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Saturday, March 31, 2007

The Wind by James Wisniewski AKA wZ 

[Note: The wZ is on pilgrimage in India. Here are some of his thoughts.]

I had already swept the monkey poo off the balcony, stretched, showered and chanted..... gazing out the window running through the different Indian flutes that I have collected... trying to get the hang of their playing style ... when a large wooden boat with a banner for a new High rise stretching the length of the vessel appeared.... It seemed totally out of context with all the row boats and Hindi bathers amongst the water buffalo.... It set my mind into motion of the Friends that I visited last night having gone to see a 'Bollywood" movie about a woman falling in love with a Cricket star and leaving her husband.... the theatre was in the new Mall that has been constructed somewhere near the city.... they said it was just like America... with a McDonalds and everything... air conditioned... clean... the theatre better then any that were in Israel, where they are from... sounded quite gross and they too were repulsed... so glad that I haven't come close to any of that thus far.... My mind looking at this boat with its big Western obnoxious Florida type pull behind the plane advertising, right here in this holy city of Varranassi, India.......sitting next to me is the Journey To Ixtlan, by Casteneda... just finishing chapters on calling of the allies and their tremendous power..... at the Very moment that I am thinking that 'Damn" nothing you can do to stop this infection.... I see a big dust cloud roll through the herd of buffalo, two seconds later the bamboo framing holding the banner Snaps with sound of a gun shot, flinging the massive billboard into the water, with the boat attendants scurrying to rescue the intrusion. With a smile of content acknowledgment of the great spirit and the irony of it all... I knew that there was a force to hold it all back and when the time comes that it will show its power.... Beautiful.

Finally falling back into a groove with time and practice.... Awaking an hour before sunrise... watching the first bathers arrive... it gave me contemplation as to going into the Ganga myself at this time... before all the human waste starts pouring in from the city and all the soap, animal funk, people and boats stirring up the now quiet, serene rolling reflection. Learning Balance.... everything cleared out of the room so that the sound is best from the concrete walls and also that I can stretch doing the yoga thing ... basically just standing still for twenty minutes breathing until that near perfect balance is achieved ... almost hallucinogenic watching the mist and swimmers crossing on their daily journey..... as in a dream a murder of crows speckles the sky flying straight towards my window and over the building .... mystical stuff..... It was the caw of the crow that got me to leave the flat today... I was relaxing then the insistent cawing caused me to investigate the sound...outside my window It took a minute to find the bird of omens and when I did I saw that it was cawing at two boys who were comparing watches..... immediate instinctive knowing that I needed to leave because I didn't have enough time to complete all my task... Thank you crow... Thank you Don Juan and Carlos for Your shamanistic outlet in your books.

The water goes out about as often as the electricity ... fortunately the bucket method is what I have grown used to and I had a full bucket to rinse off with.... No such thing as hot water in my building,,, the water is refreshing like a baptism and I get to put on the new shirt and freshly bucket washed white cotton pants to sport about town in....

Figuring out how to keep the placed locked up tight with the cheap locks that are offered ... just have to hope for the best... They haven't got door knobs over here.... any one could come along and lock you in your own place at any time ... a sliding hasp on either side of the door is what the standard door fastener is ... instant cell for a whole civilization.... My place has double doors on al the entrances....the one to the balcony had a big enough hole to let the monkey in so the landlord came down with a hammer and nails.... the hammer was about six inches long on a broken down handle ... no claw ... just a hunk of steel to pound with ... the nails were three or for bent up used ones and a few tacks in a rusty can ... then we were supposed to get a nail through the dense dry hardwood on a termite eaten, sun beaten, falling apart frame of a door.... it took about twenty minutes of trying ... using bricks and scraps ... splitting wood ... bending nails ... till we finally got a tack into the board enough to keep the whole covered ... though even a baby monkey could rip it apart and come steal my bananas... I keep the large room sealed off in the morning so that the sun wont heat up the room ... after a couple hours of flute in the small room ... the big room is more private where no one can really hear me, a better place to chant vocals when timid... Lighting some potent Incense and grabbing the shruti box onto the bed...it was mesmerizing watching the seductive dance of the smoke through the cracked light fragments piercing the darkness....giving the atmosphere a vehicle in which to be seen....the fantastic further dimension revealing itself to all who care to pay attention. Deep guttural hints of Tibetan monk chanting keep seeping out of my lungs as I peek at the glowing red tip of frankincense sticking out of the large old mortar and pedestal by the broken door. The scent eludes me...as it is the motion, the dance, the revelation of sound...something new something sacred, delicate, raw, fresh and innocent joining in the encubance of one thing ... the ever present moment ... no future ... no past... only the now.....

The sound of a persistent author on his/her typewriter just across the temple has been with me since before I awoke ... some dedication ... makes me think of my True artist writer friends back in the states ... the jake berrys and jack randoms of the world ... filling pages with important thoughts, bearing their souls for the sakes of others.... Makes me think of Carlos Castenada's dedication and the story of warrior mentality ... consulting death as an adviser for every action ... there are no miscalculated movements ... pay very close attention ... every move could be your very last one..... act as if this is so.

[Note: Forward comments about this and other postings to jackrandom@ earthlink.net.]

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