A group of artists, writers, poets and assorted madmen has been gathering for an annual conference for over 25 years. In early 1990 they started a monthly newsletter, The Crow, consisting of whatever the subscribers sent in to the editor each month. This was my initial letter to the group in Jan. 1991, written while I was in India.

Bodh Gaya, Bihar, India

Dear Conference Friends,

On my first visit to India in 1988, I met an old retired "forest yogi." He said the crows had told him in advance of my coming, and that they frequently gave him messages of this kind. He was known to have other occult powers, according to friends who had known him for many years.

Now, as I write to you from this small town on the Gangetic plain of north India, the crows are insistently cackling in the trees, drowning out the songs of less aggressive species -- the struggle for survival is very apparent here. On the roads, for instance, the size of the vehicle (manifested by the loudness of its horn) determines its right to dominate the very limited space.

This second trip to India, with girlfriend Alison, had two specific goals. The first was to witness the Kalachakra Initiation ceremony given by the Dalai Lama at Sarnath in late December. Sarnath is one of the main Buddhist centers, being the place where Buddha first gave teachings after fully realizing his enlightenment. The Kalachakra ceremony was a gigantic open-air event, several days long, attended by over 150,000 Tibetans, monks and pilgrims, and a few hundred Westerners. Sitting on the ground under colorful awnings held up by high bamboo poles and ropes, the enormous crowd first listened to His Holiness teach on the desirability of a life of selflessness and compassion. In his view, these are essential preliminaries to "enlightenment" (maybe lifetimes or eons away), but in the meantime, qualities that will make earthly life more tolerable. Then he plunged through the immensely complex and rich Kalachakra ritual which involved scores of vows, supplications, mantras, visualizations, dissolving and transforming energies manifested via multi-appendaged deities, symbols, sanskrit syllables, internal work with chakras -- all in and around a gigantic imaginary replica of one's "totality" envisioned as a three dimensional "mandala." When projected into two dimensions this mandala emerged as a large highly intricate colored powder painting, created by monks simultaneously with the ritual.

It would have taken years of study and tantric practice to follow the ritual he led us through, so I would guess that only a handful "got it" as intended. For some, the initiation was the gateway to begin learning the tantric practice, which after much further study would become a daily meditation. The rest of us caught a few crumbs as they fell off the banquet table, or simply took in the ritual as a blessing for peace and resolution of "chaotic invading forces."

The conditions created by this number of quite primitive people camping in an area with minimal sanitation facilities can hardly be imagined. Many died of diseases of course. A "peace walk" led by His Holiness turned violent and ferocious as the very pushy Tibetan masses surged out of control. We were wary of anything billed as a "peace walk," so managed to avoid that particular horror. Fortunately no one was killed. A previous Kalachakra gathering of Tibetans had resulted in 17 being trampled to death. When the ritual was completed we moved on to Bodh Gaya.

Bodh Gaya is a small, typically filthy town in the countryside of Bihar, one of the poorest and nastiest states in India. But because this is the site where the Buddha gained his complete enlightenment under the Bodhi tree, it is a major center for teachers and pilgrims. We came here because an extraordinary young American that we'd known for several months was giving teachings here in January. Coincidentally, Alison's Buddhist "guru" was also here. The focal point of the town is the several acre walled park, at the center of which is a tall, four sided pyramidal stone temple (the stupa) immediately abutting a large Banyan tree grown from a sapling from the original tree. The temple's shape and highly carved surfaces are reminiscent of the Dravidian style seen in South India. Three concentric square walkways surround the stupa, with the outermost on the highest level, the middle several feet lower, and the inner one at the temple base, the lowest. Paths also radiate out from the stupa. Plants, trees, water ponds, and a profusion of elaborate stone pillars, platforms and smaller stupas combine to articulate this most extraordinary landscape. At night, thousands of candles and butter lamps lighted by pilgrims line the walls and walkways. It's really a "magical" place.

Conditions of life are difficult though, even for us who only stay a few weeks. Getting here is arduous, accommodations are poor, food is abominable, water undrinkable without treatment -- sickness is everpresent. A traveler could come here for the beauty and exotic sightseeing, but for this the discomforts would proscribe more than a brief stay. An adventurer could find India a fine challenge to his resourcefulness and power of endurance. But this village offers little for sightseers or adventurers; those who come here for more than a one day "look" are seeking something else -- it is undoubtedly one of the world's "power places" for spiritual work. The teachers we're here to be with are enlightened masters from diverse traditions, but share a similar perspective: if a person wishes to, he can transform his consciousness and life through spiritual "work," using meditation and a variety of exercises to gain insight into his true nature. They teach that it is possible to clarify and simplify your thoughts and feelings, see through the illusory nature of our normal perceptions and reactions, and release oneself from the bondage created by the usual rampant play of ignorance, desire, and anger.

The idea of seeking "enlightenment" meets a lot of skepticism in the West, much of it justified. Unfortunately, New Age nonsense, deluded "gurus," and hopelessly mangled and degenerated Eastern teachings fill the marketplace here (as well as in India). It may be difficult to find an authentic teacher; but some, I think do offer something on quite another level than known to Western psychology. I admire the brilliant work of Jung and his followers, J. Hillman et. al. and their efforts to understand the workings of our Unconscious; but I see no sign that they've had much experience of the timeless, thoughtless state. Nor do they seem to be aiming at "liberation" in the sense I mean it. Obviously we could never be "free" if we're living in profound denial of buried traumas, living out self-destructive patterns. But how many years do you need to dwell on your darkness, grief, and victimization? Isn't interminable addiction to therapy an excuse for spiritually lazy self-pity and indulgence? If you have felt the swaying of the elephant's shoulders, why keep collecting and savoring your donkey's droppings as if they were great treasures? [images from mystical poems of Mirabai].

In India, by the way, all animal dung is meticulously collected, formed by hand into round patties, slapped against a wall to dry, then burned as fuel for cooking. Sometimes for prolonged meditation, yogis pile the patties in a circle around them, using the smoldering shit to envelop them in a cloud of smoke. Whether this is to keep away the mosquitoes or serves some more esoteric purpose, I don't know. Many strange things happen here, and the longer you stay, the less you can grasp it at all.

Love to all, A.M.

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