On Your Own. Those words meant so much to me once. Now they are some tomfoolery, an excuse to not help you in a time of need. When my mom died in 2007 an older brother said, “this is really your first time on your own, isn’t it?” Yes, I agreed it was. But now that all of mom’s money has run out I am learning another side of on your own. It means your debts are your own, your bills are your own, your sadness is your own.
On your own. In the minds of many teenagers that means when you get to meet your girlfriend or boyfriend privately and not have to say hello to mom and dad. It meant you could drink and do whatever you wanted. Of course teenagers don’t think much about working. On your own means getting a job yourself and paying the rent yourself and staying at home because you have no money yourself.
I suppose it is something young adults look forward to. That day when they graduate from the University and go looking for work in their field of study. Well, what happens when they can’t find that work. Well, “they are on their own.” Being on your own is in many ways like looking after your own good health, taking vitamins and watching the calories. If you are fired from work or something you need prescriptions to get your life back together again, get you healthy.
I’m on my own. I was with my parents once and it was not so bad but when my mom died I could see I would have to manage the money. It was a kind of fun thing to do but I didn’t have lots of friends nor was I married. It got too busy for me. It’s good to have friend around who will tell you, “this is too much,” or “you ought to try that.” It’s great to have a friend or a wife give you a pat on the back when you’ve done something good. It’s good to put your heads together. Some people seem to think being on your own is being alone. That’s the worst kind of being on your own. You want to be on your own with your peers and your contemporaries, not by yourself.
Okay, I admit it, I was wrong. About what? I don’t know. Would it be getting
all David Bowie in the 70’s. Or was it Allen Ginnsberg? David said he was bi
but everyone called him gay, like Allen. Allen had no trouble with it. He was
gay and proud of it. Saw Allen speak in Gainesville a couple of times and I
almost took a class with him in Boulder, CO. What did I know about financial
aid? I would have needed it to go to Naropa Institute and take Allen’s class.
So, that was wrong. I shouldn’t have been there. I should have been washing
dishes, doing the hard work to support myself. Better yet, I should have been
in the armed services. That’s what my dad did. He was in the American Cavalry.
Sometimes he used to claim he had been in the Civil War. He served one year
in the Cavalry and then started to work for the Pennsylvania Railroad as a car
washer. He worked himself up to yard foreman eventually. He worked at the
same yard for 40 years, retired in 1969. So, he got himself a job just before the
Great Depression hit. I guess he was lucky to hang on to it through the 30’s and
the War. It was during the War that he met my mom, a divorcee with 2 children.
Dad always claimed he only got as far as the 8th grade in school. The Governor
of Florida says his dad only got through the 6th grade and look at him, a multi-
So, the ego can’t admit it was wrong. I would like to get rid of the ego. They call
that liberation. They say it is a supremely blissful experience. So, where am I
wrong? So long as I think I am right about things, clearly I have the ego, don’t
I? So, where am I wrong? Everywhere I turn to say I am wrong someone seizes
up on the thing and scream YES! YES! YOU WERE WRONG! STUPID YOU!
HAHA. I KNEW YOU WERE WRONG ALL ALONG! THEN LIKE LITTLE
CHILDREN THEY JUMP UP AND DOWN REVELING IN MY ADMISSION.
I don’t particularly appreciate that. You know?
At the end of hte Guru Gita, verse #182 it
vande mahabhaya-haram gururaja-mantram.
I bow to the Gururaja mantra (the Guru Gita), which removes the great fear (of transmigration). It is the only mantra that rescues one from the ocean of the world. It is the perfected mantra worshipped by sages and gods, such as Brahma and others. It is the mantra that puts an end to privations, miseries, and the disease of mundane existence.
I have often read in the Krsna books, books published by the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust that Krsna is the only way, that is the best way, a way beyond the Impresonalists and Buddhists, that it was beyond nirvana, full of more power and joy than any other path and now I see this at the end of my Siddha Yoga’s Guru Gita. I have been paying more attention these days.
The 182 verse Guru Gita is sung every day in Siddha Yoga Ashrams early in the morning, at 6:00 a.m. It is sung on Sunday morning at 9:00 a.m in Gainesville, Florida at the Gainesville Siddha Meditation Center. I have been there often and I try to repeat , that is read aloud, the Guru Gita as often as I can, as well as other hymns from the Siddha Yoga publication, The Nectar of Chanting.
Eddie Bryan Gratitude. I am watching a tape I made of an videoseries I subscribed to. The experience of this tape is something to be grateful for. I have also had an experience with Tara that is very nice. I was able to give my landlord $100, 1/5 of the rent. I am getting my van running again, just need a funnel for gas. I have lost a lot of weight which is good since my doctors have wanted me to lose weight for many years now. I pray, someoone will send me money. Just drop it off in my mail box or under the door. Is that silly? Unrealistic? An old friend I called and he gave me the $100. He has Parkinsons. He is a natural living authority and has written a book, http://www.crawfordsolomon.com. Hope you don’t take that to be advertising. He is a fine fellow whom I have known since the 70’s though we have gone are separate paths. I am grateful for having all the things I have, pictures of Gurus, statues, books enlightening me on who I really am, what is really going on. I am grateful for tolerance for my path, nobody is trying to hang me because I meditate and chant or believe in such things. The friend giving me money was so astonishing. But … you know, but…§ that’s the end of my comment at Ram’s page. I will go further now.
