ONE MAN'S RETURN TO THE MONASTERY BEYOND TIME
"After leaving Chiang Mai the Buddhist monk left the main contingent taking me with him high into the mountains basically retracing the steps of the ancient Chamadao, the Tea Horse Road. Some days later we parted company after he left me outside of a somewhat ancient dilapidated monastery perched precariously high up on the side of some steep Chinese mountain situated somewhere along the southern edge of the Qinghai-Tibet plateau.
"And there I sat. People from the village some distance below would come by to look at me, some would even leave me water and food on occasion. Kids threw rocks at me, dogs pissed on me. After awhile someone gave me a blanket to wrap myself up with, but still I sat. Days, weeks went by. Then one day, basically appearing out of nowhere, a group of monks showed up headed toward the village or into the fields and I followed them hoping to pull something, anything, out of the ground to eat. When they returned, I returned, entering the monastery right along with them. I looked worse than any animal and for sure smelled worse than any garbage truck. Nobody said anything and nobody questioned why I was there. Not even the master."
DOING HARD TIME IN A ZEN MONASTERY
Once enveloped by the unfolding of events after having been usurped in the never ending sea of the singular moment that blanketed the monastery and surrounding environment of Shambhala, infused as they were by a penetrating continuum of ethereal timelessness, beyond the gates of the mysterious hermitage I found myself within the grasp of a major opportunity to change, stop, or modify the outcome of downstream future events as they applied to me, --- or at least I thought I did.
"I figured, if I didn't get back over the 'hump' into the Himalayas and the monastery I wasn't sure what the ramifications might be. After having missed William Samuel in Bangalore, rather than go straight to the U.S. Consulate in Madras, I circled back around to the Ramana ashram in Tiruvannamalai hoping to catch up with the young boy. Considering any outcome from what I presently found myself in, with no clear way out, playing God with time, my intention was, if I was able to avoid the couple and get to the boy long enough talk to him, was to explain, convince, or warn him, that under no circumstances. no matter what, when as an adult he found himself in Chiang Mai and confronted with the opportunity to go with the monk, he was NOT to do it. When I arrived at the ashram with all honorable intentions to carry through on my intent, the boy and the couple were gone."
RETURN TO THE MONASTERY
ON THE RAZOR'S
As to the subject of donations, for those of you who may be interested in doing so as it applies to the gratefulness of my works, I invariably suggest any funds be directed toward THE WOUNDED WARRIOR PROJECT and/or THE AMERICAN RED CROSS