They could be Enlightened
 

    I remember Kyle asking me if I wanted to go to a Buddhist monastery somewhere near Carmel in California.  I agreed and we started hitching and walking to Carmel.  We asked directions there in Carmel to a Buddhist monastery somewhere in those hills. We did get a ride to the side road that went into the mountain where the monastery was located. We started walking up the winding road when some Buddhist monks came along in a car. They were just coming back from the city. They knew where we were going because the road only went to the monastery.  They gave us a ride the rest of the way.
    The monastery was set in front of a rock faced cliff.  It looked as if some of the buildings were carved out of the stone, something like Mount Rushmore.  Other wooden buildings were set in the foreground. I think that it had been some kind of resort at one time.
    When we arrived, they let us in, and they said that we would have to beg for everything.  We wandered around, looked into their chapel, and watched as some said their prayers.  They gave us an empty wooden bowl and said we were to beg for something to eat.  I didn't like that, but Kyle was determined.  So, we begged and received brown rice and an orange.  We sat on the ground, making a peaceful ceremony of eating and enjoyed what we got. We watched some men working who were not in Monk robes. They seamed eager to please and were pleasant to talk to. They were digging holes out by the garden. We asked one of the robed monk who they were and what they were doing.  He said that they were the most spiritually enlightened.  After begging and eating, they showed us something that was close to enlightenment for them.
    They walked us to one of the rock buildings and told us to come in.  When we got inside, we felt the warmth of hot water.  We ended up near a deep rectangular pit chiseled from the rock, a hot spring of their very own.  They said we could go in.  We went in, and it was hot, but it was good. We could understand how they could be enlightened.  The water was fine.
    They said that if we were to stay there at the monastery, that we would have to do what they said.  Coming from my background, begging was not about to happen.  I had begged all my life for some understanding, and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel was something new to me, even if it was sometimes purple.  I was not going to dig another tunnel for them to see the light that I was already seeing.
Kyle was ready for the challenge, but I was not.  I refused.  I wanted to do whatever I wanted.  Kyle was upset, but he came back to Morningstar anyway.
+
There ought to be a law against people like me who wake up and look at the day with such
great optimism. This morning was so goddamn nice, it had rained over night and it had
cleaned the air. The sun was shinning on the new green grass, giving me a deep emotional
lift. I felt good about my self and the world surrounding me. It is easy to get self-centered,
when an overwhelming pleasure surrounds your body.
I looked on the map and found the Buddhist Monastery that Kyle and I visited. It is called
Tassajara Buddhist Meditation Center.
http://www.intrex.net/chzg/default.htm

Tassajara Zen Mountain Center

I apparently learned a lot from these folks in one day and did not know it. Thanks Folks.
I am not into any organized form of religious practice. I have picked up pieces of
information from whatever body comes in contact with me. Be it a job, being, sight, book, TV,
news or a wonderful day.
Thanks to Lou
Thanks to
Tassajara Buddhist Meditation Center & Hot Springs
"Carrying water and chopping wood are the activities of the Buddha,"
"The everyday mind is Buddha," are two of the most well known Zen sayings.
***

