CurleyWorld

Enlightenment wasn't built in a day. Stuff happens.

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The horse I rode in on

My Equine friend and I, Ireland, 2018

Well blog friends, it’s been quite some time since I’ve added an entry here. Since April of 2019, I believe. 2019 was an immensely busy year for me, packed with work work, more work around my home, personal projects, and a fair amount of travel for work. The stories to tell are great, from vacationing for 10 days in Cape May in August, working for three weeks selling the art of drummer Rick Allen in a venue at Planet Hollywood in Las Vegas during Def Leppard’s residency there, to a week working on the KISS Kruise with Paul Stanley and his art work. And in between and after that was overseeing numerous art shows in suburban Philly, Florida, and more.

In my downtime, when I managed to find some, I spent considerable time proofing and editing my forthcoming book, a memoir inspired by the life of Mark Twain. But on top of all that, I went into the final stretch of a two year revision project of my first book, Masters Among Us . If you decide to check it out, make sure you pick the one with this cover.

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Masters Among Us was the authorial horse I rode in on, saddling me into the world of writing and self publishing 20 years ago. Back then, self publishing was still a risky venture and equated with vanity publishing. After then sending out numerous query letters and receiving countless rejection letters, I took it on to launch the book independently through the Canadian based publisher Trafford in 2000. The experience opened the door to learning a bit about book publishing, and my acquired savvy guided me through the process again with a 2004 revision through 1stBooks.

For the past several years I endeavored to pursue the traditional publishing route again by sending out countless queries for my new Twain manuscript. After a thrilling moment when I received an email from one publisher who had fully read and agreed to produce my manuscript, in a matter of weeks I was informed in a follow-up email that the publisher had changed their mind. They explained that it wasn’t because they didn’t enjoy the book’s content they had so enthusiastically embraced the first time, but instead it was because I didn’t have an established, expansive enough social media following.

Imagine my disappointment. After wallowing in self pity for a day, I refused to be deterred and began to investigate alternative avenues. This time around, I learned a great deal about how the publishing industry had changed in 20 years. The stigma associated with self-publishing had long withered, and most of the articles I took the time to read revealed that now it was essentially the only way to go. That was an eye opener. I concluded that the only way to defeat the publishing industry Goliath at its own game was to create my own publishing company and jockey into position Trojan Horse style. This notion came somewhat easy for me from having researched the entire life of Mark Twain, through which I had already learned of his own self-created publishing firm. I opened that door inspired, filed my LLC docs with the state, designed my own logo (since I’ve also been the creative director of my free lance design studio for 40 years), and launched my own press.

Egged on with Mark Twain as my muse, the experience was quite empowering and liberating. It fueled my determination to complete the projects while experimenting with an endless catalog of software, templates, tutorials, etc. Yet, this came naturally for me. I had been trained in desktop publishing in 1989-91 at what is now Berkeley College. Graphic Interface was in its infancy then as I cut my teeth on the now prehistoric Macintosh II and LC platforms.

In 1990, the LC was the most coveted computer in publishing class, prompting my classmates and I to arrive early in an endeavor to nab it first. There were only a two or three new LC’s in a computer lab dominated by Mac II’s.

Though I’ve since used numerous platforms and programs for catalog and pre-print design for employers through the years, I found myself in comfortable territory, but, admittedly, the advances in graphic technology proved to be daunting. So, again I mounted my horse sporting Quixotic armor and lance of determination, and galloped head on into uncharted publishing territory.

Each morning for months in 20 minute to 2 hour sessions of editing, composing, trialing software and honing each letter, conjunction and jpeg with focused precision, the result is that Masters Among Us is once again available in print worldwide, and, for the first time ever, as an ebook.

I have to give kudos to two people for this endeavor. It was my friend Jen, director of the wonderful Project Resiliency, who first enthusiastically suggested resurrecting ‘Masters’ as an ebook during a dinner conversation in March of 2018. I was open to the notion since pulling it off the market in 2006, when one of the individuals and key subjects I had previously researched for the 2004 revision, the spiritual teacher Sri Bhagavan, had then relayed through one of my interview contacts that the published revision wasn’t finished. I couldn’t figure it out for years. So, because of Jen’s prompting, after 14 years I again reached out to Sri Bhagavan through his network of affiliates in the US. What occurred afterward is a long story, but my interaction with this saintly man led me to an aha moment, and frankly, THAT became the missing story. And so, I’m happy to say that the new, 2020 revised edition includes that missing material in two new added chapters.

Were it not for Jen and Sri Bhagavan, I’m not sure the book would be available at this time. To the both of them, I extend my thanks and gratitude.

So now, with a gentle tug on my horse’s reigns, I turn my attention again to the Twain-themed manuscript on which I’ve worked since 2017. I hope to have it published and available later this year. In the meantime, I’ll mosey along with more blog entries. Until we meet again, Happy Trails to you!

Horse trekking on the beach, Ireland, 2018.

Shiva brushes his teeth

Friday April 5, 2019 8:08 am

A lot of cool and curious things have been happening in my daily sadhana practice. I’ve wanted to sit and write them down, but the other requirements of my daily existence have taken precedence. 

Today’s meditation happened somewhat spontaneously and unplanned. I went to bed late last night after spending a considerable amount of time doing some final reediting to my manuscript about Mark Twain, et al. I’ve decided to Self-publish the work after almost a year of knocking on the doors of agents and publishers, and having read a very good article on Scribe yesterday about the current state of the book publishing industry which weighed the pros and cons of traditional versus self publishing. The author, a publishing industry veteran with an inside perspective, had explained how much the publishing industry had changed and how challenging it is for authors in my stage of the game to get their foot in the door. He went on to say how the current climate, with so many options, is practically a plug in to go with self publishing as the best option. There are some associated caveats, but I have a few tricks up my sleeves with regard to those areas. I hope to have the book release in short duration.

