The First Intensive, The House of the Lord
I remember when I met Gurumayi, a woman named Kathleen took me up to in front of the DARSHAN line and she told me to speak to Gurumayi, introduce myself and I gave her my name and address. Oh, my God. Can you believe that? I was wearing this gray pinstriped suit, that I didn’t at all like but I bought taking advantage of my mother and the event of my father’s death. Oh, a funeral, good time to buy some new clothes. [The same thing occurred when my much dearer mother passed into the astral worlds. Suit and shoes. This time black.]
So, the odd thing about this, this recounting my name and address, and it just only now came to me, was there was a phone call before my first intensive to my local center. The sevite who spoke to us wanted everyone to speak, have a word with them and a comment on the theme of the intensive, which as I remember had something to do with that great verse from the 23rd Psalm, I Shall Dwell in the House of the Lord Forever. I recall saying that I had been living with my father and mother for many years due to unemployment and suspension from the University of Florida on scholastic merits and that I was actually quite weary of it. I said or suggested something like that in the phone call.
Now the house is gone. It’s sold to pay the credit cards and I’m living in a little apartment in another town, nearby, but not as quiet. I’m right on its main street and it’s a little busier than the fishing town I lived in before. I say it’s a fishing town because I lived right on a lake there. I did a lot of tapas there. How so, you ask. Well, chanting, not drinking and smoking, eating vegetarian, being obedient to my mother and father. Obedience to mom wasn’t that hard, but that old man was a different thing. I used to be his remote control. Turn that damn shit oft, he used to say.