    I don't know how I met Doris.  I guess I was around and so was she.  Maybe it had something to do with the poison oak all over my body.  She was truthful and told me from the start that she was a wench in training.  To say the least it was difficult with that woman, but it was sometimes very good.  She was always going to the edge.
    We palled around together something like yin and yang.  She had friends in Berkeley we would go see and get turned on with.  I saw a Purple Haze looking out of a Berkeley apartment building with her.  It was awesome.
    Four of us decided to go to a national park -- Doris and I, and Kyle and I think Kathy.  (Someone tell me if I am wrong).
    We had to watch out for the ranger as this park was not for tourists.  Anyway, when we got there, we liked it so much that we decided to stay.  It turned out that food was going to be a problem.  So Kyle and I decided to go to the city to score some food.   The night before we left the girls picked some mushrooms and other wild herbs.  They cooked some brown rice, and I think we had a little miso.  We had a fine dinner at dusk, cleaned up, and climbed into our sleeping bags.  Some time during the night Doris woke me and said that something was wrong.  "Feel my pulse," she said.  I felt her pulse.  It was beating maybe 30 beats per minute.  It was very spookie.  I knew then that she had poisoned herself with the mushrooms, and she agreed.  I said, "Let your pulse be normal."  We both knew that she was going to be alright.  In a few minutes her pulse had returned to normal.
    At dawn Kyle and I left the girls in the mountains, saying that we would be back with some commodities.  To this day I do not know why we did it, but we did. Just to go to town and bring back some food.  Town was San Francisco, not many miles away.  But, it was down the mountain and through the woods.  We got to the city at about noon.   We went to the blood bank.  Kyle gave blood, but they refused me because I had had scarlet fever when I was a young boy.  I did not know what to do.  I needed money quickly.  I decided to call my dad.  Maybe he could wire me some money.  I did, and he sent $20.00, which is what I had asked for.
    It was getting dark, so we decided to wait until morning to pick up our groceries.
    Kyle met some friends of his and they turned us onto some fine acid.  This guy said, "Let's go up to my pad.  You can crash there for the night."  His place was an apartment overlooking the Haight. The Haight was what you think it would look like, Heads and more Heads, colors and a maze of friendliness and activity. In the apartment they told me to sit down, and that they would be right back. It was dark out, the city was aglow, I sat on a cushion with my back to the windows overlooking the Haight.  I was starting to get high, when Kyle came back, he was with a street musician.  This young man opened his case and pulled out his violin.  I was still sitting on the cushion.  He started playing classical music of the sixties, his own.  Kyle had left again.  Well, it was beautiful.  He played for about 10 or 15 minutes.  I had gone to Heaven.  The air was filled with the freedom of the wild beautiful violin music. His hair and body were moving with beautiful exaggerations, flowing and moving with the music. When he was done, he put his violin away and opened the door and left.  He never said a thing to me, his music had spoken to me. I sat there amazed for about five minutes.  We could imagine and just pause and think how beautiful it really was.  We could listen in our minds, we can hear our music of choice, images in our minds of beautiful sounds. I could imagine a siren, like an alarm clock ringing in the background, waking us up, bringing us back to reality, bringing us back to reality.
    Suddenly I heard the police siren.  I got up and went to the window and looked out.  I saw a city police cruiser, with lights flashing, and it was parked outside the window.  (I forgot to say that this was an upstairs apartment).  Trouble, I thought to myself, this is not your place.  I got up, went to the door, and walked out of the room and down the stairs.  I opened the door for the police, politely and with good manners.  The policemen rushed in past me and up the stairs they went.  I never looked back.  I did not know where Kyle was, but I thought maybe he would be in the park.  I  walked around the block wondering what to do, dazed.  I noticed the police cruiser behind me.  I panicked internally, but externally I was calm.  They drove by, giving me a glance.  I never wavered as I headed for the park.  Paranoia Strikes Deep.  I found Kyle in the park and we headed back to the girls.  Almost back to the national park, near its' edge, we met the girls leaving the area.  We headed back to Morningstar.

***
I met Olive Oil on the Haight, just in passing, an introduction, the name was stuck in my brain. There is something about the fish and chips wrapped in a newspaper cone and sharing. And we went our different ways. I saw her name somewhere lately. Asking? I answered, there was no reply.
+
I met a stocky, blonde balding young man, he was standing below the upper house at Morningstar. He may have been talking to Ambo, at this time I had not known Ambo. I asked him how he got to Morningstar. He said that he used to work for one of the free presses in San Francisco. He said that they were leaning towards violence or being more militant. So he said he had to leave.
***
Thanks to Lou
 


    A discussion with Robbie:
    Robbie was tall and handsome, long chocolate brown hair and beard, the face the likeness of Jesus in Christian Churches everywhere. He wore a brown wool blanket as you would imagine.
    Robbie was a city person.  He was always talking about being at some happening, a concert, a Be In, a Love In, you name it,  he was there.  Robbie was like the rest of us.  He would try most of the stuff around, but not everything.  Everyone knew the dangers of speed and heroin.  We were not that way.
    Robbie told me that some friend of his was going to turn him on to some heroin.  I told him that this is a big mistake, that stuff was dangerous.  He agreed with me and said, "Tomas, you're right, but I'm going try it anyway."  I said, "It is your life, be careful."
    After the weekend, I met Robbie again and asked him how it went.  He said it was great.  I said now you know how people get strung out.  Is that it? (Hoping that his curiosity was satisfied.)  He said that if he was offered it again, he would do it in a minute.
Thanks to Lou

