SATURDAY SESSIONS (We're back!) # 33

Nothing like a six-month death-sentence to concentrate the mind. Funny how we all go around thinking we'll live forever. I mean, six months, six years, sixteen, even sixty years' time, what's the difference?  It all boils down to the same death-sentence in the end. Doesn't it? The thought itself should be enough to concentrate the mind.  But of course we forget, don't we? We prefer to forget it. Yep, we only begin to realise the finality of it all once we've been handed down a death-sentence by a self-styled judge in a suit or a lab-coat.                                                                                           

I'll just try the internet to see what Lucy was on about. No, let's check the e-mails first. Here we go. Oh no, it's unbelievable.  I signed up to a few of these spiritual teachings a few months ago and it's turned into a stampede. How did they know where to find me? I must have hit the wrong button somewhere in my zeal. Yes, I know I can unsubscribe the lot of them but it's not as if they're saying anything wrong, it's not as if they're waffling on about anything I don't necessarily agree with.  Xendo and Solari will vouch for that!  It's just that, well, the money, you know? The fee. The merchandise. The filthy lucre. It always ends up adding to cart and right now, adding to cart is the last thing I can afford.  I thought it was a good idea at the time when I was getting pissed off with the job.  I suppose I'd hoped to find some kind of guidance. All this talk about Mindfulness and presence and what have you, a purpose in life, a reason for being alive. There's always the hope that maybe just one of those e-mails would speak to me directly, you know, about the problem.  I don't mean address me directly, of course, with their algorithms. I know these people mean well and you may call me old-fashioned if you will, but how can you address someone as Dearest Jordan if you've never met him or had any prior contact with him in any connection whatsoever?  Worse still, how can you sign off Love, Jim? or Love, Julia. Well, Love Julia mightn't have been so bad, I suppose, but Love, Jim?  Oops. Slap on the non-PC wrist, Jordan. Intolerance.  Huh, maybe it's the real me coming out, now that I'm under pressure. No, but really, what annoys me is the way we're supposed to be impressed if they flaunt their qualifications or herald their mighty egoic presence as Dr Jim. These people aren't medical doctors or doctors of non-medical healing. Sometimes they even write their title in full, Doctor, just in case we miss the point.  Can you believe it? I can just see Xendo, with that sardonic smile of his, shaking his head in despair.                                                               

Here's one...Due to high demand, the price may be TRIPLED soon, tripled, mind you, in capital letters... Why would they want to do that? Why would they want to triple it? Because soon the demand will be three times higher? Or three times lower? Why would they triple the price if the demand were three times higher or three times lower? Why the pressure to buy the product now?  Why the pressure to buy at all, more like?  Why the pressure? The spiritual teachers say there's abundance everywhere, enough in the world for every man, woman and unwashed child on the planet. Low hanging fruit. All we have to do is reach out and take it. Well, well, well. Jesus and the Buddha said that too except they weren't talking about money. So what's wrong with money? the algorithm asks. Nothing. I suppose. If you already have it. Here's some more....The traditional world is collapsing....If you survive the collapse, you will prosper...Seize control of your destiny....Seize control of my destiny? Thanks, but no thanks...my destiny is locked on a collision course with oblivion...The creation of your ideal reality by manifesting your perfect dream...Power and influence...magnetic sexual attraction....perfect health...Perfect health?...Yes, please... Wealth and riches beyond what you ever imagined possible...Bit late for that now, pal....PayPal, Visa, MasterCard, Amex....     

                                                                                                                                                           

Wait. An e-mail from Lucy.                                                                                                      

Hi Jordan,                                                                                                                                             
Quick note to remind you, in case you forget the name, I Ching.  Sure enough, a quick search here shows that echoes of Lemuria resonate throughout the Pacific. Would be so nice if we could do the research together but I just haven't got the time. Wouldn't it be amazing if you found anything that matched your own experience in the sessions?  Check out Easter Island!

See you tomorrow,

Lucy xx

# 34 next week! Catch up on: gregoryrosenstock.blogspot.com    

www.gregoryrosenstock.com            

SATURDAY SESSIONS # 32

'Wait a minute! I remember!' I cried.  'I remember the First Law! The First Law says: You exist. That's it, that's the First Law. You exist! '

As I might have expected if I'd been at least half sober, this idiotic outburst of mine brought the house down. Aklo was literally bent over in raucous laughter. Of course the jokes kept coming. So if I exist, where does that leave you? or, If I don't exist, do I break the Law? or, Everything changes except Law Six, and other such puerile inanities.                                                                       

Believe me, it's funnier when you've had a few drinks in you. I laughed as much as they did.  In fact, I hadn't actually laughed as much for as long as I could remember.  What would Zol think of me now? Xendo? Solari?  I felt so ashamed of myself and yet I was laughing my head off. No wonder the Lemurians couldn't trust the wheelies. I was as ridiculous as any of them.                               

As the merriment died down, a deep, soft gong rang out, followed by an announcement that our shuttle was waiting to transport us to our island airport.  As I stood to leave with the group, in the distance I could hear someone singing that song again. Solari's song. Where was it coming from? I started to weep quietly as the tears welled up and before I knew it, the sobbing became uncontrollable. Jordan? queried Sanshi, staring into my eyes through her huge, black spectacles, holding my arm, are you all right?  I hadn't noticed how beautiful those large green eyes of hers were...Sanshi...Jordan?...Jordan?....                                                 

'Jordan?'                                                                                           

It's Lucy's voice.                                                                                

'Lazarus!' she laughs. 'Are you OK?  I'm sorry, I had to wake you. I thought you were choking, your whole body was trembling. One minute you're laughing your head off, then the next minute you're shaking all over and crying. That trip must have been quite a roller-coaster!  So sorry to have to wake you, but I was getting a little worried. You were really out long enough for one day. Cup of tea before we do the recording?'

Long Time Sun is playing in the background. 

I wipe the tears from my face and try to remember the Six Laws. 

Lucy returns with a tray of tea and a slice of her delicious apple and blackberry pie. 

As she goes over her notes after my recording, she remarks that the Jainists, who go back to the time of the Buddha, are also very conscientious about the life-forms under their feet. They use brooms to sweep the insects away in front of them as they walk.  She tells me that the term merkaba has captured her interest. She took a course once which included a module on Egyptology she says. When she was a student. In another life, as she puts it jokingly.  The ba and the ka terms also appear in ancient Egyptian culture. The ba was the personality; the ka the spirit, or vital spark, that kept the person alive. In Egyptian hieroglyphs, the ba was represented as a bird with a man's head. Or was it a man with a bird's head?

I'm exhausted.  And to be honest, far too tired to be bothered by any of this right now. I need some air. Mercifully, Lucy's phone rings and she answers it.  I point urgently at my watch, grab my phone, wave at her and dash for the door, feeling relieved to be out of there at last. I look forward to a cool beer and a normal chat at home with Cathy.  In the breeze, on the way to the bus-stop, I can still feel the tears on my face. 

Lucy rings me on my mobile while I'm on the bus. She's wondering if I'd ever heard of the I Ching, pronounced Ih Ging. No, no I don't believe I have. Can I remember anything else about the chessboard design on the wall, the squares of straight and broken lines of silver and lapis lazuli?  Oh, yes, of course. Yes. What about it?  She asks me to Google the I Ching as soon as I get home and to contact her if I can make any connections. She spells it out for me. I try to show some interest and tell her I'll do it first thing.  I take out my biro and write I Ching on my fist.

As I get off the bus and cross the road, I look around for the guy in the wheelchair.  I wonder where he is now.