? Well a lot really. All things old world Russian intrigue me. Communist Russia is Russia minus the colour but pre is fascinating. My name is Natascha after all and I was fed a life time of stories regarding a Russian father, [lies I might add] but that adds even more intrigue. What possessd a woman to tell her child that her father was a Russian spy for the KGB. My mother gave him a name and a birthdate and even the day on which he died. Serge Michealovich. Pretty good hey?

I read last night, in The Idiot I might add, that a liar in his lies will reveal the truth. It struck me an accurate observation as my mother would transplant stories and switch them around to suit her needs or whims. Facinating really. You eventually get the jist after a while; a nutter of a mother. A brave one but I think insanity may bequeath its own courage. In all her stories and from this vantage point I can vaguely fit the pieces together and some semblance of truth is revealed. The father in the end was a banal German by the very common name of Helmut Haberer. Well at least he has a name, some unfortunates have "name unknown" but in this case I think it was a mercenary affair. That's the thing with these old world novels, they reveal the very real nature of the human condition, dogs fighting over a bone. Mothers naming fathers just to get the checks in the mail. Ah sweet poetry.

Back to The Idiot, gripping tale really and why. Well why do books grip us? Is it the gossip munger in me? Is the hope that maybe this author has the answer, a pivotal piece of information that will hinge on yet more information until my brain is damn well stuffed with information. Possibly. It is always just a window, another window into the life or mind. A snippet here and a snippet there and in the end all that time given over so freely to a book for what? I guess the poetry of the book is lost in translation as I don't even get the benefit of reading good english prose. I am hooked non the less in this instance due to my curiosity for the cultural aspects of social conduct within Russian depictions. Granted it may be exagerated but it seems they are a much more lively bunch than the english.
And who really cares anyway.

I gave up on the essay. It was causing me angst; [I am allergic to rigour] don't need more of that. Whatever it was there was a final resolution be it good or bad that I will leave the distance learning to a time when the kids are out and I am not working full time. A full time job in Bengal is a big thing given the heat what to speak of all the other likely distractions or disabilities that might arise from so vastly challenging a place. And yes folks, we thought it had cooled. hah We now drip in sweat again.

And so I post the picture of the alter and wonder what will come next in this constant evolution of perceptions. Who am I and what is my place? Well it certainly isn't in an institution but ironically I am rather deeply affiliated. Did a penny just drop? Ok Ok, what to do but rest assured I trust little if any of them. We get old, we get rancid and the dreams turn into nightmares. The institution into a burden and hope is always misplaced. And still in my infinite stupidity I still try and define myself amongst it all for fear that without any of these barometers I do not exist at all. What could have happened to me to have driven me to this state of continual unknowing or should I call it lack of confidence? Who knows but a saddhana of sorts is in call and there can't be harm in that.
From here I wait for the next chapter as I can feel a mighty big page turning, it's just taking a while.

The men in my life descend and I go.......in some hope. The little one follows the big one around hoping he has some fun in store but always thwarted while all the while shaka cleans. Radha preens and Vrnda, well Vrnda just floats about wishing, I expect that she was in a family with more indulgent parents. Kalki's hand is prickly from too much contact with the mouse pad. What an awful parent.

smirch

Have you ever wondered why is it that we read from left to right or from top to bottom. If computers had been the first device we had written on it might have been very different. Or if we had been Chinese.

Shaka and the Man are back. Enough time in Kolkata and they knew what they had to come back and face. A smelly dog in the foyer and a floor that never lookes quite clean enough. I expect it is because we are home all day.

Kalki got over his vomiting quickly and I have decided adult education can wait till the kids are adults. I am sick of the half splintered life I attempt to live while allocating what is left of a calcified brain to obtuse thoughts and renderings.
With anyluck it will not result in Langosh sales at 50.
The chart says menial work so it would be silly to fight it if it was inevitable. Best not have brain filled with terribly important things itching to hatch only to land on the counter of a sales job. I should be so lucky at 50.

Despite all my efforts the dogs will come back. my neighbour is no help as she watches them break down my barriers.
It will take time to settle into new reality. Must not struggle to get ahead, to what i do not know. Must live the day. Haven't done it for a while. Driven by spouse who insists for reasons unknown to me to study and pursue, but what.

My only ambition was a cattage with a garden and he blew that one well and truly. Lines in the sand. Sand shifts of its own accord, we could just as easily have waited. It may have been better for the girls at this stage to be here. Gives them time to think instead of constantly preening though the holidays have left time for preening enough. Vrnda maybe the one to worry about, I don't know. She seems like a leaf in the wind at the moment and I wonder who is doing the blowing.

Got so tired of all the desperate pondering and mortal angst. Yes I am cheesed off with the institution but who isn't.
Take it slow and don't expect everything to reveal itself just yet. It is too late to change tunes and this one has been sung for so long I might as well figure out what the lyrics actually mean before I scuttle it entirely.

It's about relationships but in the end with what. We get older, harder, more suspicious after learning so much about our own ways. Then where does tender faith come into all of it. Almost seems obsurd at this age. I shall figure it out in time I expect and I think it aught to be my own time and not uni time. Though I am a bit slow.

Back to original identity , happy cult member, mother of 4 and home maker. Ok, presently working at school but it is close to home and filled with family members so it is more or less home. Have cooks and cleaners so all is well.
I am just not ready for big questions demanding all of me.

