4.22.13
Five am--Earth Day begins with steady rain and bloody
thirsty mosquitoes. Four years ago I saw
Coldplay on Earth Day in Abu Dhabi and imagined a huge thunderstorm begin just
as the band began. The day before a
member of the group tells a newspaper they would match the cost of energy it
takes to do this show and donate the proceeds to a wind farm in New Zealand.
Did I imagine a coincidence somewhere there?
I sure got crazy with this one, eh? A message from the universe, HA! A message from Coldplay, HA! Four years later
and not a god can’t be damned bloody thing has changed.
9:23pm—The band below the banyan tree stop is in full
throttle; snake charmer’s tin horn, a drum, a tambourine of some kind and the
occasional chorus of men and boys make a wedding complete and thanks for
letting us go to sleep in twenty minutes.
After a local trek through the jungle
below the zip line leeches overwhelmed and enough enoogh said right here. Not in a happy mood this morning, better
tonite. An itinerary is put in motion,
there really is no point in waiting anymore for something you want to happen
happen. It’s back to the motherland. Tomorrow
though, is simply Tuesday.
4.23.13
Jesus didn’t have a home, Buddha didn’t have a home. Neither of them owned very much. You want me to follow their example, it isn’t
hard. Detaching isn’t difficult. The value of possessions in this room is
relative. And shedding everything to travel light isn’t new, I’ve been doing it
for fifteen years.
A stunning five am pre-sunrise,
a crack of light gold between overcast skies and the ranges. Keep it gold, Johnny. There is much to do if you want to, guests in
rooms five and six, no Didi today so I hear, and nice skies. The people will come.
The stomach grumbles. A serene and photo worthy sky keeps
me from going up.
A cup of tea, toast and an egg, swept the dining room
floor, wished Maya a happy birthday, carried one bucket of water from the tap
and I’m still waiting to use the toilet.
Yesterday’s mid-day painful forest dump apparently left a lot of room. It’s only 8:39am. I can take a walk or have a smoke and listen
to psychedelic music to distract impermanent desires. Oh wait, I smell rice and potatoes…
So are we going to do anything special on this day and
recognize the chaos that was? Well, let’s look for a job, a place to sleep,
places to eat. Survival hasn’t been that
difficult if that’s all you need to do in any given moment.
A week from today a final visa extension. How can I use
ideas and find ambition from them has been a lifetime mystery and we’re told if
the confidence were there, you could you do whatever you want and you’d be a
lot happier. That doesn’t necessarily
work though, for the rest of the world, but John, Jack, Job, whoever the hell
you are, you are not the rest of the world and the rest of the world is not
you, even though on the other hand we are pretty darn connected in spiritual
ways that speak no language.
While the parents are in Pokhara Suman takes an order and
into the kitchen he goes. His cousin, Susmita, follows. I will remain here at the table with the
window open a milk coffee that ought to wake me up a little.
The day’s brilliant morning sun gives way to a variety of
dramatic clouds and strong winds.
Vultures and paragliders, flies black-red mosquitoes, a lot of movement
going on here.
A familiar idea came to mind this morning and left me
feeling very heavy, as if such an idea was really dangerous, though I consider
hours later it is more daunting than dangerous.
Consider for a second, The Bible.
Who owns the rights of this collection of stories? The International Bible Society says I need
permission to copy a certain amount of pages.
Who gave them the authority to make such a decision? This is God’s word
and I am not proposing to add or take away general or specific revelation.
While not a jot or tittle would be removed from the New
Testament, I see a reorganization of the letters beginning with the Gospels,
followed by the letters of John, Peter, James et. al, and then the letters of
Paul. 14-13. Paul, the 13th Apostle. You could end the divisiveness in
Christendom.
With an idea like this I don’t think I could go to a
publisher unless I had the capital to publish it. And then who would buy it? Well, how persuasive can you be? An
influential man could do it, no one stopped Jefferson from his liberties with
the word.
Should I copywrite this idea now? © There, an inspired idea,
protected by God’s law.
How much would it cost to make a prototype?
The spirits anticipated something and they were bloody
wrong. What happened that left them
anticipating?
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