I am grateful for more than that. I am grateful for the ride home from Gainesville, 34 miles away by a long white haired Marine Veteran of Vietnam War. He told me how he fought with his dad. “We got along about as well as oil and water” is what he said to me. I was talking about not being able to get my brother to give me money for the rent, electric and so forth. It’s like he doesn’t think I can get a job and he’s willing to see me go to hell with that, become homeless. This fellow, named Barry, with long white hair, smoking a cigarette, a menthol, picked me up in one of those new pick up trucks or was it like r soemthing. It was so late when he stopped. I was afraid I was not going to get a ride. It is so rare for one to hitchhike these days. It seemed to me in Gainesville a lot was done to prevent hitchhiking. They have double laned a lot of roads that were single laned with big parking areas near the curb leaving little room to get out and put your thumb out there. I walked while I was in Gainesville. I got a ride into 43rd st. and 39th ave. I got out and walked north to the Campus CU, Campus USA is the common term for it. I had to walk from there to the Oaks Mall. I suppose only local readers will know of any of these places. I was repeating my mantra all the way. I had some food stamps to get a libation here and there. I bought some Green Tea with Honey and Ginseng at Walgreens on 43rd. Did you know Food Stamps won’t pay for the sports drinks that have become popular. The tea was good. I was carrying a laptop with me. My Dell Inspiron 1420. It was great to be out on the road. There is a great spirit out there but don’t get me wrong, it is demanding on a 58 year old, diabetic who is slightly overweight at 220 lbs. I had to hitch though since my van was not operable at the time and I had a $100 check I needed to cash, made out only to Eddie. There was a $5 fee to cash the check unless we had a debit card with Campus and I did, so I was able to get cash from the ATM outside. I worried about carrying cash but went with the flow. With the price of things these days, $100.00 isn’t really so much though a great gift from a friend. Friends are not so much required to help you out as like family is. It is this truth that leaves me dumbfounded when family tell me “sorry Charlie,” or “no way Jose.” No way Jose is something I have heard Gurumayi say. She used it in reference to the ego, I think. It’s hard to recall. I’m watching her now. She is speaking of the Buddhi, the higher mind, the greater intellect
What a day last Friday was. That’s when I took to the road. I am still very greatful for getting back home with the money and with my newly repaired glasses. That was another event. I had to go from the Millhopper area to the Oaks Mall. WHAT A WALK. No I didn’t hitch, like I said, Gainesville has done quite a lot to keep you from hitching and use the public transportation. I hadn’t any money at all and had never prepared to be a bus rider. I will be looking into that now. I think there are passes for buses available to the poorer citizens. I think students too get a lower priced bus pass. I will look into it.
Thank you very much for reading.
Crawford Solomon – Heaven On Earth
Wow! Look at the Connollys car! A Cadillac.
The difference between this place and Facebook is you get to keep your posts. What ever happens to all those things we say on Facebook? The links, the deep thoughts?
Oh, well, it’s gone. It is interesting to see the old things we said here on WordPress. I saw a post I wrote right after my mom’s passing in 2007. I seemed to be more interested in a photo I found than in mom’s dying. Well, I was pretty alone back then. No rush of relatives for me. Old folks are expected to die it seems. Oh, finally they are dead and we can go to the funeral. Isn’t that it? Or is that a good time to write, after someone dies? Share a nice thought.
I let them spend all their money on flowers. They wanted a noble cause to give it to like the ASPCA. Nah, I wanted flowers. I didn’t know how expensive flowers were actually. I was the big know it all. I deserved it, whatever I got.
I’m like that chick showing it all downtown on Saturday and gets raped. Deserved it.
This was in response to an Open Salon article entitled Keep Breathing.
Oh, God you reminded me of my mother and “therapy.” She had a stroke and I was told there was no hope of recovery but still there was a Therapy Hospital. Apparently she had to qualify to go there.
I’m getting so sad just writing this. It was in 2006, December and 2007, January.
I wish I had been like you, so sure of yourself and knowing what to do. I am thankful mom didn’t have Alzheimers. They think she had Dementia but I don’t know. It was a rare occassion that mom spoke to friends who weren’t there.
Anyway, mom died. I never got her back home where she wanted to go. I botched the whole thing. I was uncomfortable and among relatives I didn’t count as my closest and they were not y oung, they were nearly mom’s age.
Oh, just thinking about it makes me so blue, but maybe there is something to learn from it. Don’t let yourself be caught all alone in this world. Mom never wanted to live in a home and I’m glad I didn’t come to that but I did press her too far in going through therapy. There was another “advanced” therapy that I made her go to because, well, I wasn’t sure I could deal with her being at home.
The “advanced” therapy didn’t turn out to be anything more than waiting for her to die. She did that in just 4 days.
I think it was against insurance policy for anybody to actually tell me “take her home.” Nobody would and nobody would go so far as to tell me they would be by my side in doing that. Nobody had a personal phone number for me to call to assure me. I can only believe it isn’t policy to help the dying and their family or those known as the unrecovering and their family. I heard her compared to that woman down in Florida who was being kept alive by feeding tube, but I think mom could actually communicate, but it was only in whispers. Didn’t they get that? Was everything up to me? Why were they getting paid? I guess it was because they were so insurance savvy.
Ah, and there was nary a person my age who was there to help. What a wound. Will it ever heal?