Politics of the Soul

Posted in Conceptual Art, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 31, 2012 by javedbabar

The figure emerging from the twisted light took shape. Sami said, “Sophie? Is that you? How did you know where to find me?”

“It wasn’t that hard,” she said. “The valley only goes one way – west, and smoke only goes one way – up.”

Sami was hiding in a cabin at the top of the Valley, near Kalash, fifty kilometres from Lucerne. The sudden attention since Guru Baba’s death had been hard for him to handle, and he had decided to hide.

The Valley’s residents had protected him from numerous officials, reporters and stalkers chasing him. It was amazing what some well-placed Firing Range and Blast Area signs could do. There was no longer a need for Sami to dress up in his gorilla suit and chase people through the bush, which also worked. Good job it wasn’t hunting season.

“Would you like some tea? Hang on, I’ll just put the kettle on.” He went into the strange metal cabin; she heard water pouring.

Sophie admired the dark, glinting solar panels affixed to the roof. Sami emerged and joined Sophie on a fallen log, and she asked, “What are you doing out here on your own? People are worried about you.”

“Guru Baba had a lifetime to get used to fame; it was gradual. When he kissed me that day and said, “It is you,” and died, my life changed immediately. I wasn’t ready for it. It seemed that I had no choice, but then I realized I did.”

“Is this your choice then, to stay here, far away from people?”

He reached out and held her hand. “Not all people. Sophie, I’m not sure what my choice is. I can either remain apart from the world, with all its temptations and evil ways, or I can engage with it, and do what little good I can.”

Cottonwoods around them rustled in a burst of wind. Their leaves caused light to dance.

“Who wouldn’t want to stay here?” said Sophie. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful. There’s no pollution, no noise, no crowds, no stress, no expense. Whenever I step out of the door in the village I’ve spent twenty bucks. In the city it’s fifty. Here you are self-sufficient in everything – energy, water, food, and peace is everywhere, not just when you put on your headphones or lock your room.”

They sat in silence, listening to the river gushing, and watched a white mule deer wander on the far shore.

Sami said, “Guru Baba’s last kiss held messages for me, but I may need years to understand them.”

He looked so perturbed; she held his other hand too.

Sami continued, “He told me many things while I was working as his assistant. I didn’t understand them all, but somehow his final kiss brought them together. He said that to build a good society you need good people and dynamic interaction. He said the heart is the body’s strongest generator of electro-magnetism, constantly changing the fields around us. He said that like attracts like, and if we build our ideal selves, we attract, reflect and refract universal matter in powerful ways. He said that psychic self-control is the highest art; to keep your head when all around you others are losing theirs; and he said the psychic realm is both a cosmic ocean and a personal drop.”

Sami’s attention returned to the twisted light running through the valley from Mt Alba, a white sentinel above the village, to Mt Negra, dark guard at its other end. He became quiet.

After a while Sophie said, “Well, there are two drops here. Shall we rejoin the sea together, and be good people building the good society he spoke of?”

Sami continued looking into the twisted light, and said, “Maybe you’re right. You usually are. Guru Baba said that karma is not driven by thoughts but by actions. Give me another week here alone, and then I’ll join you.”

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Twisted Light

Posted in Conceptual Art, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 30, 2012 by javedbabar

There is a strange light in the Lucerne Valley tonight, thought Sami. A twisted light, swirling within and around itself.

It seemed to connect Mt Alba, above the village, with Mt Negra at the valley’s far end, or should he say beginning, for that was the source of lava flows and later, water flows, which over millions of years carved out the Lucerne Valley.

A white cloud gathered around Mt Alba, and a dark cloud around Mt Negra, and they stretched out for a hundred kilometres, twisting around each other like a cosmic candy cane made of marshmallow and licorice.

Maybe such phenomena were usual at this time of year, like the afternoon wind called the Pineapple Express, and the spring and fall floods; all part of nature’s dance.

Since the strange events at the Transparent Temple, Sami felt deluded, denuded and partially destroyed. He was not himself. He couldn’t be. Who was he then?

He needed time – days, weeks, months, who knew? – to accept or reject the situation, to become Guru Baba’s successor or to leave this place for good, but people didn’t give him time.

