the left hand path

the left hand path*

 

my wife seems to think

that if she lets me go off

completely on my own

i'd most likely go feral,

 

me lost down along the river,

in my storefront studio,

not bathing, sometimes,

for week or more,

 

letting the dishes pile up,

rarely brooming,

never vacuming,

a fair share of spiders

reaching from the corners

of the ceiling

out to wherever

their imaginations can ponder.

 

++++++++

 

the "left hand path"* is difficult

for strangers to fathom.

from the outside it looks like

a series of random mistakes,

swirling in no particular order,

tasty yet confusing.

 

from the inside tho it's

both better and worse,

stacks of minutes,

hours, days,

thrown on the studio floor

in no particular way,

in no particular order,

rising when the sun rises,

setting when the moon sets.

 

dougie sez:

 

no need to soar above the warp and woof here,

no need to sit alone and challenge the heavens.

 

there is a point at which

all this comes together,

a point at which the gardens

release their fragrances,

a point at which we are lost

and alone in the beauty.

 

this is all about the light inside the light.

 

please take note.

 

*vāmācāra is a sanskrit term meaning "left-handed attainment" and is synonymous with left-hand path or left-path (sanskrit: vāmamārga). it is used to describe a particular mode of worship or spiritual practice (sanskrit: sadhana) that is not only heterodox (sanskrit: nāstika) to standard vedic injunction, but extreme in comparison to prevailing cultural norms. these practices are often generally considered to be tantric in orientation.

 

2 Janis Stories I Think Happened Maybe

1)

1967. i'm twenty years old and living in san francisco. It's sunday and the "summer of love" and i'm a wandering hippie. my buddy says that we should walk over to golden gate park to "hippie hill", the spot where all the hippies would hang out and smoke dope and play in the sun. we get there and the grateful dead are playing a free concert. so we get stoned and stick around. then, garcia sez: "janis, janis, come on up on stage and sing with us!" so janis joplin gets up on stage and sings a song or two with the dead that day. at least i think that happened…

2)

It’s 1968 and it’s a cold and rainy san francisco winter night. a friend has a party for us to go to. we get there and go into a bedroom to put our coats on the bed. i snoop around, cause I’m from minnesota and we’re snoopers. i notice that all the photos have janis Joplin in them - janis and various other folks, some of who look like family. then, it dawns on me, “I’m in janis joplin’s bedroom”. I stay at the party til 3 or 4 am. janis never shows up. (© Douglas Padilla)

"Monday Night Football"

watching the vikes get shellacked by chicago,
favre knocked out in the second period,
probably his last game –
he had a good long run.

at the same time
reading some of the Beats,
corso, lew welch, whalen, snyder,
even a little kerouac,
especially during the commercials.

welch, especially, is a revelation.
god i loved him in the sixties.
he's no less wonderful now,
tho i myself am in my sixties.

"Sausalito Trash Prayer"
"Song of the Turkey Buzzard"
" [The Image as in a Hexagram]"
"[The Empress Herself Served Tea to Su Tung-po,]" -
all big faves, all still delightful.

but it is "[I Saw Myself]" that is the masterpiece.
"ring of bone" - how many of us
will have that exact golden moment?
how many of us will continue to long for that one small event
that stretches out throughout the rest of our lives
and into eternity?

its the 4th quarter now.
favre is still out, the rookie joe webb is in the game.
we look kinda hopeless – even the defense seems lost.
when the bears win it guarantees them the division title
and makes the packers' dilemma that much harder,
thank god.

tomorrow i will wake up around 6,
eat, check my email, meditate.
then i'll go out into the cold winter wind
and shovel snow under the deep, bright blue sky.

and i will be quite happy.

may all beings know peace.
may all beings find awakening.

december 10, 2010

 

© douglas padilla