Ra Going Away!

10:40a.m.
Packed and ready to go! I'll be on the bus to Lockerbie in about two hours.

Yesterday I didn't realise how tired I was till after blogging. Knackered. Then I went and started meditating in the temple and felt great again. What would you feel like after saying mantras for seven days and nights like they'll be doing next July on the Holy Isle? Probably wonderful! They need £65,000.

I was blogging yesterday about the back story with Dr Akong. The first time (the only time!) I spoke to him he gave me a very strange look. If you're reading The Way Of the White Clouds, the autobiography by Govinda, you start to wonder.

My career as a writer, I thought, had come to an end when my partner told me she was pregnant about 18 years ago (Actually, I've never had a career as a writer! I just wrote because I wasn't wanting to do anything else!), but it stumbled on in drama with stuff I had mainly in the bottom drawer ... things I could adapt for radio or stage, or whatever. In my early forties I wrote "On Becoming a Man. Reflections on Sex and Violence. Or, Are you boys cyclists?" Serpent's Tail published it as Are You Boys Cyclists?

I thought this was the last book I'd write. It's really a memoir about boxing and bonking and writing which I wanted to leave for my daughter to read when she was about twenty five or so. So I'd have been dead by them probably. To let her know what kind of man her father was. I tried really hard to get it published and everyone rejected it as usual.

I went into the basement bar in St Stephen's Street one night to meet a poet and novelist called Barry Graham. He had a skinhead and a black teeshirt on which was written in bold white letters something like, DIE YUPPIE SCUM. It was only by meeting Barry that the book got published. This set me off to India and Nepal (made a grand from the book) with Shiva.

So instead of going to become a teacher or something, I kept writing.

How knows how things happen? Are there any accidents or coincidences?

The sensei and reverend is one of my all time favourite people. Some people think he comes from a nice wee village just outside Glasgow, but underpriviledged doesn't even begin to describe the start in life he had. You can pick holes in anyone, but that man is one of the few people I'd bow to. Authentic existence hasn't a look in. He is also a brilliant writing talent!

So what now? If I never get another book published or don't make a penny out of writing, that's perfectly okay. I've had more than my share. But I will when I leave this place ferociously try to make money from Light in the Dark. And I'll work hard on making the book I'm writing just now quite good.

I need money so my wonderful daughter (who means more to me than any number of books and any amount of money!) isn't in debt when she leaves Art College. I need a bit to live on and I'd like to go and see Rumtek (I used to say, see you in Rumtek, when I tried to visualise the 17the Karmapa) and travel in the Himalayas. Other than that, I'm giving the money to my guru so that more people can get a chance at what I've had from this place. If I was rich, I'd fund three and four year retreats.

These people have the skillful means. The y will make you enlightened if you'll just let them. Dr Akong and his wee brother are not your normal joes!

On a less serious note, last night after the five o clock meditation, (I had my eyes closed. What a sweetie eater!) there was bit of a stir among the four guys there. A bat had been crawling along the floor on its last legs. It seemed to have crawled up to the big Buddha statue and expired. Folk thought it was dead anyway. Tell Temple Dave, said the monastic. Smile. I've been calling him Dave the Doorkeeper in this blog, but Temple Dave his is. They left. I went up to where the bat was to have a look. I'd never been that far up the temple before. The bat was still and half on the rug and half off. I thought what brilliant karma the bat must have. Dying, it crawls up to the buddha statue. I kind of moved the rug and the wee thing didn't stir.

In the book on the 6 Dharmas of Naropa there's instructions on how to bring folk back to life. You start on wee animals that have snuffed. I couldn't remember the juju, but I said a mantra and blew some air at it. Left it there. Later, I spoke to Temple Dave. He said bats sometimes got in there. He didn't know how. I asked him about the bat. He said he took it outside and left. Ten minutes later, he went looking for it and it wasn't there. It wasn't eaten by a peacock. You've got to smile. Of course, it was exhausted and recovered enough to get away.

I visualised the people I've had the intrusive, nasty, violent thoughts about and thanked them for helping me on the way to becoming more enlightened. That's a good thing to do. Of course, as I was packing the tent, I found myself imagining their horrorshow ends.

So watch out flatheids! This is the HotboyMadyamika who can surf the oceans bliss. I haven't lost my false sense of self by aeons. Fung with me and one day you'll be walking along the road and your legs will drop off.

Peace be with you. Back to Babylon where, at least, the women will all look gorgeous. Over and out from the best place on this earth, the Samye Ling! HotboyMadyamikaS.O.B.