LITTLE BATTLES

Friends have expressed fear about the drug scene...

None of this affects our magical, calm daily life in the village and at the beach, and among our friends both local and from abroad.

Our mornings begin with butterflies, hummingbirds. Over coffee, we watch the hummingbirds war over the sweet blossoms of the male papaya tree. This morning there were three, and the sound they make is exactly the sound that the warring spaceships use in the Starwars movies. I bet that is where the MOVIE sound did come from. These guys zoom all over the sky above our yard.

At any time during the day, our porch may suddenly fill with the laughter and creativity of village kids... Their new passion is crayon'painting the xeroxed mandalas and wild animals which I provide. Many shaped building blocks, train tracks etc are also very popular.

At other times, loved neighbors drop by, often for breakfast. Our American style oatmeal with raisins and figs, plus coffee, is very popular. In return, we are invited to fresh'caught fish (tuna this morning), salad fixings, and hot made-on-the-spot blue corn tortillas. What we love to do is laugh together.

Too, Robert and I often hop on our bikes and zip down the dirt road, through the coco groves and all, to look at the waves on the beach (from our side of the river, which is only, um, ankle deep this time). We can forget to leave, too. SO beautiful and peaceful.

Yesterday, we saw a cock fight but not with chickens. It was seabirds, right there on the edge of the sea! And after all their posturing, and wing spreading and prancing, they took the battle to the air and duked it out up there! The winner, by mutual agreement, got to have the stony low'tide area rife with little fishies. The loser did not fare all that badly either. He just had to move to down to the river mouth a ways.

Oh, Robert just walked in. End of town trip.

Time Out....

I have maybe three minutes.

Update on drugs: the word on the street is more cinematic than the word in the English language newspaper published in Mexico City. Makes a better movie.

Update on the waves: Robert is having a great time and even tried out his vintage 1960 vintage Jacobs 9.0 board out there. Guess who f*ed with him, stealing his waves with a sly grin.

Update on boogieboarders: I am still swimming laps.

Gotta run! Next week I fly to San Francisco for a week.. combination Thanksgiving and Family Reunion and Celebration of our Parents' 100th birthdays (Note: they have passed on, however, thus it is their fine and loved memory that we celebrate.

Then I fly back here to pack up, and drive with Robert to see the wonderful Monarch butterflies in their winter digs... again. Scroll down and view a sampling of our photos. Wish I could post the videos.

Gone... with the wind......

SNAPSHOTS & VIDEOS

Well, verbal ones, that is. Can´t upload from here.

(But first: there are very fine waves for surfers, just not huge. You can "wear yourself out" as one guy said. Nothing for boogiers since the very first day, however. So, I swim laps.....
and Second: just after I wrote the previous entry, I saw folks with their wheelbarrows back in action AND my first burro sighting in our village.... he was from the neighboring village, however. All is not changed forever.)

1. iPOD: BROOKS & DUNN ("video")
Shoulda seen us! The village was dark and quiet the other night, but our porch was bopping. We hooked up the iPod to speakers (only loud enough for us), and just the two of us--we rocked out to the country sounds of whining guitars, close harmonies, and sappy lyrics.

2. MANDALAS ("photo")
After weeks of coloring between the lines on xeroxes of simplified mandalas that I supply, the local village kids took the chalk to the walk (meaning the ramada floor), and turned it into a full-bloom garden of colors. Hated to wash them away it was so beautiful... but they scuff, you know. And that night was Halloween, when all the village kids and a good number of parents crowd in to see the Gringa Bruja who bribes their ugly, hateful selves to leave her alone by giving them.... CHOCOLATE! Pix posted later.

3. ANCIENT MAYAN TEMPLE ("photo")
There is already of photo of this if you scroll to a previous entry-- but now it is so overgrown with large flowering vines that it looks very much like an archeological discovery. Soon to be transformed into a washroom for laundry, dishes, and bodies. Whether or not we put in a toilet is up for debate. Old hippies here. Whassamatta with a hole in the ground? Feeds that toad! Feeds them chickens! Furthermore, it´s beautiful back there in the jungle.... AND this woman right here at this keyboard doesn´t have to scrub and clean that hole out back. Now that there´s the real reason for wondering why bother to build a throne in a box.

