If your shoes are clean, wear them

Once again, I realize just how well suited I am to Ashram living.
I've been here 3 days, this time around... and my choice to come here was right.

The real Yogis know me... just like the real shaman know me.
The ones who hide out pretending, while eating the free food, and sleeping indoors
in the warmth, well... they can't wait to see me leave.

Interesting how that goes.

It would be so easy to live in an ashram again.
So easy.
On good days, would be like living at a ski resort ora golf resort or a commune.
Fresh excellent food, plenty of entertainment... masks to hide behind, if I needed them. On bad days it would be all the same things, except like a prison.

Can you sense where this blog entry is headed?

Oh,wouldn't itbe grand to put on the Sanyasi robe again.
The saffron and the beads.

....so much easier than the truly far more austere path I walk,
outside those protections.


The harder life is to serve inside the world, to be among the people, to wear the same clothes... to not expect the support from afar or the airship to safety...

This confuses the IRS and the investigators. The really believe I have hidden wealth somewhere... they don'tunderstand that I would continue this audacity of trying to benefit the world without an official non-profit umbrella. This makes no sense to them.

True, I haven't met many out here living this way. True, it's a lonely path.
True, I miss the wonder of students that might want to clear my path ahead of me... True, I am amazed at the practices of those devoted few who accept those trappings.
True, I sometimes wish I could participate.

But then , there would also be the ones who would want to catch me breaking my vows... and I'd probably be set up, over and over until I did... and it would be so hard to refuse young legal excellent p**sy, if it offered itself to me this evening... I'd probably let the slip and slide hypnotize me...

But out here, the "indy yogi shaman" get no such offers... why? Give me a break,
you know why... there's nothing in it for them... Life in my truck, that's all I have to offer... always one step away from losing it all.

One foot in, and the rest of me in another world, trying to reach higher.

I miss the free excellent food. I miss the idealistic fantasy of power.
I miss the illusion that there is anything to strive for beyond connection with the God/Goddess within. I miss all those songs and dances... they are so much easier than the life I live now.

I keep deepening these vows... and I try to serve a wide range of Masters...
If they live/lived something real, deep, expanded and true, I try to help further the best part ot their vision.. the part that is in common with us all.

Indy Yogi Shaman....

Not for everybody.

When you know you can get a badge by participating with the flow... yet you participate with your own inner voice and keep yourself busy there, you run the risk of the fellow,disciples discussing your shortcomings while you are gone. Their biggest criticism is how few times you make it to the worship service.

When you refuse to agreee that "our way is the best and only way", you run the risk of being shown the highway. but instead, you are already on it, towards another series of projects as big as any folks could ever dream up... all completely anonymous and all completely beneficial 5 years down the line... so far down the line that you are never sure you actually did much good , anyway... yet, when they figured out you were not going to do their song and dance, you really piss them off when you are already gone.

When you sit at the various temples and gatherings and youhear the preachers preaching against "W" , orthe imposter practitioners... and yu get up and leave before they are finished, and then they preach against "people like you"...

You know you might actually be headed somewhere, somewhere important.

Somewhere vital.

Somewhere necessary.

I don't believe in bullet proof vests. I think God/Goddess is in charge of the days we have before us. You won't find me co-operating with a system that straps a person into a pope mobile, or sheilds their speeches behind selected audiences who agree to agree to everything in advance...Yet...I don't think this means that a person inside those systems is inherently evil... Those choices are theirs...

all that matters to me, is this;
...When they get the chance to make the loads/burdens of the many suffering lighter,.... do they lighten them?

Or do they justify banking the last drop of profit instead?

I would rather that every greedy person get a chance tolearn from their greed and transform, than to wreck the world by dethroning them or anyone in power.

Who really cares?

If life we are easy as these equations... then I'd be right,andI'd be living inside these safe ashram walls, with the free excellent food, the heat, and the blessing of these many friends.

But I am smart enough to know that would be a prison of well being that might convince me I had learned enough... and there is a danger inside such complaceny.

There is so much more to learn and know.

Life has humbled me to see that my feelings ofbeing so right over theyears have faded to expereince and compassion through real lessons direct.

It is not an easy way.

It confuses people.

For the title of "reverend" I do not preach enough.
Where's my church?
How could being a living witness to the beauty amongthe concrete and steel be service?

Am I a yogi?

Then where are the robes?


Listen to this folks,
.....tonight, I filmed these kids who put on a series of plays about the illusions of love, at a community college.....

After 30 years of media expereince, and while living in my ARTtruck , I did that in exchange for basic expenses.

Yeah.

25 years ago, I'd have gotten 400 bills for the exact same time investment.

Yet, I filmed their genius for less than 40 bucks.

Does that qualify as service to you?



Maybe not.... but you will never know, or be able to track it, if it converts to inspiring one of these brilliant writers, actors, directors when they create a film for your great grand kids. Something that shifts our future in a new direction of insight, like visionary art surely can.

and for me,
it's well worth the risk.

I may well have filmed the next spokesman for a future charity that gets a little closer to that level of public stage, from the life blood I exchanged to deliver these memories for them.

they may never recognise this for 20 years....

and then they might get out the video, dust it off and seee themselves and their dream, then pick it back up and do it for all of us.

that's as good as any service I could ever dream towards or become.

and it is how we get to where we are today.