“Hello, I am an Official from The Authority’s Spiritual Affairs Directorate. We would like to discuss your potential as…”

“Sami, should we now call you Sage Sami? I am reporting for the Holy Herald. Would you please tell our readers about the moment that…”

“Om Shanti, Sami, I come from Guru Baba’s ancestral village with a most humble request. We would be highly pleased if you…”

Right now Sami couldn’t handle his internal dialogue, never mind this external dialogue. He wished everybody would leave him alone. He had jumped at the invitation to use a friend’s cabin at the top of the valley, near Kalash.

The strange light kept glowing and flowing. The cosmic candy cane. At times it looked like a cheerless barber’s pole, or a swirling Slavic bread twist. It also looked like strands of DNA.

Sami’s mind returned to his science class project concerning the nature of light. He had explored light’s basic unit, the photon, and whether its primary nature was that of a particle or a wave. The accepted view was that it was both, and his grade twelve project did not dispute this, but he also looked into two kinds of angular momentum – spin and orbital.

Spin referred to motion like the earth’s spinning around its axis. Orbital referred to motion like the earth’s revolution around the sun. Both could be seen in light.

Sami had asked if these energy forms could be used to transmit information, and discovered that they could. Using MIMO – Multiple Input and Multiple Output – transmission massively boosted data transfer rates. However, his experiments in the school lab were not successful. Instead of twisted light, he had created an optical vortex, where light waves cancelled each other out. That was the opposite of what he wanted to show.

But here, now, before him was the cosmic candy cane, a black and white twist of light, seeming to carry the whole world’s illumination. Was he dancing around it, or was it dancing around him. He watched the twisted light all night, and at dawn, a figure appeared within it and walked towards him.

Was this a trick of the light?

Was this a twist of the light?

Was this a kiss of the light?

Next Kiss

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 29, 2012 by javedbabar

Sami looked around in desperation. What was the best test for knowing if you were dreaming or awake? Asking another person was the best test he could think of, so he asked the man lying in his arms, smiling, staring up at him, dead. “Guru Baba, am I dreaming?”

The smile seemed to broaden, or was he imagining that?

All around him, people stood open-mouthed. There were hundreds of people, maybe thousands. He realized where he was. He was in Lucerne’s Transparent Temple at Guru Baba’s darshan – holy viewing. He recalled the holy man saying he was going to “change into somebody else”. Had he been talking about Sami or himself?

Guru Baba lay in Sami’s arms with his eyes wide open, as if seeing everything, but Sami knew he wasn’t. A minute ago he had kissed Sami on the lips, and said, “It is you,” before falling away.

Sami heard people chattering. He didn’t look up at them, just stared at their shoes.

“He is not dead. He is resting immaterially.”

“The Guru will never die; he lives forever in our hearts.”

“Did he appoint a successor?”

“We must find his reincarnation. What are the signs?”

Sami’s mind could not acknowledge the situation. It was too strange, too much to handle. Guru Baba had said to him, “It is you.”

He thought back to when they had first met, on the New City bus to Lucerne. He had noticed a strange brown man, with long black beard, orange robes and ASICS trainers, and smiled at him, prompting the man to leave his seat and sit next to Sami.

Their sudden intimacy was surprising. The strange brown man had talked non-stop for three hours, and Sami had developed a headache, mainly from laughing. The guy’s main topic was sports shoes.

“I thought that modern life is all running around. I am an Indian holy man, yes, but I am also a modern citizen, so I must also run around. I did research. I tried sneakers in many sports shops. They said to run in them to test them, so I ran twenty-six miles to see if they were suitable for marathons. I tried Reebok, Puma, Fila, New Balance, and ASICS. ASICS were the best ones. I tried Nike too, but they have a bad reputation among spiritual people, you know, since the Heaven’s Gate people wore them and killed themselves. They also name shoes after Irish terrorist groups. They really make killer shoes! And Adidas, with the rubber shackles, made a joke of slavery. I know, all sneakers are made in sweat shops, but what can we do?”

Sami was stunned. How did a seventy year old Indian holy man know so much about sneaker culture?

