ouch

This white mac I have can cook a lap and leave it burning for hours. Lucky all my descendants have already taken birth. I would otherwise risk fried off spring.

We were bequethed a fish tank with desperate, sad fish who swim in circles looking for a life that will never happen. Ring any bells? These fish depend upon the mercy of the voyers that keep them, us. A child, I suspect came into our insecure home and poured the mother load of fish food into the tank. One poor fish just ate too much and lo, a week later the messengers of death came into our home and took little black fishy away. We tried to fix him with reiki but it seems we are not masters of that. You know I had this awful feeling about the tank some days prior to the departure of our black friend but I could not pin down what it was. Maybe I just did not really care enough about these fishy fiends that look at me as I pass by. Hoping against hope that as we walk by we may be the one to solve the perenial question. Why, oh why am I here in this undersized fish tank with a snail and a sucker. Actually, there are two snails, one adolescent. How or where it came from, I do not know as there was only one snail. Do snails need mates? This is what a fish tank will drive you to.

Who would be cruel enough to buy fish as decorative items? Who would stick a bird in a cage and why?

So, enough about the bloody fish that got eaten by the snail as soon as it was evident he could not defend himself. His eye ball sucked out by a voracious snail. His body nibbled by the gold fish until I fished his body out and flung it in the yard for some other creature to feed off. Do we feed off each other too, both psychically and otherwise? Is the tomato I eat grown in the soil that once helped the body of an interned muslim to decompose. I say Muslin only because they bury their dead here. The rest are burnt and thrown in the Ganga that floods the rice paddies which we feed off. Feeling like a cannibal now?

Now for intelligence. There is a quote I would like to share with the the very few that occasionally read this page. Actually I am sharing it with my alter ego. Left to myself as a child, I have a whole reality going, hence the presence of my blog, my alter reality.

So Joshua Reynolds had this idea.
"There is no expedient to which a man will not resort, to avoid the real labour of thinking"
Thomas Edison used it. I relate to it as I do remember having a very clean house when essays were due. Suddenly house work seemed so awfully important and in reality it is way down on the list of my life priorities. Of course I like to think that I am not a sloth but in reality I am a shamed person who cleans because of fear. Fear of my obsessively tidy friends and the scorn they try to hide when entering my domain. Some are quite skilled, others more verbose. One refused to sit on my couch, but really I am not that bad. It is clean untidiness, harmless enough. And of course you couldn't care less and I know that. This is all for me, not you, ya bugger.

And local politics. Well you know what I think. I think the silly buggers in this place aught to own up to the fact that they tried to burn the place down and admit culpability. Encourage people to reject gossip in future and have the courage and decency to admit a spasm, all be it a prolonged one, of sheer stupidity. Now wouldn't that be a generous and honourable thing to do? But these men have yet to encounter greater things. The rice paddies stretch too far and the netherworld remains a figment of hope and dreams. Dreams of idealised material life minus the onus to be human. A human being is honest. A human is humble and most of all, a human has the courage to take up responsibility even if all is at the hand of the Lord. Spare God some things and wear it yourselves.

Let me put in a clearer light. Parents are told of heinous child abuser risking safety to all. Thief, cheat and offender to the dignity of the righteous and true who educate their children. Parents stand indignant never questioning the source of this information. Management run with propaganda and give it some real significance. Heavens, if it is in print, it must be true. If some say it then it must be done. All in all never a question or doubt.

Upon finding all is lies and false statements, what do we have? Silence and a reinvention of the truth again. Lets just pretend it was about something else. Never ever say die or sorry. Never say sorry. Just like Johny Howard eh? Saying sorry admits culpability and we do not want that. Come on guys, slander me again, bring it on and in a new flavour. Damn, poor guys can't find anything on me. I do feel for you. Must be frustrating wanting to ruin a man when he is free of real crime or heinous sin. All to get your signature on that pink slip perhaps. MAybe not. Maybe you guys care about children after all and some how you think slander, gossip , innuendo and lies is an experience that is inevitable to survive this nasty world. Like fish feeding on dying fish. Or the pups i saw feeding off the dead body of their mother. Or the ants devouring the live worm. So how do we differentiate a human. At this stage of the game, we do not. Feed off me all you like guys but there isn't much flesh here. I'm straight, bummer eh? You will have to come up with more inventive lies about me to cull me. Maybe you could use my blog. Nasty piece of work so far. I figure I am simply reflecting my environment.