***
    The yoga class:
    Pam reminded me of this in an e-mail recently.  Lou, Ramon, and most of the commune were gifted in Yoga class.  I, well, I was not so gifted.  I could never stick my foot up my ass.  I would most likely stick my foot in my mouth.  This was practiced most of time I was out there.  Laurel says that I'm still able to stick my foot in my mouth.
    I understood what we were doing, cleansing our bodies and our souls.  But, I mostly would have to clean my foot.
    Ramon took me to town to meet his special Yoga teacher and friend.  He tried.
Thanks to Lou

***
I am walking in the direction of the lower house. My mind lost in the space before me, daydreaming, I am the being moving forward. I have past Lou's cabin as I come near the fig tree. Joanie comes quickly from the frame tree house to my right, she walks up to me and says,
" Tomas will you marry me?" I am stunned, Joanie and Ramon are together as one,
I say, "Duh?" She says, "Never mind." And walks away.
My mind is dumbfounded, I continue walking toward the lower house.
A moment later I am lost again in my own world of thought.
Thirty years later I know this a clue to something I do not know about.
***
    The day of blue cheer and greed:
    Someone had come back from the city with a plastic sandwich bag full of blue cheer.  As normal, any time someone came to Morningstar, they would be greeted with, "Do you have any cigarettes?"  Most people would give up whatever they had, ending up as poor as the day they wore born.  That is why the population of Morningstar was always growing.
    Does anybody remember this guy who came in with a Mercedes Benz auto and just dropped out? I think we had a meeting and told him to take his car back a couple of days later.  Far out!  Anyway, everyone ran to the person with the blue cheer.  "Wet your index finger" was the instruction, we dip our wet finger into the baggy of blue cheer.  Everyone complied, except for one young fellow who wet his index and middle fingers.  Everyone started on a tour of Morningstar after sitting a spell.  It was early morning and the dew was on the grass.  A perfect morning, and the guides were all ready.  The tour bus was about to leave.  It was splendid, to say the least.  I traveled the path around the fences.  As I came around the back side of the property, I spied a circle of people standing as if viewing Omnimax.  I walked over to them, and they smiled and they turned their heads toward a huge spider web.  The sun was shinning through it.  Rainbows reflected in the dew on each strand.  The colors were intense.  The colors were subtle.  Rainbows reflected in the dew . . . rainbows reflected in the morning dew . . . wet rainbows reflected off the morning dew . . . we were reflected in the dew.


A moment of reflection....
    After a while, I finally came back to the center of Morningstar, which was near the garden near Lou's cabin.  A young man tripped and fell into a ditch that had recently been dug to lay a water or drain line.  He never saw it, as he was elsewhere.  We ran to his aid.  He was flopping about like a fish, moving about in a frenzy, and then later, foaming at the mouth.  It was difficult to grab him.  We finally held him still, but he was still uncontrollable.  The women were remarkable.  They started singing Amazing Grace and mantras over and over again as he moved in our firm grasp.  Then another song, then another, then another.  He listened while his mind swirled.  He listened to the comfort of song, a mother singing to her child, a sister of mercy praying to the wounded soldier.  He was finally soothed, comforted and loved.
    An hour later, finally under control, we turned him loose.  The women had soothed the wild beast, the young man.  He still wandered around stoned for quite a while.  Later that afternoon, someone had seen him walking on the highway stark naked toward town.
    I do not think he was ever the same again.
    I later read his account of the event from either Ramon or Pam.
He is still alive, Thanks to the ladies of Morningstar
Thanks to Lou
***
   I am looking back and remembering the incident above with the blue cheer that came in a baggy.  I see that this was glorified to let people know about Morningstar. I know you know there is more to Morningstar that some mythical acid trip (Slim Acid Trip..). I remember at the time asking someone to call an ambulance. This man needs some medical help, christ he is flopping in a ditch. The first response from the ladies was no. No hold him still, ok, ok we will hold him still. They sang to him, they sang like a mother to a crying child. Women of the world unite. They did. And Slim lived.
    I was young and immature at the time, I was in seventh heaven, I had just seen god in a spider and web and now I see a man trip and fall into a ditch, he immediately went into a frenzy.
    I did not know that the authorities were waiting for just something like this to happen to shut Morningstar down. The women all knew this, because all their men were taken to jail prier to my arrival at Morningstar. This man lived to become a legend. The women protected him to protect Morningstar. They still are very protective about Morningstar in 1998.
    When I arrived at Morningstar most of the men were in hiding. So when Ramon or Pam write about some of the men, I do not know them. I never met them or was in a stupor when I did meet them. They were all new faces.
    After I left Morningstar Laurel and I received letters from Kathy, Ambo and Robbie. All these letters ask me to come home, they never spoke of the harassment by the authorities. They only spoke of love and friendship even though these people were harassed.
Delicate emotions have been stepped on by arrogance.
Wings pulled out like daisy petals.
Halos trimmed.
"Pretend you didn't see me."
Thanks to Lou