Guru Baba said, “There are many kinds of sneakers – high tops, low tops, mid cut, sneaker boots, trail shoes, running shoes, basketball shoes, but they all share one quality. They are humble. They cover the lowest part of the body, touching the ground. They take daily pounding, and don’t mind getting dirty as long as they save the feet.”

At the end of the bus journey, when they separated, Baba kissed Sami on the lips. He had had found it creepy and pulled back, but then had a change of heart.

He realized that this kiss, all true kisses, were far deeper and more lasting than any erotic connotation. They showed loyalty, affection, gratitude, compassion, sympathy, joy and sadness, and held the redeeming power to cast off spells. Princesses were changed back from dragons, and Beauty’s Beast into a prince. People kissed the Pope’s ring, the Torah, The Kaaba’s black stone, Krishna’s feet and Buddha’s bones. A reciprocal kiss was a greeting and farewell, and a blown kiss went straight from your heart to heaven.

His meeting Guru Baba was as surprising as his parting. Both sneaked up on him unexpectedly.

He removed the old man’s robe to reveal Road Runner boxer shorts, draped the robe around himself, and called forward the next person to kiss.

Last Kiss

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 28, 2012 by javedbabar

Guru Baba had said he was going to “change into somebody else.” Sami wondered what he meant by it.

Sami had studied economics at university, and worked in financial marketing. He knew about product personalization and brand relaunches. Was it something along those lines? He had seen how banks had changed their mission from “someone who looks after your money and gives you some extra to say thank you,” to, “someone who helps to improve your lifestyle and charges you for it.” The first implied that it was your money and you were in charge, albeit with scary bank managers as guardians. The second had friendly customer services assistants who let you do whatever you wanted, ensuring you were drawn deeper into their embrace, till they had the power to strangle you – not that a parasite generally kills off its host.

Economics is essentially about demand and supply; which was it? Guru Baba didn’t have a demand side issue – hundreds of people came to every gathering; there were four thousand expected in Lucerne’s Transparent Temple today. Maybe it was a supply side issue; that Guru Baba was bored and tired, and wanted to end his mass spiritual activities. That must be it. During a break, Sami asked him whether this was the case.

Guru Baba said, “You will see.”

Having planned many gatherings, Sami was good at crisis management. There had been some hiccups with external queues, internal crowd management, demonic possession of a marshall, and an investigative journalist’s sexual harassment claims, but things were now running smoothly at this one.

Something wasn’t right though, he could sense it…

Sami looked around for fallen objects, sniffed for smoke, listened for shouting or screaming, but there was nothing alarming.

He had a sudden headache, focused between his eyes.

Guru Baba stopped those queuing for darshan – holy viewing – and called Sami over. Sami ran towards him. Something was wrong. What was it?”

“It’s your turn,” said Guru Baba, stood up and held out his arms.

Me? Now? Here? What for? thought Sami.

He shouldn’t refuse. He held out his arms too. Guru Baba grasped his wrists and pulled him forward and kissed him on the lips.

Every kiss he had ever had flew though his heart.

His first kiss with his teddy bear, Fuzzy.

His test kiss with his sister.

His first date with Lisa; their silly kissing in her porch.

Making out with Sandra, then others, in parks.

Kissing games – Truth or Dare, Spin the Bottle, Post Office, and Wink.

His hot desire for Martha.

Intoxicated feelings with Debs.

His infinite happiness with Charlotte.

The courage he felt when kissing Nina.

The maturity, happiness and health kisses brought.

A kiss holds everything and gives everything, when lips and hearts collide.

And now he was kissing an old man with black beard, brown skin and saffron robes. In his head he heard Guru Baba saying, “It is you,” before falling away.

Sami opened his eyes to find Guru Baba staring up at him, smiling in his arms.

Guru Baba wasn’t moving. He was dead.

Lips Kiss

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 27, 2012 by javedbabar

“I am a dealer of the world’s most popular drug,” said Guru Baba, “and it is entirely legal.”

The journalist continued writing. She was very fast indeed. It must be shorthand, thought Sami.

Guru Baba continued, “Many drugs are becoming legal – I know the pharmacy now sells cannabis, and forms of heroin – but none of them can match its power. I deal in the drug of love.”

“Guru Baba, that’s good,” said the journalist. “Any final words?”

