This is mom with her relatively new 1995 Buick.
She gave it to me later on, the sweetheart, and I put all kinds of funky bumper stickers on the back of it, like BiPhobia makes me Blue, and Save Tibet, and Hillary for President.
I’ve lost that damn japa mala AGAIN!
Ted, the pastor at mom’s last church and mom in the picture above. He gave mom her last prayer.
I went up to the grave today and planted some of those hearts from the lovely bookmarks that came with the funeral.
All the flowers had been removed and the grave had been raked. I guess there are people who take care of the cemetary who do that. The flowers had all died and wilted. I know because I took a lot of them that were down there and brought them up to the house. If I had known there were people cleaning up around there I might not have taken those flowers. They were getting blown down by the wind and I thought it was a pity such pretty flowers were being knocked down that way. If I had known someone would prop the flowers back up I would have left them there.
More good news. The Railroad Retirement Board will pay for mom’s funeral. At least it appears to be so. I need to call them and then send them a death certificate.
Got some bad feedback from an acquaintance in Siddha Yoga. I had told her about a pain in my dick. It had been itching and giving me other problems during sex. I feel like she discussed it with the dinner buddies at the Siddha Meditation Center and got the word that a man talking about his dick to a woman is quite inappropriate. Not only did I send her that letter but I had sent the letter to another person and I sent his response to her. He owned a health food store and knew quite a bit about supplements and other things. He advised a probiotic called Olive Leaf.
Yeah, but that’s the state of relationships these days. Not a friend in the world has dropped by or called to talk to me or help me out regarding the death of my mom. I was thinking those solid relationships from yesteryear would suddenly appear, an old girl friend perhaps, a fellow who played basketball with me, a pot smoker or a rock fan. No, nobody! The closest I have come is Maharaji and his knowledge. He had a nice video. Oh, boy are the Krsna Devotees all in a tither. The HATE him, though the Gita advises to remanin the same in victory and defeat. And I think HATE itself is violence and the Bhagavad-Gita as we all know, teaches non-violence.
Yeah maybe my little Siddha sister has read e-mails from me or seen my blog, of which I always send links, has read about my interest in Adidam. All in the Center will deny any problem with that, but none will discuss the teachings of Adidam. Hell they don’t even talk about books they read. That comes too close to becoming a REAL FRIEND!
That’s one of the things said in the Maharaji video that Mraji was talking to people about those things, about life, about peace, the things they had studied. One fellow mentioned Maulavi, Kabir and Nanak. It would be nice to hear someone speak about those things instead of it’s not nice to talk about your dick that hurts.
I was reading in The Triadic Heart of Shiva a book available through Siddha Yoga, by Paul Mueller-Ortega about the yogi bringing the body to a deathless state. I read that just a few days before my mom had her stroke. I read it while I was getting my car serviced. The guy who serviced my car was having a problem with his dogs. It seemed when he acquired a fourth dog it died. He had tried a fourth dog previously and the dog had died then, too. It just seemed to be happening.
Yeah, I have written to my Siddha pal about mom’s death. I thought she was an intelligent woman with an open heart, but when I am told I can’t mention a pain in my dick, my penis, that really blows my mind. Did she want to hear more about death? Is that the kind of thing that is more appropriate to write to a friend. Yes, yes, please go on more about death. Tell me what you saw in the hospitals, tell me the gory details.
I had told her some awful things about mom’s last day but I thought I was speaking to a mature human being.