***
The state we are in is forced to be in requirement. No matter how we try
to be free, the state (government) forces us to be in line with their
law. We are required by law to uphold the rules. Penalty is a fine,
imprisonment or a trip to a funny farm. Sometimes the removal of said
body to parts unknown works.
This document is a compromise of thought. Maybe by hearing an opinion
the confined world can be free to think of a solution.
badaba tomas
***
    The Elder Statesmen of Smoke:
    John was someone who always had smoke.  Whenever John was there, there would be a following.  You could always find John at the lower house.
    We used John and he used us.  I now cry in shame knowing that if I didn't smoke then maybe John would be alive.  I know this is not true, but somehow I would like to believe it.
    Hey, we used Lou.  He made a statement and stuck to it, and he paid the price.  We had someplace to go.  Was I grateful?  No.  I was just a selfish young man.  Hey, he loved our spirit and youth.  The same can be said about John.  He enjoyed our company and friendship.
    John had to find ways to always have smoke.  I have an inkling that is what killed John.  He told me how he got his smoke.
    John would go to town, buy some looseleaf Lipton tea in a large box, then he would bag it in sandwich bags.  He would go to the Haight and stand around.  When some young, green youngster would come along, he would show them the lid of rolled up tea, wink, and smile.  "Would you like to buy some tea?"  Wink!
    He never lied to them.  Wink!  He just sold them an ounce of tea for $5.00.
Thanks to Lou

***
    Superman was a tall, lanky rail of a man with short hair.  "Uncle Sam" would be a good description of him.
+
I have seen his picture in the Morningstar Scrapbook, he had a lot of hair.
So much for memory.
***
    Who was the man who always played with his knife?  When I first met him, he was always throwing that knife in my direction.  He was testing me in some way, I suppose.
    Did you ever see the sideshow man on the spinning wheel and the other fellow throwing the knife? I felt like the man on the spinning wheel.
    A wiry man, he dressed sharp with his western shirts, bellbottom dungarees, squared-toed leather boots, and a leather hat to match.  He had a place behind the barn.
+
While at Morningstar I had no clothes, bangle or beads.
I had nothing but my bare body.
Hair came out of my head and food went into my mouth.
When I went to town or when the weather was cold I put on clothes to warm our body.
Traveling to town without clothes meant a night in jail in my mind.
Some folks at Morningstar wore leathers, bell-bottoms and jewelry.
They were cowboys, gypsies and swashbucklers that carried money and had food, possessions and vehicles.
My place in life was just being. Style was vain.
Being without possessions was where my head was at.
The books that moved from person to person spoke of being one with the universe.
We did not quite understand what that meant, but we gave up all worldly goods and played the part.
My place in life was just being. Style was vain.
***
Testing
This was not done at Morningstar that I remember, but has happened to since.
Have you ever done something to test for a reaction. Something like putting something in their food. Then telling them later during the meal to test for a reaction. Just to freak them out. I am usually not moved by such treatment, but some beings in this world are not so thick skinned as I.
Some people are sensitive to the mental pain.
Delicate emotions have been stepped on by arrogance.
Wings pulled out like daisy petals.
Halos trimmed.
"Pretend you didn't see me."
Thanks to Lou
 

***
    Was Ambo also Gandolf?  I think so.
***

    Everyone loved to go to the courthouse.  Why, you ask?  Well, when the bailiff yelled, "The court is now in session," we would all make a run for the tall ash cans filled with sand and long butts -- very long butts.  What a life.