“Yes, of course. My customers come in their thousands; they are addicts already or want to become so. They know our world is built on loving relationships, which activate complex brain chemistries whose effects are like cocaine, but they are not toxins, they create long term positive change.”

The journalist looked away for a moment. She was paying attention but there was something on her mind.

Guru Baba continued, “Not just our world, but our whole universe, is built on love. How else to make sense of our tiny lives in the incomprehensible vastness of space? It is said that the universe began with a seed, and will continue to grow forever. As worlds continue to fly from its centre, the essence of our lives must surely be attraction.”

Sami was surprised that Guru Baba had agreed to the interview. In this half hour break during the Great Gathering, it was best if he rested. The journalist hadn’t even booked a slot; she had asked for the interview this morning upon arrival. She had said “Don’t you know who I am?” flashed her press card and walked past the queue.

She said, “Please tell me about the Enhanced Trance Dance. Will we be performing it at today’s event?”

“Yes, of course we will! Why not? People perform it all over the world, every day. Why shouldn’t we do so here!”

“I’m not sure I understand. Is it a well-known dance?”

“Shall I show you?”

“Well, I don’t have the best shoes for dancing, but we can give it a whirl.”

What is he doing? thought Sami. She may not have the right mindset for this. She hasn’t read any of his teachings. Cultural connotations differ. She won’t understand.

Guru Baba stood erect and held out his arms. The journalist realized she was expected to do the same. She held out her hands and he pulled her towards him and kissed her on the lips.

The journalist was shocked. She jerked back her head and pulled away. “What the hell are you doing?”

“The Enhanced Trance Dance. You asked for a demonstration.”

“What! It’s an old man getting his rocks off with a young woman?”

“Not so young,” said Guru Baba.

“Not so young! Are you for real? You grope me and then insult me. And you call yourself a holy man! Shame on you!”

That didn’t go well, thought Sami. A kiss can mean many things; it represents love, passion, affection, respect, greeting, friendship, devotion, and good luck. It involves all five senses – touch of the lips, smell of your perfume, taste of the skin, a smacking sound when joining or pulling way, and seeing whatever you desire with your eyes closed. You are in a trance, enhanced by the dance of love. Hence the name.

Guru Baba had kissed millions of people on the lips. He knew the romantic kiss had evolved from the first and greatest kiss – the maternal kiss. When lips joined with the kiss of life, the powers of the universe activated.

Thousand Names

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 26, 2012 by javedbabar

Guru Baba had said, “This is a very special gathering so please remember the thousand names.”

Sami had spent an hour a day memorizing the names. After a week, he knew them all in order.

It wasn’t as hard as he’d imagined. With a combination of the favourite place/person method – where you imagine persons embodying specific qualities, sitting in spots around your house – acronyms, and rhyming, he was set.

He imagined Marilyn Monroe soaping herself in his shower, Groucho Marx pacing about in his garden shed, Boris Karloff lumbering around his cellar, and Barack Obama mowing his lawn, making the names fun to remember. These attributes of the Divine Creator were now unforgettable. The official list began with:

The Great – The Not So Great – The Funny (Groucho) – The Pretty – The Clever – The Cultured – The Spiritual…

The Great Gathering in Lucerne’s Transparent Temple was progressing well. There had been an issue with external crowd management, then a problem with internal crowd control, but both were resolved. There was a steady flow of people performing darshan – holy viewing – whilst the holy names were chanted continuously by a group on stage, accompanied by banjo, bongos and harmonium.

“There is no point in being too serious,” Guru Baba had said. “People should enjoy singing holy things.”

People who hadn’t memorized the names tapped their feet if they were Westerners, and nodded their heads if they were Easterners. They eventually picked up the names; by the fourth round they could anticipate the next one. Sami was right to not project them on screen, which would have changed the aural dynamic to visual, diluting the names’ holy vibrations. The chanting grew louder:

The Brave – The Scared – The Powerful (Obama) – The Powerless – The Beaten…

Sami saw people he knew – Sophie, Shama, Bobby, Dimpy and others – looking different somehow. Their faces were brighter. Their voices were lighter. Their postures were straighter. Their heads held higher.

Were they absorbing the names?

Joining with the names?

Becoming the names?