4. DRUG DEALS GOIN´DOWN (photo)
A Facebook friend inquired if we´d seen any lately. I answered him there, but here it is again... Our dear friends who live right at the beach DID see (early dawn) a heavily laden and powerful-motored speedboat slide onto the beach just as trucks arrived from the road that ends there... a quick hauling of cargo from boat to truck and zooom. Boats and trucks were gone and all was quiet. Not for long. Shortly after, whether connected or not (you can never know), a man was found hanging from a nearby bridge over the coastal highway. There was quite the swarm of armed soldiers around that site. There are regular roadblocks with armed military as we drive to Zihua and back. And it is quite usual for truckloads of black'dressed, masked, and heavily armed soldiers to patrol our beach. We wave and smile, and some return the courtesy. One guy called a couple of the armed guys over, along with a couple of bikini'clad girls, and set himself in the center. Photo shoot! Big grins on the faces of all.

5. iPOD REDUX (whatever)
So, I´ll end this whimsical entry with another iPod story, kinda like bookends. Robert was in the ramada fixing up surfboards. I was on the porch with crayons and a xeroxed Tibetan mandala, very engrossed in my ouevre. On the iPod was playing "Raising Sand" (Robert Plant and Alison Krauss). Up our little hill, there comes bopping our delightful long'time pal. Omar -- with white wires dangling from his ears. Well, that was no surprise, since we "paid" him for work done with an iPod. What made it fun, is that he bopped over to our iPod, unplugged our sappy sweet music (to Mexican ears for sure, though this longtime folkie loves it) and plugged in HIS iPod. Man, he had on the coolest, most involving, rhythmical, great.... African music!

Sayonara.

EPHEMERAE

1. LIGHT
Walking the winding trail through our jungly backyard, I caught sight of a perfect circle of sunlight with a perfect shadow of a heart centered within. As I walked past, I made note to return quickly with a camera and catch that view. Less than a minute later, there was not a trace of that perfection. The sun had moved on.

2. WHEELBARROWS AND SALESMEN
In 2002, and again in 2004, I made note of how the villagers traveled the winding wild dirt road from the village to the seaside.... They used wheelbarrows. The fishermen carried their gear to their boats in the early dawn, returning many hours later hopefully laden with fish. On Sundays, mothers carried the family feast and whatnot in their wheelbarrows, kids bouncing and racing all around, as they made their way to the sea. Wheels! Only a few still rode horses. Never saw a burro here.

Now, it is all trucks, and 4-wheelers, sometimes a kid driving; even fancy cars from big cities.

This transformation does bring up one delightful morning repetition. The fishermen pile in the back of trucks, and one particular young man always calls to his uncle in the early dawn light... his uncle who lives across our road, and diagonally down the hill from us, out of sight. This uncle likes to sleep in, so as well as roosters, we are treated to a humorous, friendly tirade from this nephew, as the truck putters outside the uncle's house:
"Tio! Oye, TIO! Ay, cabron..... TIO! Andale perro! Vamanos!"

3. SALESMEN
A vanished species. Back in 2004, I swung in a hammock on our porch and made note of all the things you can buy just by hanging out in a hammock on your porch. Apparently, I have lost that list, but here are some of the things: fresh baked breads, water, gas, fresh hot tortillas, ice cream and candies, furniture, hammocks, clothes, embroidered pillowcases and antimacassars, woven floor mats, jewelry, make'up, Jesus of course -- oh the list goes on. The salesmen just walk up the driveway bearing goods.

All that is mostly over now. No one can afford the gas to travel to small villages, and no one here has all that much cash on hand to buy. Gas, water, and tortillas -- and Jesus of course -- still come by. The colorful homespun creations, no more.

3. DAWN
I am now settled in enough to rise just at the very first hint of First Light, take my dulcimer and mat to the ramada and face east for the dawning.... while quietly tuning my voice to my favorite raga, going up and down the specific scale til my voice is free, and then start singing songs.... all quietly.