Here they come to get me............arrghhhh.
No the door shut again. They can leave me alone for another hour.
Think i will go back to reading a translation of The Idiot. I think it is Russian. Pretty interesting.

Gees Loise, cheer up will you

The series of displacements and endings have rendered me implacable, unable to comprehend consistency or continuity, servile only to fear and apprehension.

Its placement of myself in it as only a product to consume or produce its poultry offerings, drunk in stupor with hope. Rent of consciousness that anything more may come from existence bar the animal and left only with question,. No answer forthcoming except in death or in hope, if hope can be had against such odds.

As if Maya herself had decreed the rights of the soul in possession of a body were of little choice but to join the feast of personal destruction, to her great satisfaction.

Our friend and all those who spoke and yet, submitted to the hopelessness rendered by her strained devouring demands.

Sleep now and forever scold your loss of peace
Speak now or forever hold your peace
of mind if any left after all that will be done.

uni tangent

The nationhood thing is grotesque. I was sitting in a café in Murwillumbah one day when it happened that the Anzac day parade was passing by. I had been recently watching The Lenny Riefenstahl documentaries that had been made for Hitler and was struck with the profound similarities in the Anzac parade and the German parades of the 30s. I made a comment to my Australian friend who, though she be terribly new age and modern was irate that I could equate Australia with the dreaded nationalists of Germany. Ironically Germany was a fairly young country too when it decided to get an improved grip on its identity by emasculating itself with power and conviction.

We were associated with a small community school [private] that depends on government funding. The funding was to be cut short if the school did not get a flagpole up with an Australian flag waving in the wind. We were all disgusted but the school gets regularly checked. Compromised by the almighty dollar, ideologically bought.
My most treasured Australian experience was receiving a $600 check per child out of the blue, 3 months before the elections. Who said things have changed from the feudal period. And my worst Australian experience was having an elected prime minister sacked by the representative of England. Call that little episode in Nationhood an embarrassing farce.
We are all just visitors and our bodies made from recycled waste of the land. We are all Aboriginals fighting for a space, a place to call our own. Some oppression has been lost in forgotten history, some closer to the present. It hasn’t changed or stopped so how to express? Ahhhh, I see literature. Maybe. Film? Probably. The academy will train me to think, nicely of course and maybe I will become confidant and empowered enough go out and try to change the tide of human, dare I say destruction.
But I must first appease or condition my own heart. Figured that decades ago and still working on it but the academy is definitely helping me to get out of the house so to speak.
I hear it is compulsory for the business studies students to study at least one unit on ethics and Ecology.
What is left of the university in the university is helping. When they axe the indigenous department then I will know it is time to find a deep hole to escape cut backs for the sake of the Nation.

Well that said I feel pretty beastly. How is it that it takes a university outside of the enviorn of the so called devotees to give me confidence. I guess encouraging people is not what it is all about anymore. Just rule and real estate. keep the status quo going only "the state in which we live" has become almost unlivable. Can you see that. Or is catastrophy part of your daily menu.
Maybe it was never ever meant to be. I do not know but I know I am inspired else where and I am not sure if it reflects on me or my beloved institution, the one that was going to save us all.
Maybe I was being plain dumb going for that one. It was only ever offering dinghies and some had holes in them.
Some collect in the flotsam only to be seperated by the waves. Lose an oar and you are done for.
Lets see what could the metaphor for the oar be? Whatever you like, it's open slather these days.

What the Ganga in flood is doing to me

Well this is straight from the heart.
The stench of dog shit wafts up my nose as I sit in the only place I can get reception, the roof.
Four dogs now reside in our building because I am too gutless to beat them away. It’s not that I am scared of them it is just it is too mean an act.
I cracked a joke at the expense of the Stool goddess yesterday. Said I didn’t really have a relationship with her. The kids were telling me about class at the temple and they came up with details on the shit goddess. Well blow me down I didn’t know there was one. I guess I was being smart as sure enough I spent the night crapping my head off as well as puking at the same time. Not a desirable experience. I imagined how undignified death would be.
Tedious stuff. If those smells come from inside my body I just wonder how thick our skins must be to keep them enclosed but then maybe I am often on the nose and don’t know it.
Well there is my deep insight into my present plight.
Flood waters splash intermittently as people mindlessly dump their rubbish in it. Since when have we started imitating ignorant villagers? Seeing it rot on the porch might make us think twice about our approach to living.
Well my head throbs and I have succeeded in completing 3 paragraphs of terribly late essay. The worst that can happen is I fail. That won’t be a new experience.
I just want to know what these dogs are eating that they can pass so much stool.
Why can’t they hang in an empty building?
Ants in my lap top. Expect they will clean the crap from under the key board. But do they have a colony in it?
The Samadhi flares up with Prabhupada Bhajans which means the sun is going down. It used to be much louder but Sadbhuja had them turn it down. Bummer, I always like the loud Bhajans pumping through the place. Spares me from listening to my own my mind.
Kalki has been in the water for so long even he is sick of it.
And did you think those asrama girls could take responsibility for anything,, perhaps cleaning. Not on your life No siry. They eat and play and leave the house trashed.
Thank you girls. May you breed 6 exceedingly ungrateful wretches such as your selves.
I have always been a nasty piece of work. Now the stench of dog stool is forcing me off the roof. I wonder if I should try and redeem the 400-rupee mosquito net they have chosen to deposit on.