Sami had a flashback to the film HUMANITY; he had acted as local project manager for its global launch. It was filled with eye-popping visuals transporting you to ethereal realms, but being at this gathering was the real thing – the cameras, lights and action!

`           The Friendly – The Open – The Loving – The Nervous – The Monster (Boris) – The Murdered – The Killer…

An agitated marshall approached him and said, “All these names. Some of them are pretty fearsome. Do we need to be careful with them?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you,” said Sami. “Can you repeat?”

“Do we need to be careful with these names? They could be dangerous.”

“Let’s go backstage. It will be easier to talk there.”

As soon as they were behind the curtain, Sami grabbed the marshall around the neck and wrestled him to the ground, shouting, “What’s your name? What’s your name? Tell me!”

The marshall struggled and grunted. He tried to break free but failed. He gave up and said, “Astra.”

Sami shouted, “Astra, be gone from here, and never come back!”

The marshall fainted, and a wisp of smoke blew from his nose.

Demons sometimes inhabited humans, filling them with negative energies. You had to be tough with demons. They were always trying to diminish God’s names and never wanted to reveal their own names, because once they were known to you, you could command them to be gone.

The Beautiful (Marilyn) – The Regal – The Legal – The Buyer – The Seller – The Three – The Two – The One.

Bhakti Banquet

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 25, 2012 by javedbabar

“What do you think they are queuing for?” asked one of the marshalls, eying the long line of people that continued around a corner. A good proportion of the five hundred people at Guru Baba’s darshan were in it.

“For food, I think,” said Sami.

“But the food stands are over there, and they are moving in the other direction.”

“So, what are they queuing for?”

The marshall nodded drolly. “They are queuing for food, and they are moving in the other direction. That’s the problem.”

Sami had been busy for the last half hour behind the scenes, fixing security and technical problems, and hadn’t noticed the queue building up. The queues to get in had been well managed, and there was a steady flow of people going in and out of the Transparent Temple, but there was pressure building inside. He went to take a look.

Guru Baba had often said that the right to food was a human right, and people here were taking him literally. There was an unbelievable queue for free Street Snacks, but none at all for the Bhakti Banquet, a set of ten delicacies in a jewel-edged palm leaf, costing a hundred dollars a plate.

Bhakti means love. The money earned from sale of this food of love would subsidize snacks and fund Baba’s charity projects. This notion hadn’t worked though, and the Bhakti Banquet’s servers were lined up, chatting, themselves looking like a queue.

Sami returned to the marshall and said, “This is a disaster. The queue is so long it has wrapped around itself completely. That’s why it seems to be moving in the wrong direction.” He silently joined a mantra for two verses, and continued. “I’m sure that’s why you came to tell me.”

The marshall nodded.

“So what should we do? I wanted to do something special for this event. I thought the two different meals would balance each other, but it looks like we’ll run out of snacks and have hundreds of banquets left over.”

The Bhakti Banquets would all go to waste. The Authority’s health and safety regulations banned distribution to volunteers, poor families and homeless people. The event would be a black hole. It was meant to pay for itself, not suck money out of projects for widows, orphans and disaster relief victims. Food is meant to produce energy, maintain life, and stimulate growth. The Bhakti Banquet was wasting people’s energy, maintaining servers’ boredom, and creating waste. It was anti-food.

The marshall said, “I was helping my son with his homework last week. It was about the history of food. The earliest method to secure it was hunting and gathering, then agriculture, and now most people rely on the food industry. It’s amazing how things have changed. Once everybody was responsible for sourcing their own food, and now people think potatoes grow on trees. How did that happen?”

“That’s it!” said Sami. “Thank you!”

In the same way that darshan affects individuals, slowly changes society, and eventually improves the world, so modern media affect everything too. A commercial conspiracy has been created. Excess war chemicals are sprayed on fields to accelerate food growth. Lotteries boost the economies of modern nations. Everyone is told they will be happier if they buy stuff. Men use cosmetics. Women drink beer. The medium is the message. The medium does the massage. We have no choice but to partake of it.

Sami announced on the intercom, “Anybody buying a Bhakti Banquet will be entered into a draw to win Baba’s robes.”

People broke from the Street Snacks queue and ran to the other side.