4. WAVES
I remember waves...... there used to be a lot of them. Big, too!

FRESH SEA-BREEZE...and...

(NOTE: I have revised the previous entry rather considerably, if you care to look it over. Also, PETER! If you´re reading this, please email me personally. We have a humble request, regarding our butterfly book, on the bed in our computer room. Please bring it! It has the directions to the butterfly forest.)

FRESH SEA-BREEZE...
The other day it was more than a "sea'breeze" --yeeeha, it was what is called in Spanish, "una tormenta." Great word for a storm. We wandered casually over to the beach as the dark clouds were building and flashing, and the wind was beginning.....

...to watch the waves, and to marvel at the waves. There were waves in every direction as far as the horizon. Huge ones, with long trailing seafoam blown off the tops like the hair of a blonde in a red sportscar. So huge, you could easily see these mammoth fellows rolling along the coastline right out there on the very horizon.

Some were rolling in towards our beach --none of those were in any predictable pattern -- but those huge rollers in the distance were going "sideways" to the beach. They were rolling from east to west, as we stood there facing south. Breath'taking wildness.

And the surfers? Oh, they were out there in spades, like little ants, scrambling around trying to catch a wave. But it was like pinball. There were waves everywhere, but most waves weren´t formed right. You had simply to be lucky, and be at the right place at the right time -- with no clue where that might be -- and with a mighty blustering wind fighting your every stroke.

Meanwhile, back at the casita.... Mind you, our every day IS sweet.

The air is fragrant because October here is like spring --lush and moist, and laced with flowers everywhere. Birds and butterflies flit about. Our house is daily filled with laughter and tricksters, and warm companionship. The latest craze is jigsaw puzzles of varying difficulty, plus creating chalk designs all over the floor of our ramada (which by the way, the kids then broom-wash away without prompting, because even THAT is fun). Much of the time, we are goofing around WITH the kids...

Occasionally, we get out there in our rolling large yard and hack down a few square yards more of the humongous overhead weeds that blanket our yard in the four'month absence. Later(!!) for hauling the tonnage to a central pile for composting. Hot work, heavy work. By the way, our last visit´s compost pile is now rich dark earth. Yes!

Is Mercury going straight YET?????

I ask, because as you all recall, I was kept out of the water from my very first day--for a week --with a stub-removal of a complete toenail. The DAY I was healed up enough to return was the DAY that ROBERT got injured and is now officially "out of the water" til HE heals.

Some dumb gringo surfer kid (which is to say, it was not a deliberate attack by you-know-who) jumped on Robert´s wave, saw him already there, and bailed from his board with a dive.... and in so doing, carelessly kicked his board directly AT Robert, causing a veryvery deep vertical gash on Robert´s shin.

Robert limped home, and we gathered ourselves to go to a clinic in a nearby village where there actually IS a clinic. All the kids that were playing at our house jumped in the car for the ride. Party! Party!

The clinic room was a recently whitewashed broom closet (small, I mean), and the treatment table was my knees. Robert sat on a folding chair and draped his injured leg over my knees and that was where the doctor treated him.. He was CLEARLY very professional, very thorough, very clean, very good.... Three stitches. Five more days and then Robert can cut his own stitches and go back into the waves.

I just learned, a propos of nothing, that a mapache is a Mexican raccoon, and a tlacuache is a Mexican possum -- so it seems from descriptions/behaviors.

Most night around midnight Guillermo (our dear Mayor, and dear friend) goes with his dog Payaso (meaning Clown) and often with Omar and HIS dog -- and they start at opposite ends of Guille´s cornfield out there among the coco trees, and they beat the stalks and yell and the dogs bark and race around and just raise hell. Scaring away the mapache. Two nights ago, Payaso caught and killed one.

Our life here is such a rich mix of ancient village life patterns found throughout the world over multiples of centuries, and the jarring nearby presence of the modern one. The anthropologist in me watches quietly, and the philosopher in me muses.