Mean while i drop my resentment but only for a minute. Kalki wants a night of game playing with the family and states we have let him down. "All you guys do is have head aches, go on the computer or do puja" I thought that was a good synopsis of our activities. Poor kid, came too late in the game to have fun with us.

The kitkats are too sweet in India and guess what guys, you can buy them on Iskcon property. Slam me for that will you.
Hey, sometimes i don't wear full tilak. Sometimes i have bad thoughts like , I want to stay at home and be away from you all. What other inebriaties can I tell you of that will help to condemn me and free the children from my sinful influence.

Now I know how those paranoid Russians from the communist period felt. All is spies and destruction. A mean world of survival based on dirt on each other. A movement to be proud of.

And activism is death. Activism is evil. If only I had one leader I could be proud of. All run for cover and hide for fear of offending, but why. Is it political or is it some idea that God doesn't like confrontation. Didn't get that impression from the Gita, that's for sure. Maybe they all have so much dirt on each other they tremble at what they could do to each other. Cold war perhaps. Heavens this communism thing keeps coming up.

I want to know what a really smart person thinks of this thing we call our movement. I know there are million perspectives but surly one of them will resonate enough with me to make sense of what it is I am presently experiencing.

I don't want to be pleasant for now. I want to tackle or grab the crap. I want to throttle it, propound it, reveal it and then smudge it till it can be reconstituted, redeemed and made into something good. Hiding and pretending is waylaying it and leaving it to inevitably rise again; to torture yet another perplexed human being trying hard to work for Iskcon.

Is it India, is it West Bengal. Does poverty drive a man to this madness? is it the material vacuum we experience here.

Given we all believe in Karma, we need to consider what it is we do in life and then wonder what next.
But, I think I am engaging in a more complex view of existence as this simplistic appraisal is simply not cutting it with me anymore. The answers are with some bright spark and I will have to try a little harder to seek them out.

Radha is listening to Hrydayanada Maharaja lectures. He gives such clear explanations without simplifying or assuming we know what the heck is going on. Without negating the need to know, as some would have us endure because of their inability to adequately articulate the philosophy in a way that satisfies the modern intellect. Spare me the swans and effervescent nectar. Given me some understanding before I start jumping around like another random religious lunatic.

shite....... forgive me my trespass as I....

Well, you really got to wonder who reads this. I got my first hate mail the other day and it quotes my blog to verify my hate worthyness. Gees, sorry guys. I didn't mean to hurt you or your kin. I get mighty precious and oh so rightous; it reflects my weakenss. I fear my kids following my long lost relatives misdaventures and they had a few. I am the product of one of those misadventures. Nothing like living the life of unwanted progeny. But it is neither here nor there. I do get my nickers in a knot about life style bacause we implicate ourselves through it. It's a tricky thing and again I apologise for being the insensitive, judgmental prig that I am. Forgive me.

It appears, I am incapable of friendship too. Well that is subjective and I figure freindship is a two way street. I can't really define that one. Sorry again, if I appear to have failed anyone in that regard. It is purported I have failed many. I will try and study this freindship thing more closely to better understand, what is exactly required of me.

I have been inspired by the thought of misanthropy, but I am sure that will fade, being intrinsically foolish at heart.

Too wordy , word, word, word, word. Just too wordy .

They bopped us one mean and good, and some enjoyed it just for fun. Some thought, "gees, get her while she's down and no one really cares" Eh? Is that how it goes? Or maybe the one where someone goes, " I made freinds with you because I thought you were in, and so now that you are out, I think i will let you know what a little **** you really are." I like honesty.

Eric Clapton has a song, No body knows you when you are down. I thought he was exagerating. Really thought these guys where inventing these experiences. Luckily I can crap on about it here.

I think it goes, No body knows you when your down and out. Well guys, it is pretty well near on true. And when you get back on your feet.......every ones wants to be your long lost freind. Ok shouldn't be too bitter here but do need to be more wary in future, lest I have to submit to some more of the advice.......in the form of hate mail. yuko. Keep it to yourself. No body wants to know how much someone else hates them. Awful stuff. We really need more of that in the world.

