Monument Valley color study

Friday, November 22, 2013

Dial a swami

I shan't bore you too much with the details, time being assuredly short for all of us at present, but I recently traveled to see the proverbial yogi at the top of the mountain. It is hard to find a bona fide card carrying guru these days, let me tell you, and just do yourself a favor, save yourself the hassle and take my word for it.

I trolled the Khumba Mela, thumbing through the various gurus, fakirs and charlatans that reside in the icy waters of the Ganges, nagualed with Castaneda, double domed with Owsley, played ping pong with Ouspensky and his funny sidekick Gurdjieff. That rascal Yenur in New York bored through my skull with his little third eye gazing trick. Wasson thought I might enjoy a little fungal chat with Maria Sabina but honestly the woman scared the heck out of me and I hooked the first cab out of Huatla. Being a seeker can be exhausting.

All nice people but nothing really seemed to click. In matters of marriage and enlightenment one can't be too careful. So I did what any smart soul seeking siddhis and satori would do in the present day and age, I hit the internet. Swami, swami, swami, there it was. Bingo. I found the magic website. I am sworn to secrecy about some of the minutia but I believe that the chap was located somewhere near Cleveland, in a strange and wondrous land called Shaker Heights.

The enlightened one sorted through all of my lives, past, present and future. I am now officially certified through seven bardos and a thousand incarnations, whichever comes first. Read my palm, cleansed my aura, even gave me a manicure. And just when I was feeling like I was riding pretty high on my psychic high horse, I even got a few words of wisdom, something that I have been thinking about quite a bit of late.

It's not really about what you may have attained and achieved in this life time. Stop and also consider the gifts you have squandered.