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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. |
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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. |
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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.
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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.
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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." |
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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. |
