Passage to India, I love it. It's almost an antiquated version of Holy Cow but with political commentary. It would be great to actually figure out what India is. The book is making me realise the real depth of the cultural divide presently experienced by myself. My classroom has a Pole, a Russian, a South American, a south Indian, Canadian hybrid, Swiss, an Australian and an Italian, soon. I think that's it. I am sure I have missed something there. So the diversity is on the street, it's at work but ahh the sweet retreat of the net. Dominated by the Yanks I am in the purely homogenised zone. Pure, meaning free of any meaning at all, shallow and easy; what you see is what you get which is nothing much at all.
I went to the Puri math last night, a temple up the road outside Iskcon Mayapur. Intimate and beautifully decorated; it was a microenvironment compared to Iskcon. It had much more charm as they put energy into intricate detailed ornamentation. The deities were gorgeous. We were there to visit the local homeopath. Vrnda's eczema has flared up; too many plays and a festival have run her down.
Vishaka in Aus and experiencing the alarm of waking to a near naked and semi inebriated youth that the west is so fond of cultivating. Keep’em lean, keep’em in the dream; ne'er a day go by when a man or woman may ask the question, who am I? What am I doing here? What will happen after I die? That is the most foreboding if you happen to like living. I have noted that western life lends itself to a dark and distracted interest in death. In all the material distraction that is consumer life, the essence of life is absent. Without it death looks like an interesting option. That's my experience, my view. When I took up a semblance of devotion I lamented inevitable death. I am beginning to realise that death can be merged into the venture if the venture is sound.
I would like to devise new ways of describing my inner world so as not to paint it in a clichéd light thus rendering it redundant to sharing, having limited and stunted its meaning. Skepticism is rife and ridicule is de rigueur. Ones inner story had better be free of the restraints or vulnerabilities of previous perspectives. Innovative, new and creative use with language usually slows down the dismantling process by presenting alternative perspectives or an interesting rehash of an old one. New counter arguments to render those perspectives impotent of meaning need to be devised. But I ought to spend more time figuring out how to communicate the dialogue before contemplating its reception.
Moving on because that was not what I had set out to do in the first place. I will think more about Australia or India. Which is it and for whom? Vishaka I suppose.
The school goes as it always will. It provides us with endless lessons on all levels for all involved; the ultimate washer for the soul.
Sadbhuja is driven to a type of warped ecstasy with the new project. The pressure is on but so is the taste. A bit like a camel chewing thorns. We seek self-resolution in as many an interesting way as any animal.
My mac is literally cracking up. Those white plastic numbers got cheap after the first batch. Very disappointed and I shall whine like a cat on a fence in nasty cheap suburb.
Shut down, it's late and no time to write. Another day, and a hope that thoughts become more coherent