Enough! Town trip. I have many errands to do.

Chasing the Moonset...

Sitting quietly in my boat before dawn, awaiting moonset, successive clouds of small black birds rise up from the island, cover the sky in wildly noisy cacophany, and then they are gone, and all is silent.

Surely they are very same birds I watched on another day at sunset. I watched them arrive -- from where? -- with the same uproarious symphony, and settle on that island. Noisy clouds settling in the greenery, and shaking the air for some time.

I like to let the wind blow me backwards. I like to watch the lakeweeds below my boat sway as I glide over. I like to see the waterbirds move with me yet maintain our distance.

And that black waterbird, diving fearlessly so close to my boat -- she glides around a reeded bend, only to peek back at me from time to time. At last, responding to her beckoning, I slowly move my boat. Ah! Proud mama! She is showing me her little one as they fuss with no fear of me, among the reeds.

Dawn’s golden rays flash silver the leaping fish.

Here? Lotus blooming among reeds? Ha! Fine feathers floating amid.

The round moon at sunrise melts like a lemon drop into the great blueness of sky.

The Ramcharitmanas

THE RAMCHARITMANAS by Tulsidas

(from a talk I delivered recently -- better heard than read, of course.)

It has been said that you cannot truly understand the people of northern India unless
you also have some understanding of their national spiritual epic, "The Ramayana."
The name, "The Ramayana" means "The Way of Ram." But who is Ram?

Well, then -- I would add that you cannot understand the Ramayana without some modicum of

understanding of the Hindu pantheon... so here it is in the briefest of nutshells (show "graph" and explain briefly). Now that you understand that, it also helps to understand that the Ramayana is but one of a number of sacred scriptures. There are other, far older scriptures such as the Rig-Veda, which approach the spirituality of the Hindu through Wisdom... But the quickest way to know God is through Love, and the most honeyed text of Love is the Ramayana.

Especially a particular version of the Ramayana. In the 15th Century, when Shakespeare was penning his masterpieces, the lyrical poet, Tulsidas was busy creating his masterpieces. The most famous is his "Sri Ramcharitmanas" which translates: "The Manas Lake Brimming Over With the Exploits of Sri Rama." It is THIS version that lakhs and crores of Hindus (100s and 1000s, to you) have memorized, many sing it in its entirety every Saturday.... And then again, every Tuesday, many sing their favorite chapter, known as "The Sundarakand" -- "The Beautiful Story." They love to do so, because as a meditation, this book can transport you to higher realms of consciousness.

Tulsidas himself SAYS so in the final paragraph of this epic book. You've heard this once already this morning: "This translation has been rendered into the common tongue by Tulsidas for dispersing the gloom of the heart. This glorious, holy, purifying, blessed, and most limpid lake of Ram's exploits ever begets happiness; nay, it bestows both wisdom and devotion, wipes out delusion, infatuation and impurity, and is brimful with the water of Love. Those who devoutly take a plunge into it are never scorched with the burning rays of the sun of worldly illusion."

It is this book, on one delightful day, that my own guru handed out to each and every westerner then seated at his feet. (Hold up my tattered Ramcharitmanas....) Before that, I knew NOTHING of this book. Shortly after receiving my copy I got a small taste of the power of the book. I was on a train, third class, women's car, and had the book in my lap. Sitting across from me, were three wizened "grandmothers", as sweet and gentle as warm honey. Our knees pressed against each others' across the narrow space.

Spying my Ramayana, one grandmother asked to look at it. She flipped through the pages and found, in the Hindi text section, a favorite passage. She and her companions offered to sing it to me. She passed the book back, and showed me where to follow along in English. You had to be there, of course, but the atmosphere became charged with light, and the meaning of the words took form as they sang praises to the dust of the feet of the guru. It begins in this way:

"I greet the pollen-like dust of the lotus feet of my preceptor, refulgent, fragrant and flavoured with love. It is a lovely powder of the life-giving herb, which allays the host of all the attendant ills of mundane existence... It rubs the dirt off the beautiful mirror in the shape of the devotee's heart. When (this dust) is applied to the forehead it attracts a host of virtues. .."

