Harvest of Gems

Prague - Calcutta - Auschwitz

The entrance to "Little Auschwitz" had the famous ARBEIT MACHT FREI letters hovering below the clouds like a sad and lonely riff. Once past this, Marush and I followed a dirt path that led directly to the prisoner's barracks and some pretty revolting exhibits. Stacks of hair, eye glasses, and suitcases greeted us and made us flinch.
Small piles of Zyklon-B gas cans stood as mute testimony to GROSS and HEAVY BLACK STRESS. There was even a small-scale model of how people were processed through the gas chamber assembly-line. All this frightened Marush and he was anxious to leave. I decided to do a puja with Marush at the memorial wall where countless prisoners had been shot. I could feel a heavy pressure in the evening air, but the space began to expand as I chanted through the Tibetan texts, the blessings of the compassionate guides. I soon started feeling release and so did Marush. The locals were begging for blessings. The stress had been enormous here. Transforming this shock and evil into bliss and release was a momentous task and I could feel the protectors and guides helping out. Words were useless here.

The moon as seen from Auschwitz:
The seas on the moon are like stone and there is either a killing brightness or complete darkness-there are no gentle transitions on this dead planet. Everywhere the surface shows the effects of intense pounding. There is no atmosphere whatever. There is no life.

Auschwitz as seen from the moon:
There seems to be a haunting bottomless quality, hinting of possible enlightenment, down there, on that little plot of land. THEY ARE MINING LIGHT OUT OF DARKNESS.

The facts on the ground at Auschwitz:
Marush wanted to go back to Krakow so I escorted him to the train station. I then had to find my way back to "The Museum" in the dark. The bus dropped me at the back of the camp and I got lost. The energies felt sinister and evil. I began walking away from the camp into a poorly lit road leading out into the dark and unfriendly fields. A cursing drunk stalked me and a dense and terrifying panic soon engulfed me. I was doing wrathful puja almost by accident. The drunk was my assistant. I eventually stumbled into the camp after retracing my steps from where the bus had left me.

I suddenly found myself next to the crematorium and gas chamber. It was pitch black except for a few lonely lamps that silhouetted the watch-towers and barbed wire. I could hear the locals wailing and the protectors were very aggressive. I slowly walked and recited some mantrum. I was now unwittingly doing advanced Tantra in Hitler's cemetery of cemeteries. I was plowing inside BLACK and discovering more BLACK. I walked out front, finally and trudged out to a deserted highway. All puja was instant and automatic in this challenge zone. The Nakpa who had died recently and had helped Summer and me at Konopiste was helping out here too. There was a deep connection here between all three of us. Summer and I made our offerings to the Czechs with the Nakpa's approval. Now I was making my offering to the Poles here, at Auschwitz with his blessings once again. I ultimately found the "INFORMATION CENTER" and booked myself a room for the night. A priest took a liking to me and started quizzing me about "my pilgrimage." Father Pytor was a devout Catholic, but demanded the need for proof on the spiritual path. "I need to hear myself think," he aggressively announced. "God allows me this space in my mind," he added. Yet, how could any observation of God be real if the observer himself was an illusion? I wondered quietly to myself. (Jarek had also jammed on this quite heavily.) Father Pytor sensed that my seeking was genuine and the next morning drove me to "Big Auschwitz" about a mile and a half from the "Information Center."
He dropped me off at "The Gate of Death." Father Pytor pointed his finger towards the gate. "There! Over there, you'll find God!" His car sped off, leaving a cloud of dust to linger as an additional reminder of my predicament. I now had to face some nasty demons and my only real weapon against them was compassion. Did I have enough of it?
I was in Birkenau. It was almost beyond description. It was at least three times larger than "Little Auschwitz." The rail tracks went right through the gate. The trains deposited the victims right in front of the gas chambers and ovens. It was a HIGHLY ORGANIZED AND INDUSTRIAL PROCESS. Humans were the input and fertilizer was the output. It was a sick Second Wave process. There seemed to be no moral constraints. I climbed the tower and gazed at the vast death factory in front of me.

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