Ki Earth Journey: 28. More on the Path to Paradise

Dear friends and family -

Thai girl

I just said, “How are you today. I’m hungry,” to the waiter, in Thai. Living my life is one fascinating experience. I get up every morning and contemplate how am I going to play my day. I shower and shave and check my email like everyone else--then I decide which one of my dreams I’m going to expand today. I don’t have to . . . I can ride around town on my bike, linger at a cafe, visit friends . . . or I can take the next step in making one of my dreams a reality. We say “same, same” here, but I certainly don’t want to live a same, same life--I’m not a same-same kind of guy. It’s not that I get bored easily . . . I just like big projects--big dreams. “To dream the impossible dream.” For instance, I could have written a short story or two, but instead I spent two years and seven drafts writing my novel. I dream of it being a best seller. Here in Chiang Mai I could buy all my vegetables very inexpensively at the market, instead I spend hours every day digging and hauling and landscaping a work-of-art garden area. My involvement with BioLumina has so much to do with my life-long dream of helping to end world hunger--I have found a food that I want to share with the world. And all the while I have to keep asking myself. “Are you having fun?"

My garden beginnings. It was once all weeds and mounds
of dirt. I will put an oval wall at the end of this path,
and a Ganesha statue - lots of plants and flowers -
organic vegatables in the cylinders.

"Are you doing what you think you’re here on earth to do?”

Yes. I am having fun and doing what I love doing/what I’m here to do.

All of it weaves together--and the trick is connecting what I’ll call the “destiny dots.” (as opposed to similar looking black holes) My #1 destiny dot is my novel, Shambala - The Path to Paradise. It’s an allegorical journey from the third dimension into the fifth, an invitation we’re all now receiving; my novel being an elaborate 500 page offering. In order to be genuine (as a novelist), I’ve pushed myself to experience what I write about. To create convincing dialog, I’ve had to be all the characters, men and women of all ages and temperaments; I’ve had to become the voice of two immortal masters, and move to Asia in order to experience the Eastern cultures. One day, when I can do it with ease and grace (like the characters in my novel) I will follow the geographically real “Path to Paradise”: from Portland, Oregon, to Japan, Burma, Nepal and Tibet--to two of the most sacred mountains in the world: Mt. Kailash and Khawa Karpo.

Khawa Karpo - in Tibet north of Burma

I live in trust. I have no clue how my living story will unfold. My intention from now on is to continue on the path to paradise--avoiding the pitfalls and seductions that lead back into fear (the black hole dot). Maybe my novel will be a best seller or maybe not. I don’t know. As I said, I will dream the impossible dream and imagine millions of people, or more, following me on the path to paradise; on their own path, to their own paradise. Why not? It’s fun to live one’s imagination, and blur the line between fiction and non-fiction: to live that impossible dream. It’s also fun to share--share my stories, share my secrets to good health at 65; to share my love the best way I know how.

In my novel the main character, Robert St. Clair, tells his friends about the thirty years when he lived in the “mythical” valley of Shambala, from age five to thirty five. Before he left Shambala he wrote a book titled Many Gods, One Heart. I suppose I will have to write that book too--taken from my lifetime of short stories and inspirational poetry. The young Robert writes about a Tibetan village man named Shamar. Here is one of his stories.

Shamar

Westlake - downtown Seattle statues

Shamar went through a brief period of depression. A downward spiraling series of events proved that his whole life in general actually didn’t work, had never really worked, and never would work, as long as he continued on as he always had. The problem was, even though he meditated twice a day, he had forgotten who he was. Finally his teacher told him that all his trying and subsequent frustration had to do with living a “not self” life, that this had everything to do with always charging ahead without consideration, and had very little to do with waiting to respond to invitations.

Shamar didn’t understand.

Teacher told him that in order to live a life of any value or feelings of self-respect, self-esteem and self-worth, he had to change–change in a big way--he had to metamorphosis himself. He simply had to.

Water buffalo reference
redeemed

Shamar had no idea how to change his life, so he went back to his teacher. “You are like a water buffalo who gets up every morning to drag his plow through a muddy field, only nobody ever bothers to plant the seeds. What good does it do for you to get up every morning to plow only to plow? Sitting in meditation is easy for you, but being a bountiful harvest is a whole different thing.” That is what Teacher said.

A bountiful harvest? A water buffalo stuck in the mud? Teacher once said that Shamar was like the mouse who thought it was trapped in a lion's den. Then he said he was a fish in a fish bowl on the bottom of the ocean. And a caterpillar trying to fly before it realized that it really was a butterfly. Shamar did not understand these analogies. Why would Teacher say Shamar was all these things that he wasn’t? Was this what Teacher meant by saying he was living a “not self” life?

Shamar wondered--if he was not a bountiful harvest or a water buffalo or a mouse or a fish or a butterfly, then who was he?

The thought of having to change from all these creatures who he wasn’t, to who he was supposed to be . . . well, whatever the point of the lesson was, it confused Shamar.

But Teacher was never wrong. His words were well chosen.

Aware of this, Shamar didn’t know what to do. He just thought about it, and as he did the weeks went by. Every day he thought about water buffalos, mice, fish in bowls, and butterflies. He thought about the endless ocean and fields filled with vegetables and flowers. He thought of flying up into the blue sky so high that he could touch the moon, but mostly he thought about being who he was, and what that meant being who he was. Shamar decided to allow his life to unfold in a natural way, and allow the real Shamar to show up . . .

The days went by and Shamar realized that he was no longer depressed. He seemed to be spiraling up instead of down. He was more happy than sad. More content than confused.

Picture I took in Laos

When his metamorphosis came, it took him by surprise. He was sitting on the porch of the temple waiting for his teacher, who never showed. He sat there for over an hour before he wondered if he even needed Teacher that day.

Why do I need a teacher to teach me how to be happy, when I already am? Shamar thought to himself.

So what if I'm a silly water buffalo plowing the field every day, making the soil better for growing a bountiful harvest, or a mouse who meditates under the feet of a ferocious lion, or a fish who is content in his little home in the bottom of the ocean, or even a caterpillar who patiently waits for his beautiful butterfly wings to form. What is wrong with me being me, Shamar? Doesn’t Teacher always say that I am that, too? I am a good man. A loving man. I help people and I am always there when I’m needed. I like being Shamar. He sat up straighter and smiled, then felt a shift, a little flickering in his heart. He closed his eyes, sat in the lotus and opened the palms of his hands.

He wasn't quite sure if he was only imagining, but he felt wings growing out of his back. Then he began flying over the rooftops of the village--a beautiful butterfly who dropped seeds on the field the water buffalo had perfectly plowed. All the plants instantly grew and blossomed with ripe fruit and flowers. He was then the mouse who scampered under the lion's legs and out of the cage, squealing in delight of freedom. Then he was the little fish who swam out of the jar and joined his family of other fish, now free to swim in the great ocean.