Once I began reading this book myself, I was delighted by Tulsidas' disclaimer of his own skill as a writer... Here is but a taste of it: "...recognizing the entire creation as full of Sita and Rama, I make obeisance to them with joined palms. ... I have no confidence in my intellectual power, hence I supplicate you all. ....(For herein, I dare to) recount the virtues of Sri Rama. But my wits are poor, whereas the exploits of Sri Ram are unfathomable. ... my intellect is exceedingly mean, my ambition is pitched too high. (Of those who are ) slaves of the flesh, anger and passion, and who are unscrupulous, hypocritical and foremost among intriguers --I occupy the first place among them. (...) I am no poet, nor an adept in the art of speech. (... ) There are elegant devices of letters, subtleties of meaning, various figures of speech, metrical compositions of different kinds, infinite varieties of emotions and sentiments and multifarious flaws and excellences of poetic composition. Of these details of poesy, I possess critical knowledge of none. My composition is devoid of all charm; it has only one merit, which is known throughout the world. ... It contains the gracious name of... Ram."

Despite this elegant denial, "The Ramcharitmanas" is a pleasure to read, just to absorb the exquisite skill of the poet as he takes off on highly descriptive sidepaths, as he wanders into philosophical and spiritual realms. Furthermore, it is a rich compendium of the Hindu culture. This book contains numerous stories-within-the-story, which explain the background and history of the various characters and events. Each of these stories is filled with humor, pathos and wonder.

For the sheer mischief of it, may I share with you an excerpt from one of them... In this one, the world's very existence is being threatened by an all-powerful demon, and it has been said that only the son of Shiva can conquer this demon. Unfortunately, Shiva is childless, celibate, and deep in an eons-long trance. Someone must volunteer to awaken him. The onus falls on the God of Love, who mutters to himself, "I expect no good to come to myself from this."

Love tries many tactics to awaken Shiva, all of which fail. But his most memorable attempt -- and it fails also, by the way, though I doubt any of us here would escape -- Anyway, his most memorable attempt to awaken Shiva was to set all of creation into a state of pure lust. Listen to these excerpts:

"(Love) then exhibited his power and brought the whole world under his sway -- the sway of lust. All the barriers imposed by the Vedas were swept away in a moment. The whole army of discriminating knowledge such as celibacy, religious vows, self-restraint, fortitude, piety, spiritual wisdom, and the knowledge of qualified divinity both with form and without form, morality, muttering of prayers, yoga, dispassion and so on fled in panic. They all went and hid themselves in mountain caves in the form of sacred books! Whatever creatures existed in the world, whether animate or inanimate, were completely possessed by lust. The boughs of trees bent low at the sight of creepers. Rivers in spate rushed to meet the ocean. Lakes and ponds united in love. Where such was reported to be the case with the inanimate creation, who can relate the doings of sentient beings? Beasts that walk on land and birds traversing the air and water lost all sense of time and became victims of lust. As for gods, demons, human beings, serpents, evil spirits, fiends, ghosts and vampires -- I have refrained from dwelling on the condition of these, knowing them to be the eternal slaves of passion. Even spiritual adepts, Siddhas and yogis gave up their practices under the influence of lust. (...) For nearly an hour this wonderful game of Love lasted in the universe. Shiva's unbroken trance, however, could not be disturbed."

Finally, Love DOES find a way to awaken Shiva --but at the cost of his own embodiment. Shiva dutifully fathers a son, who goes on to destroy the demon and so on..... But this background story is still simply setting the stage.

