Lhasa meditation

You slow down.

Each step is a breath.

As before in other planetary places you savor beginning a new day becoming in cold, isolated, strange, mysterious reality. The street blends into the circuit. Go to the main square.

Two large chorten furnaces breathing fire send plumes of gray and black smoke into the sky. Buyers collect offerings from juniper and cedar sellers and throw sweet smelling twigs into a roaring fire, finger prayer beads and resume their pilgrimage. Merit.

You join the flow, shuffling along. Feel the softness in the ageless way of meditation, a walking meditation.

It is a peaceful manifestation of the eternal now. The vast self-vibration of frequencies realizes your restless wandering ghost spirit feeling peace and serenity inside the flow.

Sky fills with clear light. As above - so below. Prayer flags lining roofs sing in the wind as incense smoke curls away. Shuffling pilgrims create a ceaseless wave - the sound of muted consistent steps, clicking of prayer beads, a gentle hum of turning prayer wheels, murmurs of mantras from lips. Everything is clear and focused on offerings, sacrifice, gaining merit in the collective unconscious. Human river flows.

Dawn light blesses eastern snow capped mountains with a pink glow. A black-faced half-naked boy throws himself down and out on hands and knees prostrating the length of his skinny skeleton. He wears slabs of wood on his hands and an old brown apron. He edges forward, pulling himself along, rises, gestures to the sky, hands together, down along his skin out and down to the ground scrapping away flesh inside shuffling pilgrims.

His eyes are on fire.

You complete one circuit after another, circling the stupa. More light and people ascending into the square - handfuls of juniper feed roaring flames, Crack! Hiss! Burn! Back to Dust!

You walk through fire.

Do this practice every day.

This is an auspicious time to be here. You are aware of the energies and practicing discernment when recognizing sensitivities and realities on the ground. This is vital.

Be wise and prudent in your actions and behaviors. You are a guest on Earth with responsibilities, remain open, vulnerable, receptive and authentic.

It is essential for you to refresh, reinforce and renew your calm warrior nature. Keep a diamond in your mind.

Allow creative instincts to guide your journey with clarity, insight and wisdom. Remain open and receptive to all the spiritual forces around you now. Cultivate, nourish and manifest your inner strength and focus accepting and acknowledging lessons and deeper meaning.

Practice dignity and restraint. Conduct yourself in mindfulness realizing your divine essence.

Source: A Century is Nothing

a Century is Nothing - backstory

In 2007, while living and teaching English in China he self-published A Century is Nothing, a literary memoir.

This after receiving fifty rejection letters from literary agents, "No thanks...doesn't meet our needs...it's not mainstream for the general reader...too many characters...too long..."

The first thing a literary agent considers when reading a query, synopsis and the first five pages is, "Can I make 15% on this?"

Traditional publishing is a casino. A crap shoot. 50 Shades of Gravy is a perfect example.

After research he selected iUniverse, a print-on-demand company in the United States of Amnesia.

Print-on-demand offfered publishing packages and he figured, "What the hell. Release the monster." He paid. 

They sent him an eighteen-page critique and structural suggestions. He implemented some and ignored others. He line edited the beast. He submitted a cover image and selected the design.

Six months later he received a hard copy in Turkey where he taught English. He opened the bulky brown envelope. The book slid onto the table. Thump!

The young Chinese girl's curious eyes stared at him from the cover. He'd made the image at a nursery school in a Fujian village. Her eyes said hello, I made it.

He felt grateful and elated. He turned pages, smelling paper, scanning ink. Wow, this is amazing. He also felt detached, knowing it was a deep letting go. It didn't belong to him now. It lived in the world. It was free.

The production company sent his friend in Amnesia 40 copies as part of the publishing agreement. He sent them to friends so they could read adventures. The POD had served its purpose. 

In 2007, about a thousand years ago in the world of technology, E-book publishing was in its infancy. Now it's a viable alternative to POD and traditional publishers.

He canceled the agreement with iUniverse this fall and took control of the book. He printed it. He pulled out a red pen and slashed it. Into pieces.

In the process he created a smaller, lo-fat, slim version entitled, Subject to Change, his original working title. After revising (the party) he printed it, edited it again and published it on Amazon and Smashwords. Wa La.

He turned his attention to A Century is Nothing and repeated the process. Writing is re-writing or polishing.

He created a 2nd Edition with a new cover image and bought ISBNs from Bowker. He published it on Amazon and Smashwords as a paperback and E-book at a reasonable price. It ain't about the money. It's about the journey.

No editor or POD is going to drink champange from his skull. 

When you come to a fork in the road, take it.

Now you know the process. 

If it meets your read needs review it on Amazon (good, bad, ugly) and drop him a line. Sharing is caring. Thanks!

Happy reading!

training wheels required

let's take the kindergarten kids to Nepal, said Elf.

excellent idea, agreed Orphan.

put training wheels on your bike.

it's all uphill from Laos.

what will they experience there, asked Orphan.

Hinduism, Shiva, Vishnu, Brahman, Ganish, a plethora of dieties.

pristine elevation.

let's go.

Tibetan Pain

Inside Drapchi prison near Lhasa, Chinese guards beat Tibetan nuns and monks with rubber hoses filled with sand.

They applied electric cattle prods to their bodies, sending wire cranked juice through skeletons, extracting screams. Denounce the Dalai Lama, screamed one soldier, a young lackey from Human Province. He tightened metal screws around a woman’s wrists, bending them back at a horrendous angle until she screamed from pain, Never!

He wiped her blood off his broken glasses and increased the pressure. It was a job.

I am doing my DUTY, he screamed.

Save my face, sang a Chinese girl, an innocent victim of the national genocide one-child policy wringing out a mop made of spider webs inside water rainbows.

She languished in a large bland cavern classroom at a private business university in Fujian. It was private because all the students had failed higher level exams for more prestigious universities. They settled for this prison. She cleaned crumbling uneven cement floors with strands doing her Duty.

Beijing operatic actors fashioned death masks for their performance in a funeral formula. 

More...

Vairochana

Namaste,

Once upon a time he went to Nepal. Specifically Boudhanath. He walked into a cafe.

A woman sat at a table with a lap top. Are you writing a book, he asked. She laughed. No, not really. I'm starting a new Buddhist magazine.

It's called Vairochana. 

Great, he said, Maybe I can help you. Ok, she said, That would be great. They became friends. He helps her with copyediting.

Pasang recently published her second issue. She included something he wrote.

You can read it hear.

 http://vairochana.com/articles/item/24-once-upon-a-time-in-nepal.html

Metta.