And Eric has another one where he goes, [it's playing in me ear this minute] "Before you accuse me, take a look at yourself."
No, the music isn't dharmic but neither is the subject matter. But my favourite is "Tears in Heaven." Remember guys, we will die one day and will we be happy with how we treated each other then? Having lost two old mates, I can tell you regret comes in truck loads. But I am not that smart. I don't even talk to my mother. But then, she doesn't talk to me either. That freindship thing again, two way.

While I listen to Eric, might as well listen to Layla original just for fun. Angst ridden adolescence to the tune of Layla. All gone now and I face the new phase of angst. The bit before you get really old and try to figure why it all happened in the first place. A woman fifty years old and wondering what to do with the rest of her days as her children no longer need her. Tears come down from her eyes, what can i do?

Been getting up early on occassion and facing a whole new pardigm never encountered before. Must be someone's prayers, as I certainly didn't do anything to gain any more insight. Figure it's a gift. That hard Stoic stance of tolerating the mind and finding it nearly redundant on occassion. Well mine is, cos all it ever did was get my knickers in a knott over things that in hindsight seem benign. The preverbial storm int he tea cup.

Moral high grounding. I will try to avoid it in future, it has been recently tried on me. I was, kind of aware at the time, but i figured I was coming from a genuine place trying to alert. I know our stories are our own, but we do create them. I had visions for the kids and they involved the least amount of burn. Learning from burning, speaking from experience, is tiresome, slow and more often than not, potentially dangerous. You can get lost out there. But then you can get lost in here too. But I do believe there is a process to gain a footing in sanity and it requires some application. These kids need to taste the alternative and If I have been prigish in my desire for this.......forgive me. I was a kid and there were no paremeters. I know all about freedom, too much of it. I watched those girls from good caring families with all those rules and restrictions and i would have given anything to have had that care. But it has to be full time, not spasmodic. Set a precedent and you spend the rest of your life fighting it.

Amber will be here soon with, rather large family in tow. Weather is good so all should be well.

And on that.......the nobody loves you song comes on again..........when you get back on your feet.............God, he is a great guitarist. And yes, if you are desperate to Krsnise it, he was best mates with George. Coping? Let the world in and maybe your world will be a nicer place. It's way bigger than you think. Good enough for God, oaght to bo good enough for us all.

All the kids are in Kolkata recording an album of bhajans. They are so excited.

Take care and don't hate the imperfections, it'll get you down.

A story

Once upon a time there was a man and a woman; I like those words. This man and woman being fairly mature, decided to have a family. They were blessed with four children with which they proceeded to live happy and contented lives. The man and woman were people of adventure traipsing around the world, kids in tow.
One day this family found itself in West Bengal, a place famed for the birth of Lord Caitanya, the last incarnation of God. This is where the story gets hairy but an adventure wouldn't be one without a little suspense and perhaps some drama to boot.
The real story...... starts here, on the bank of the Ganga, as she laps the shore or even the road according to her whim.

It seems the small and introverted community that the man and woman joined was a tad ethnocentric. Now this can prove problematic when declaring itself to be part of an international society of avowed Lovers of God. The small community that serves as inspiration to the world had decided one day to purge itself of all sin. The members of this isolated but internationally connected people decided that the local school was not pure enough, religious enough, loving of God enough and so the head master and board had to go. Unfortunately the man was the head master, what to do?
And so the man head master was advised by his good wife to go to the Lord and say, hey, whats the bag?
And so we are here waitng still but I fear it is evident that the bag has in it further adventures afar for this little family of six. Three girls and a boy with a man and a woman.
Adventures far away from West bengal or maybe close by but certainly not in this community. What the community is made of appears to a collection of willing participants in the dispersion of dues. The man and woman hope never to be engaged in such duties and so they are compelled to leave lest they too are commandeered to disperse some sorry and sad reaction to ones close by and dear.
Man and woman must run with children in tow and may never see the bank of the illustrious Ganga again.
Man will know that the world is made of conscious thought and that all actions have reactions in tow.
Woman will wonder why she is not growing strawberries in the mountains but then , what would her life be without a little adventure?
How the road for this adventurous family will end, no one can know but for now they go to the big temple close by and pray to janardan for release from the clutches of their loving peers who, bent on purifying and edifying forgot, .......to feed the dog.