So now, on to the main text of the Ramayana. Overall, it is a simple story. There is a despotic king -- a demonic king from the south who aspires to dominate over all the three worlds: the underworld of the demons, the human realm, and the heavenly realm of the gods. He sets out to destroy all the temples, and all the holy priests, as well as capture all the pretty women including (and herein lies the kernel of the tale) -- including capturing Ram's lovely wife Sita. The demon's name is Ravana. He is intelligent, handsome, and charming when you look directly at him. But glimpsed out of the corner of your eye, he is terrifying with 10 heads and 20 arms, violent and angry. The terrified people, even the Earth herself, pray to the heavens for salvation. Lo and behold, their prayers are answered! A savior, by the name of Rama, is born -- and he does just that. With the help of a humble monkey named Hanuman, who locates the kidnapped Sita, and the help of other jungly creatures who fight the smaller demons, Ram confronts and destroys this scourge of creation, this Ravana, sets free his wife, and sets the world back on a righteous track. End of story.

Ah, but the glory is in the details! How the Hindus treasure each and every step of the way -- allegorically, romantically, spiritually... They see the essence of this story repeated continually, in their personal lives, AND they see it expanded into the flow of national and international politics. And they often speak of it. Here is one example of how The Ramcharitmanas was applied to our modern times... It is embodied in another interesting pre-story. This one gives a deeper understanding of the demonic Ravana. And it gives a far deeper understanding of the vastness of Love which permeates all Creation. It is a great story. Here is but a snapshot:

As the story goes -- Ravana, in his previous incarnation, had been a goodhearted king named Pratapabhanu. This Pratapabhanu was a spiritually advanced soul, kind and generous to his people. His only flaw was pride -- pride in how well he ruled, and thus he could not resist conquering neighboring kingdoms and imposing his rule over them. Not surprisingly, this pride led to jealousy and anger on the part of the conquered kings, and sure enough, one such king took revenge. Through an elaborate deception, he caused Pratapabhanu to be cursed by 1000 Brahmins! Oh, they cursed him! They cursed him to be reborn as the demonic scourge of creation in his next life, him and all his family! Thus this once good king became... Ravana. His only hope for salvation from this dreadful embodiment was to be conquered by the embodiment of Love, by the godhead incarnate... Enter Ram, whose arrows behead him and split his body in half... emphatically freeing him from his demonic debt. He is now free to be reborn, as a humbled spiritual adept, and continue on his path to enlightenment. Applying that birth/rebirth pattern to modern times, one Hindu friend of mine said, quite matter-of-factly, that that same reincarnation pattern was true of.... Hitler.

THERE ARE NO BAD GUYS. IT IS ALL ABOUT LOVE -- AND UNDERSTANDING THE BIG PICTURE, THE REALLY BIG PICTURE WHICH IS: IT'S ALL ABOUT LOVE.

All of this teaching is so sweetly embedded throughout the story of Ram. So... here's a quick glance at the symbolism of a few of the characters in the epic:

For example, according to Tulsidas, Ram is the unfathomable, incomprehensible Godhead beyond words... but for now let'ss say that Ram represents our Pure Self of Noble Instincts-- that pure being within us who longs to manifest. However, we cannot easily achieve that state of awakening because our willpower, our inner strength, our pure self, our kundalini (which is Sita) is held too tightly captive, entrenched by our worldly entanglements -- the entanglements of lust, greed, anger and attachment (Ravana). It is only by deep inner resolve, calming ourselves down, humbling ourselves with some sort of regular spiritual practice that we can hope to break free (symbolized by the monkey, Hanuman, ever the humble servant). Then --and only then-- can we find the deep and stable inner peace that we seek (symbolized by the union of Sita and Rama).

Let me play with that for a bit... by looking again at the storyline,. But this time, I will add the symbolism of the characters and actions:

Here we have a world suffering under the scourge of a despotic king (that would be each of us doing the suffering, thanks to our own desires and attachments). Then, because of the passionate prayers of the people (our own longing), Vishnu incarnates as Ram (we become aware of our own spiritual potential). All looks good. Ram is slated to be crowned king -- but on the very eve of his coronation, the intrigues of jealousy break out (our desires distract us)... and Ram is instead banished to wander in the jungle for 14 years (recall our own detours along the way). As Ram sets off, his brother Lakshman and his lovely new bride Sita come running after him. They will NOT be left behind.

