The comedian George Carlin died recently and in a “funny” way, he’s been an important part of my life for a long time? kind of “haunting” it with laughter.
Carlin was about the power of words–something that writers WANT to believe in, but don’t really. Most of the time, people ignore what you write. They may compliment you (or more often they don’t), but then they move on, your words falling away like water off a duck’s back.
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I know that as a diarist, I’m expected to write about our recent Dreamland Festival, but I’m not sure where to start. One of the problems is that everyone attended “their own” festival, depending on which talks meant the most to them and on whom they met. One thing that worked beautifully, though: we all had LOTS of personal interaction with our attendees.
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After a group meeting, an acolyte once asked his teacher, “Why do you always say the same thing?”
The guru’s reply: “Because you haven’t heard me yet.”
I’ve been thinking about those lines lately, because I’ve begun to notice so many PORTENTS around me. I’ve been studying a little Buddhism lately (nothing serious, just reading “Best Buddhist Writing of 2007” and a few other books). I read a great article, where a group of Buddhists traveling with a Master stop at a toll booth on the highway. The wind is blowing fiercely and the toll booth lady says, “Where does this wind come from?”
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I had experiences recently with what might be called "the extraordinary ordinary," a term I coined after reading over half a million Communion letters from common, everyday people who’d had what can only be called transformative experiences with some sort of alternative life form. It all started with a visit from the powerful psychic Glennys Mackay, who stopped off in LA, along with her husband George, after a cruise from Australia.
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