Harvest of Gems - Two

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I was sitting with Bhante, talking about Cambodian history. " Well, you know Cambodia is a mix of Indian and Chinese races. That's why it used to be called Indochina, " he said with a smile. I thought about what had happened to Cambodia lately. Since Ankor Wat it had been pretty much a downhill ride. It was really a vicious spiral of corruption and violence.

I asked Bhante why he had taken on a Cambodian body in this life. I mean these Cambodians played for keeps. There was a pause in the air. I could hear the fan whirring in the background. Bhante stared into space and said quietly, " Somebody has to help them. " I was bowled over by the answer. This was a bodhisattva speaking. The sutras made sense now.

Bhante winked, " Remember, you're the problem and the solution. " I finally got it, that one's salvation was really internal. It could also be eternal if you could apply this wonderful wisdom NOW. I mean RIGHT NOW.

I hustled over to the Bengali saint's place. The signal was getting louder. There was nothing left to do in northern California. I was overwhelmingly conscious of this. All kinds of feelings were converging in me now. All kinds of karmic cycles too. Fear, sadness, and desire collided with joy, love, and stillness in an accelerating rush. I felt lost and confused. And that's when I heard it. It was a female voice, crisp and clear, calling from an unknown direction. I wanted to now surrender. I didn't know how.

I was a exploring a new world. In this new world, love was less conditional, less reciprocal. It was just pure. It was just automatic. It was a high energy that quickly revitalized any lower energy. The fog was finally starting to clear. I was getting it. Unconditional love was the supreme alchemy. It was no longer a control and coordination thing. It wasn't a religious thing. It was a spiritual thing. It was so beautiful, I cried.

I went to see Swami one last time. " It's been fun, " he playfully said. " Yeah, it has, " I confirmed. " You survived because you were protected. Don't ever forget that. Listen to that voice you heard, in the bathroom. This is a pure place. " I knew he was right. Swami always was right. Swami waved goodbye and disappeared into a small speck as I drove off.


Fantasy and sci-fi are HIGH CONCEPT genres and are the wave of the future. These genres are wide open and can process multiple visions for a global civilization undergoing rapid changes. Spiritual fiction can be integrated into these forms. Adventure and one-on-one emotional drama can breathe life into a high concept vision. Maps for living in a complex world are in heavy demand now. This vision is a goldmine and a moral burden.

We must now make vision maps of multiple worlds with multiple observers. Everything is hologrammically interconnected. There is a new physics to describe these spacetime transformations. There is no fixed universe and a separate observer. There are only fluxing aspects of this universe with many multiple observers. It is also impossible for one to accumulate any real knowledge. One can only accumulate experiences.

Any disorder we see, is only our ignorance of a deeper hidden order. We live in a multiplex universe. All is interconnected. We can choose to limit our experience to a narrow band or explore the entire wave-length. There is also the option of choosing a narrow band and digging deeper into it. The end process is the same. All is one.

There are all kinds of peaceful and wrathful maps for transformations and purifications. We live in an age of multiplex mapping and constant multi-tasking. There is a continuum with multiple levels of being and real bodhisattvas know how to help all beings on all these levels.

The young Lama told me to change my dollars on the Indian black-market. He told me I could stay at the monasteries for a dollar a day. The young Lama also told me that the Karmapa crisis was turning now into a kind of Vatican war. The tulku system was now also collapsing. The new holy kids just didn't have the juice. The success rate was now only twenty percent. The west and its temptations were smashing the system to bits. The young Lama was a tulku himself, but he had never been enthroned like his great uncle. It was really bad for the EGO. All the greats were dying and not being replaced fast enough.

I checked into a motel in San Diego and got ready for the countdown. Apple was back from Prague. " Bring them some peanut butter. They're dying for some peanut butter, " he urged. " What's Prague like? " I asked. " Beautiful! " he exclaimed. " They will be pleased to see you. They will be pleased.." Apple then hung-up. I felt sheer dread and total excitement.

I took a warm bath and just stared into space. I was dreaming about near-death escapades and mind to mind talks with the Lamas. The Hopi guy called at the last minute, asking for some flower seeds from Nepal. I hugged everyone goodbye and was driven to LAX. It was finally show-time and I almost missed the plane.

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