The journey leads them deeper and deeper into the dark jungles, closer and closer to the kingdom of the despotic and ambitious Ravana (what risks have each of us taken in our life's journey? what tempting detours?). While wandering in the jungle, there are demonic spies who have been watching the trio, and reporting back to Ravana. (this would be our personal justifications for our transgressions... lying to ourselves) Most ominously, these spies praise the beauty and purity of Sita. Ravana, who must always have the best, decides to personally kidnap Sita for his harem, which he does. (in other words, we succumb to the self-deception of pride in our accomplishments -- but there is no peace in that, and so comes the next development)

Rama (our soul), distraught with grief at the loss of Sita, and with no standing army to turn to, engages the help of the local denizens of the forest -- the humble beings around him -- the monkeys and bears, and chipmunks.

One monkey emerges from among the many -- the clever, deeply devoted, very capable and surprisingly humble Hanuman (personal spiritual practice). Ravana feels no threat whatsoever from humans and monkeys (spiritual practice! HA!)! He cannot recognize their inner strengths. Indeed, he exclaims triumphantly, "They are our FOOD!"

Thus the story goes on. You're on your own now, to make the symbolic connections.

I would like to end my talk by touching on the most beloved chapter of the entire epic, "The Sundarakand/The Beautiful Story"... and I want to highlight it. It tells of how the humble Monkey, Hanuman, finds Sita and reports back to Ram.

It is beautiful because of the antics and cleverness of Hanuman. It is beautiful because of his gentleness with Sita. It is quite delightful how Hanuman outwits the demons, even Ravana -- and how cleverly he burns down the demon's city of Lanka. And, it is beautiful because of the words he speaks to Ram, reassuring Ram that his lovely Sita is alive...

What happens next in The Sundarakand, is the moment perhaps the most highly prized by the Hindu. There is an image of this moment in stained glass in the Hanuman Temple in Taos. I have used it as the cover on my CD. And it is there, on the cover of this morning's program (and at the top of this post, btw). The image portrays this: Hearing Hanuman's report of Sita's wellbeing, Ram is overwhelmed with emotion. Tears flood from his lotus eyes. He draws Hanuman to his feet and gently enfolds him in his arms. (that moment!) Ram says: "No one, no god, no human, no sage, has done for me what you have done, o Hanuman. How can I repay you? Listen, my son. I have thought over this question, and I have concluded that the debt which I owe you for finding my beloved Sita can never be repaid...." Hanuman, utterly overwhelmed with love, falls to the ground sobbing, "Save me, save me, from the grasping tentacles of egotism!" That moment in the narrative, for the Hindu, is a show-stopper....

Then, the action picks up considerably. It is time for the battle! Ravana must be destroyed. Sita must be rescued! And few details are ignored. This is a thick book. The army of monkeys and bears -- and chipmunks -- spring into action and engage the demon forces in battle. It is not a pretty sight, and it is described in its full gore... with unholy rivers of blood, and ghouls and goblins taking their plunge in it, and dead warriors floating down it like boats, with birds perched on them... There are even heat-seeking missiles and multiple warheads. Our modern weapons are nothing new. The battle goes from the physical realm into the psychic realm of illusion, as well... In the end, as I've said earlier, the final battle comes down to one-on-one between Ravana and Ram. Ram kills Ravana and then praises him for the great -- but flawed -- king that he was. His karmic debt has now been erased.

This entire adventure, from the moment Ram was banished to this dramatic death of Ravana, by the way, has taken exactly the same 14 years for which Ram had been banished. Ram is now free to return to Ayodhya. There is, however, one controversial snag. Something about the fact that Sita had been under the roof of another man... There is an older version of the Ramayana, written by Valmiki in classical Sanskrit, which does not shy away from this snag. But our beautiful poet Tulsidas does not have the heart for it...

So, let us leave the happy couple here (we can touch upon this "snag" in the discussion afterwards).

Let's watch as they ride in their aerial chariot back to Ayodhya, Hanuman ever by their side. Let's see how ecstactically they are welcomed home to a city aglow with little votive lamps lining every roof in the city...

Let's not look -- not now -- at the ending of this story as recorded in the older Valmiki text.

Let's leave this story here... for now.