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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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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
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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contents of this site copyright by Michael Arthur Finberg