In the footsteps of the belief people have for our potential,
we awaken, and are destined to walk.

and while we walk, we discover just how awake we really, really are.

yeah.

give me another 20 years of service like this,

and then maybe I will relax again and aceept the free room and board and saffron robes.

and be quiet.

Cause there's nothing more than that I really want.

but life is too short to just get what you want without knowing you definitely earned it according to your own yardstick.

so there.

Meanwhile.

I get really grateful to hear the younger yogis say I should be official and wear the robes.

All they are really saying is that they recognise me.

....and I love those mirrors of light. oohah

Switching canoes mid-river is entirely possible... but you have to be in balance, you have to shift your weight very carefully and you have to be fully focused on the tasks at hand. Let those boats rock... those boats will rock,those boats will rock, that's just what boats do... they rock when you standup in them... so, let them rock, but be very, very careful....I am swtiching canoes while juggling viewpoints, life equations and perceptions all at once. Can't change what IS, these are the circumstances. I have some dear life-long friends who are trying to wish me well. some shine a light on the bank I just left, some shine a light on the bank I am headed for. Both are distractions, but I am trying to be kind. They have no idea, neither of them, how delicate these manuevers I am trying to survive are , nor how important it is that I make it to where I am going. Seems like I have made stuff like I am now doing look easy, in the past... but now, it is very, very, very different. Now it is extremely dangerous... there are waves in these waters, crockodiles everywhere, and lost cuases rise up out of the mirky water beckoning me to give them another chance. Distractions galore... and all this is leaning me in ways that you wouldn't believe... the folks on both shores think I am showing off... they think this is a staged daredevil event... they roar with approval, and I do what I can to try to hear the small voices among their clamour who are trying to tell me what is really going on... It's a dangerous process and you do not want to live this life, like the one I am in the middle of trying to shift to the new canoe..... it's a livehshoo... a live shoo.... and the time/clock is ticking, ticking, ticking... I am severely limited regarding my availability to this computer, this center, these processes. I have to juggle the whole arrangement of things with deft hands. I get the same ole intuitions and I follow through on the ones that seem supported, I also notice a few folks running like hell, while a few others walk closer. The newcomers seem to be bright, brilliant and ready.. My work goes on... those old days seem to be fading, yet I put out th ecall for help, hoping someone throws in a rope, so I can pull myself across, once the new conaoe stops shaking. It's gotten easier to paint. Everyso often a wise goddess gives me a show, as if to say that she senses I need empowerment... so she dances in the distance. How does this look? sometimes it's as simple as the non-verbal communion I expereinced in the parking lot of my favorite nature retreat. She watched me, and I studied her watching me, while she packed her bike, and I packed my gear and my bike. Just the two of us, while she massaged her athletic legs with moisturizer... I thought, "wow... she feels completely safe with me here" and I felt definitely empowred. How did she know that would mean so much? There we were, and both of us busy with our packing... she could have stood anywhere else, I know I would have... yet she faced me... 20 feet away, peeled off her sweater, massaged her tired muscles after her mountain bike ride, and I maintained my sense of feeling respected, of feeling honored, of helping her feel safe... I packed my bike on my roof.. I packed my watercolor gear in my art truck... and everyso often, I 'd see her study me... and she kept being full and in here power. I did not say a thing... neither did she... I kept busy... so did she... then as I rolled away, I wondered... "did she recognize me from my local Cable acees tv show?" ... had she seen me around town?... How did she know I was so ready to protect her? How did she know that her safety there was my main concern? How did she know that I was so grateful she could be herself in those ways, right there, knowing that I was nearby? I was studying her, studying me... and my shaky canoe was getting steady. ..... and I was damn grateful, because that level of respect and honor and trust in my presence filled my soul... it was exactly what I needed to know... and I am still breathing that integrity reflected in. How rare it is that women feel this safe... I choose to believe she had seen my show over these past 10 years. I choose to believe she was letting me know that she was grateful for my work and knew that my respect for her beauty was guaranteed..... And I was thinking fondly that I had finally crossed a bridge, in a way... that I could see the beuaty in her at her age... I was noticing that she was beuatiful , yet she wasn't your avearage young hotty. she was a mature professional woman. I love the idea that she was feeling empowered knwoing that I saw beauty in her, at her age... I was sensing that she might be one of those professional women who wonders where all the real, honorable men are... and I was wondering if she was thinking I could have shared coffee with her, if I had only asked. And I was noticing that it wasn't even in my process... why? Because, I didn't want her to take any conversation from me in the wrong way... so, I didn't offer how beautiful the day was, or why I was feeling so happy about the watercolor I had just started out on the hill that day... I wanted her to bring up a conversation, and if she did, I would have responded, but as far as I was concerned, the safety there was primarily for her, and the power to speak was in her , and I did not want to intrude.. so I kept busy... I packed my gear and left, while waving a respectful goodbye... I love it when I get shown this kind of beauty while I move through this alienated town. I love it when the girls takes a cell phone picture and smiles while she drives by... thanking me for the art truck. For now, my life is all about making it across this river... I have no time to really visit with anyone... all eyes are on the distant bank. 3edYcv