Gees

Well now I stoop and tell you of the vile stench that has permeated my existance of late. The hot hot stench of gossip, thick and fast in my village and lucky me, it's all about us presently. Flavour of the month or should I say 6 months. No worries, it has made me smile on occassion. Like the one where we score $50,000 from the temple. Pity that cheque bounced. Or the one where I eat little sheep in the dead of night. Or the one where I abuse children on occassion. Or any other thing you can think of to justify loathing me even if you haven't met me or spoken more than eight words with me. No worries mate, I will oblige you with a snippet of dasterdly deeds to satiate your desire to justify hate. As I once foolishly said to Prima Dona of education, "bring it on" and she did.

So that nasty piece of vitriol lays waiting to become history and the sooner the better. It must be climaxing as I can see random acts of stupidity becoming more prolific. Don't talk to the parents, do talk to the parents. Don't consult with the directors, your words make too much sense. Oh please you are talking sense and logic. We can not abide it and blame it on a false secualr education. We want random feelings and superstition to guide us on our mery way to hell, no doubt.
The more I think of it the more I feel a quandry between sorry pity and pure disgust. Humour occasionally gets a look in.

The good thing is that inspite of the depth of frustration and malice that people feel towards us there is a hope that relationships may, in the end be mended. JPS must be praying hard as I do feel it will resolve itself. Like kids in a kinder, all has gone mad and mum has gone to dad. Heading over here with a wooden spoon or some lolly pops to distract us from each other.

Like fish in a fish tank it seems we are stuck together so we may as well get over the stench and learn some appreciation.
Vaikuntha Nitai is having a hard time of it but it probably reflects some minor hurt inflicted upon him. Sensitive chap that one. Not prone to depth or perspective, needs a little love and attention. Who better than Sucih to give it to him since he was the one that bruised the chap, ever so slightly but it seems knocks are considered on par with murder around here.

Not making much sense eh? no specifics and certainly no answers. Another story to meet the already growing multitude of stories that go round our little heads. This one involves butterfly wings. The tiny things in life roll into the enormous and then subside into the tiny once more.

A school, a community and some staff trying hard. Some parents decieved and a teacher perplexed. To teach or not to teach and all the while anxious that anyone else should take her place while not being able to do the job herself. Not to mention a newbie who seems fit to rule ......over her husband I hear and once in a while a poor maid as well. Gees I get bitter .

I'll try again. Lets see, we are not to write to the director but merely take it all on the chin and then hopefully roll over and die. I think these guys were born yesterday.

And the asram. The den of boys. What do we make of it but a hoard of vulnerable minds open to any adult ready to perplex. All the while ignored as if it didn't matter cos the guys have got better things to do, pick on Sucih as it seems.

The sane and insane and I am afraid there is near nil of the former.

I'm sick of it all and yet again foolishly expected more. Now I see we are always in the hands of the Lord. Draupadi rules but what a way to learn.

Bach comes to my rescue and reinstills a sense of beauty where I feel I may have been robbed. It's the beautiful things that enlighten and the horror that impells or compells us to it. There must be respite from the madness, there must be feeling were non seem to be. There must be tenderness where there seems non and respite from pain. Hate tempered and a resolve to be kind.

DO you think you could drop the spear for now. We too breath the God given air as God sees fit that we do. Seems if he thinks we are ok maybe you oaght to too , eh?
Back off luvy and stick to the mirror of the mind. That way we can both progress and keep out of each others way and all the while the kids see what the show really is. A show of people aiming for personal purity while encouraging and loving others, warts and all. Try it, takes the burden of the worlds faults off your shoulders and keeps the tiny task of house keeping a little closer to home, your own mind or heart being your soul sphere of influence so leave it at that will you?

Solar eclipse. Lunch at 12 Manas insisted to satisfy the resident astrologer. What fun it is to be in a third world historically spiritual town with vestiges of archaic rituals intact.

Spite leave me now, I am wasted and leave knowing no more than a message intact. Lower than a straw and more tolerant than a tree. Dignity gone and now all I have is a hope that we will be closer after it all. With a wide door for any new comers.