Om Ganesha,
Evening Pujas and Prayers
Namaste my chelas all over the world.
I know how much you wait for our Guru Jaya Das’s Letter and I find that I do too.
He is in my heart always.
Every word is a word of devotion.
My deep deep prayer is that all shame and guilt leave the heart of all my children who are gay or straight or anyone in between, and all children of the world no mater how old or young they are.
I wish I can take all of your pain.
I will always try to do so.
I love you all so very much.
Feel my love.
This is my Puja and this is my Prayer
Love Ma Jai Kali Ma Ki Jai
Always at His Feet Of Our Neem Karoli Baba Ki Jai
Namaste my beloved Ma,
It’s dawn on Global Darshan Saturday, I am awakened, not to the sound of the ringing of the bell at Kashi by you the Guru Mother, but to my trusty old bedside alarm clock. I’m not waking up on sacred ground either, but in, Los Angeles U.S.A., “The Big Enchilada”, or to some, Sodom and Gommorah. I would like to think by now I can awake each day with the true fire in my heart of love and compassion, but this day it’s more like heartburn, from a late night binge of Italian food. I still look at my bed at the fast asleep dog, my beloved Phoenix and yes even my Vasu “Cookie”, partner of 25 years and I am grateful for them, and for all the blessing they bring, but with patience and a “pooper scooper”.
My most beloved of all “Rivers” Ganga and Yamuna are out of town visiting Ganga’s aging parents and I’m going through lesbian withdrawal. I do miss them, and my dog misses his pack, their dogs, Sasha and Jack who went on the trip with them. Yes I’ll admit I even miss Yamunas’s bossy ways, cracking her whip in overseeing the food prep, setting up tables, making sandwiches and getting the show on the road. Peter is our relatively new addition, and he’s an acquired taste, a not an all around loveable character, a comedian, a talker with lots of opinions, who ticks people off, but he want’s to help serve, making himself available when no one else can. Sitting in the car driving across town to the Ashram with Peter at my side, I manifest my first lesson for the day, from you Ma. I finally relinquish my judgement, it’s kept me from appreciating my new sidekick, the energy one wastes from judging others. If I find compassion for Peter I discover it for myself. The burden of my judgement is lifted. Now we can get down to the business at hand, eating breakfast.
Swami Bhava Tarini prepares a flotilla of sunny side up, all yolks unbroken, for our early morning breakfast crowd. Kali Baba and Vishna Dev just returned from Connecticut celebrating Vishna Dev’s mom’s eightieth birthday, and the thought hit’s me, what once seemed so ancient, eighty, 80, eight oh, oy vey, ain’t no more than eight years away for me. Then I truly will be a dowager queen, and no one, can take my crown, not Bette Davis, Laxman Das Jaya, or Achariya Swami Shiva. Living in this community, this outpost of Kashi, this house on Huntley Drive, I have found the true queen in me, my true self, and have lost all shame about. It is about time, don’t you think?
I drive down Hollywood Boulevard and made our first stop at the Rite Aide, a force of habit, for Ray. He’s our flute playing guy, who we clothed fully last year, with warm pants and sweats, when he was released from the hospital still with full blown pneumonia, and little to wear. He survived, continued to play this flute, always to greet us with a wink and a smile, becameing one of regulars. Ray died recently. On the little piece of ground he always hung out at, next to his shopping cart, there were flower and a candle burning. Rest in peace Ray.
Thomas our “Outback” man is mayor of his strip center, he’s there all the time, day and night. He playfully wears two hats and sports a dangerously beguiling toothless grin. He introduces us to Hunter, a dog of friend, and since we always are stocked with dog treats we also serve the dogs of our homeless. Thomas is neither an alcoholic or drug addict. He tells me he’s been robbed of all his meager belongings, which happens often on the streets, homeless robbing homeless, for a few meager pennies, mostly for a fix of crack.
We hit Echo Park Lake and spot a homeless man who uses a goose as a guard. Did you know they are good guards? that they can be ferocious? A bearded hungry looking face smiles broadly as we approach, “how about lunch? we ask, he opens the packed bag of food, smiles even more, “sure looks better than what I had yesterday, god bless you guys”. Serving just this little piece of humanity, taking care of others, my god, how much we keep learning to appreciate our lives and our blessings. A tall string bean of a man, who surely looks like he hasn’t eaten in days, thanks us for the food, and he walks away I notice a copy of the Wall St. Journal, with the stock quote page, sticking out of his back pocket. It’s Hollywood, easy come, easy go.
Rolando, who lives in back of the dumpster, in a parking lot, across from the park, has managed to get a cot squeezed into his miniscule space. He’s from Cuba, and as we talk, in Spanglish, I realize I visited Cuba, way back B.C. (before Castro) when he was a baby, and we share a laugh. Yes Ma that was me dancing with the “senoritas” and gambling, living it up, playing a straight man, leading a double life like so many gay men did in the fifties. I did invent the closet, did you know that? and leaned to stuff my feelings toward other men. It was the time of Joe McCarthy and the witch hunt for gays in government, that scared so many of us, the time being gay was considered a sickness, a paranoia, and they tried to cure you or commit you. With me, they failed on both counts.
It’s been weeks since we last saw our very dear Irma and Louie, who have been robbed, arrested, burnt out, shoved around and always kept their spiritual strength, taught me about gratitude. How I wanted you to meet them Ma, and now we are so saddened, never quite giving up hope we would find them. I miss Louie’s hugs, and the happy Irma, who greeted us like kin, which of course they are.
An afternoon drive back to the Ashram, the city is humming, the Santa Ana’s, the hot desert winds make it feel like summer, it’s warmer than Florida, everything is festive, the affluent lunch crowd spilling into the streets of all the outdoor restaurants. No one is going hungry in the more fashionable west side.
The faithful gather in the afternoon to hear Global Darshan, I’m thirsty for you Ma, I kneel at your fountain, to drink, to replenish myself with your abiding love and faith. You have taught me to overcome procrastination, face my fears, be proud of my gayness, and above all, serve from my heart of hearts. We still gather around the now friendly frisbee frog of a telephone, to hear the sounds of your initial squeals of delight with the children of Kashi, it warms my heart to hear your joy, and at moment I too am one of your kids, sitting on your lap, waiting for my lollipop. Your meditation is powerful, it sweeps over the room, and envelops us all. Once again I find myself in the ritual of surrendering to the Paramaguru in the path of service, joy and love and begin to know who it is that I am, choosing never to walk in darkness, just lost in the intoxication of the Mother.
P.S. On Sunday I visited with our Sita Jenny (aka LIsa Taylor) at USC Hospital, who survived the awesome operation that will eventually transform her from a 400+ pound burdened woman to a sexy woman, who can live something akin to a normal life. She speaks of seeing you Ma, in the room where she was being operated on, showing her the options of life or death. With your love and blessing she choose to live. She would probably love to hear from many chelas out there, those who know or don’t know her. She can be reached at USC University Hospital, 1500 San Pablo Street, Los Angeles, Ca. 90033 addressed to Lisa Taylor. Driving home of all thing I saw Louie and Irma ona patch of grass and greeted them, and they with me, with all the joy and love we felt. “You are my brother” Louie said, and Irma and I kept hugging. “We hanging in there baby”. They too teach me about love and courage. My heart is full. There no greater happiness than to live in the arms of the mother.
Love, love, and more love, Guru Jaya Das
P.S.S. Of all things