By William Buck
within the iciness of 1967 i discovered myself dwelling in a tiny temple in
the foothills of the Himalayas. This used to be the fruits of a
path which had taken me via western psychology, then
psychedelic chemical substances, and at last to the East in pursuit of
methods of awakening and stabilizing improved know-how. I
had ultimately came upon my Guru, a guy who i used to be definite knew
what i wished to understand, and he had put me during this temple.
At the time I spoke no Hindi, and so I understood little of
what used to be taking place round me. on a daily basis many folks would
visit the temple to ring bells, make choices and do obeisance
before quite a few statues, and obtain presents of meals and pink marks
on their foreheads, put there by way of the priest. Having grown
up in a tradition the place idolatry was once thought of profane, I felt a
discomfort bordering on aversion towards those alien practices.
However, there has been one statue of a monkey known as Hanuman
that attracted me. The statue was once over 8 toes tall, made of
cement, painted an orangey-red, and was once crude in detail.
Hanuman used to be depicted tearing open his chest, and in the
middle of his middle have been tiny figures depicting Ram (God)
and Sita (Ram's wife). usually i might spend an hour or two
during the chilly, transparent mountain wintry weather days sitting on the
porch sooner than this statue. i'd meditate upon Hanuman and
ask him to give an explanation for himself to me. after all, interspersed with
this one-sided discussion have been recommendations concerning the humor of the
situation. i may think my former colleagues from the
Harvard college discovering me sitting sooner than this large monkey.
Obviously, they might imagine, previous Dick Alpert had long gone over