***
Young lady in a dream:
I do not remember who she was, I do know who she is. She floated about the barn in white chiffon, like an angel with white florescent dreams. She spoke, said what she did, and no one paid no mind. She was there to observe and that is what she did. She was a mystery, vague. Someone knows who she is, they can copy and paste our dreams into a white mosaic pattern. She has heard my cries of passion. She was above and Doris was below. Like an angel sent from God, quiet, and in the background. Heavenly, chaste, celibate, in white chiffon she walked around quietly, speaking hardly a word, bow and quiver in hand. An Angelic cream complexion and curly blonde hair.
I would always tease her. About what? About sex, Doris and I were ravenous. Her bunk was above Doris's wooden corner bunk in the barn.
I thought I had met her here in Kentucky. Laurel introduced me to a co-worker of hers. I took one look at her and thought, "My God, the Angel of Morningstar." As the years have passed, I learned that this women in Kentucky is not the Angel of Morningstar. She is an Angel here. I have apologized to her for the confusion.
While reading the Digger Archives, I have seen vague references to her by ...... Mystery lady, call so that I may know you. I will introduce you to Laurel and her co-worker. We will chat and talk over e-mail.
+
I know who she is, she has aged gracefully, writes wonderful tales and walks in peace.
+
A big potato bug looks at me. We spoke and I said how I envy you. You are so round and plump, fleshy.
+
When we all speak in unison, fine glitter moves about our being. Some of us sing, some of us speak, some of us write, some of us paint. Some of us labor with love. Some of us learn to speak again. When we all speak together we gather friendship and patterns of thought. Our mosaic is indeed fine. Again we must say that we have aged rather well. Light has brightened the night. I am reading what the angel says.
Like round drops of water, pure and clean, we cleanse and brighten the earth.
+
I am reading more about the enchanting lady as she steps forward among the beautiful people.
Rain drops.
Rain drops from the clouds, raindrops clear and clean, raindrops gather dust as they fall to the earth. We know that each drop is different, just as we know that each one of us is different.
Sparkling clean our earth appears after the rains of last night.
The potato bug rises from the earth, ugly to us, we shiver at the way it looks. We want to walk away, turn our backs and forget that it exists. I have not seen one for over fifty years, I did not want to see one now, but I knew that they were. I looked and found a meaning on line, they were as ugly as I had thought. It has to take its place among the beautiful creatures of earth. I am not to decide about its fate or turn my back when it arrives in my garden.
When angels swirl above our heads in our dreams. We only see them as angelic, not limping with stubbles of beards. Why is that? Who washed the dust and scrubbed the cheeks until they were rosy? Where are the angels that look like demons? In hell? God forbid!!
Our world is truly distorted.
Laurel and I step forward. We walk this earth. Equal in the eyes of lifes mysteries. I step forward arrogant and proud, I guard my peace, I proclaim that peace dwells around this aura of life. I decide to be at peace. I step forward a peaceful creature and speak of beauty.
Thanks to Lou

***

     Life as it was supposed to be at Morningstar:
    Get up in the morning, milk the cow, put the milk into a bucket, put the milk in a glass jar in the creek.  Later that morning, you would separate the cream from the milk.  Set the cream on the porch in a jar.  When it was the right temperature, you put the cream in a butter churn.  A lady in her time would stay away.
    Get up in the morning, go chop the wood for the wood-burning stove.  Get the fire going under a five-gallon bucket of water on the stove.  If the bucket was empty, you would fill it.
    Get up, and grab a bucket of red whole wheat.  Put a small amount of wheat in the grinder.  Crank the wheel as the wheat falls into a bucket.  When you are done, you sift the bran from the flour.  Then, put it in a proper container.  The bran would be our morning mush or the flour would be our morning hot cakes.
    After breakfast, you would go to the woods and get some firewood or logs.  Or, you would go to the garden and tend the vegetables.  Maybe you would stick around and clean up.
    Later you would churn the butter.  If it got too warm, you would go take a shower or swim.  Grab the washtub, the scrub board, a hand full of soap, and wash your clothes.  Our clothes would always be clean, but they were always stained from the salt of the earth.  Gather honey, sow wheat.  Make leather goods, sew and mend.
    At night we could sit by the fire and enjoy the stars.  Later, we could enjoy the love of a loved one.
    It may have been that way before I arrived at Morningstar.  But, too many people had overwhelmed the sisters of mercy and overpowered the powerful men.
Thanks to Lou
***
Delicate emotions have been stepped on by arrogance.
Wings pulled out like daisy petals.
Halos trimmed.
"Pretend you didn't see me."
Whose quote?
**
Sonoma County Shoppers
Someone told me a story at Morningstar that they went into local store, did their shopping  and as they walked by the registry, said, "Pretend you didn't see me."  and walked out with their groceries.

Tomas4
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