So, this morning, I got up at 5:00 am, as has become the routine lately (more on that below), but instead decided to go back to bed. I planned on staying in my warm, comfortable bed a little later than usual when my wife summoned me at 7:00 am to move my car out of the driveway so she could get to work. No problem. I dressed, did my deed, and instead of returning to horizontal dreamland I made a cup of Chai, wrapped a blanket across me from neck to ankle, and settled into our living room rocker where I often practice my shorter meditations. 

Within a short time, the cozy warmth my body enjoyed was replicated on the interior of my being. I became mildly enraptured by the soothing waves of shakti coursing casually through my brain and nervous system. Sensations in my brain have been like this since beginning a new sadhana technique I learned less than a week ago. Today it felt like I was getting a nice, gentle massage in a bath of warm water on the interior of my cranium and around the surface of my brain. Accompanying this was a rapturous state of inner satisfaction. Since yesterday, the thought arose “So, this is what the experience of oneness with Shiva is like.”

I say that because I have been reading texts associated with the Kashmir Shaivism tradition. One book, mentioned before, is Secret of the Siddhas by Swami Muktananda, which is largely Baba’s (Muktananda’s) commentaries on the Shiva Sutras, the ancient root of that philosophical school. The other is Jaideva Singh’s translation and new commentary on 10thcentury commentaries about the Shiva Sutras encapsulated in the work known as Spanda Karikas. So, in this context, Shiva means the experience of conscious consciousness – the awareness of being aware that you are aware and that you are one with that experience of awareness. You are that awareness, ergo, you are Shiva. 

For some time now, well over a month, I have found my body waking consistently at 5:00 am or so. Almost every time this has happened, it was always 5:10 on my alarm clock. Now, I could easily lie in bed as I have for the past 30-40 years and meditate later, but these days, each morning at promptly 5:00 am-ish, I also experience an urgent need to urinate. After so complying with my body’s wish, I typically have returned to my room to sit upright and meditate for about an hour before proceeding with the needs of the day. 

Each meditation in the last week, since learning this new, advanced technique on Sunday, has been similar as my description above. The process seems to massage the lobes of the brain and stimulate neural pathways. On the first day I practiced the technique, during meditation afterward my brain felt like it was on fire, as if it were gently being simmered in the crockpot of my cranium. I could feel the interior lining of my skull, while each cell and fiber of my brain pulsated. It felt almost crystalline, as if my brain were made of glass, but composed of molecules that were simultaneously independent in their group cohesiveness. It felt like my brain was a shimmering, endlessly faceted jewel, and was alive with shimmering Chitshakti.[i]It was as if my consciousness had discovered the secret access to an ancient cave, its walls lined with the purest gold and diamonds. 

On the second day, during meditation, this continued but to a lesser degree, and instead shifted to awareness of a deepened experience of being. That Shivaness thing again. I also got the impression that something in the interior of my brain was being purified, and subsequently my body developed mild cold or flu like symptoms. My mind, in the meantime, naturally tried to do its thing to create fear or concern. My mind started throwing thoughts about having encephaliitis or some other disease. But intuitively, I knew this thought to be a falsehood and just let it wither. 

On the third day, yesterday, I got a bit busy in the morning, so I wasn’t able to make time to meditate until an hour before I had to be in work. So, I decided to squeeze in 20 or so minutes to do the 7 minute technique and meditate for the rest. I’m glad I did. As I sat in the rocker in my living room, during the 7 minute practice I again felt the stimulation in the lobes of my brain. Again I felt the sensation of shimmering, like sunlight reflected on a calmly rippling lake. As I went deeper into meditation, a soft sense of bliss enveloped me, and within short duration, I experienced my body dissolve into consciousness and vanish. Now, I didn’t actually physically disappear, but internally, my experience was that the external shell of my body just merged into the entirety of the physical universe. I experienced myself as pure consciousness. I was the universe. 

As I observed myself experiencing this, I saw that I was observing myself observing. The observer and observed were one. This, I recognized, was akin to the description of the state of Shiva defined in the Shiva Sutras and what I had just been reading in Muktananda’s commentaries. My whole being smiled with gratitude. A thought arose, inquiring from where or why this was arising, and I saw a very subtle image of the contour of the transparent head and shoulders of the Siddha master Bhagavan Nityananda composed of shimmering sparkles of pure gold. I saw that this was the gift of that great being, who is sort of the grandfather – the Bade Baba – of the Siddha lineage I had enjoined through my study with, and receipt of Shaktpat Diksha from, Swami Muktananda. I inwardly pranamed softly, with recognition and gratitude. 

This observer then opened its eyes to observe the time on my cell phone. 14 minutes had passed since I completed the 7-minute sadhana. This was perfect timing as now I had to end the session and get ready for work, with ample time to drive and arrive at my scheduled time. After Shiva brushed his teeth, groomed and dressed, I got in my car and noticed myself navigating the highways with complete serenity and stillness, witnessing everything with an evenness and choreographed perfection. 

The cranium massage experience, I had noticed through the week, was also occurring from almost the minute I switched off my mind’s focus on work details as I closed my shop and proceeded to my car in the parking lot, as well as throughout my commute, and after settling in at home. Most of these nights, I would fill a glass with purified water, then retire and sit in my bed to read a few passages from Secret of the Siddhas or Spanda Karikas. I randomly opened this latter book, to find the English translation of this passage: 

“When the yogi realizes the spanda* principle, then he knows that this is his essential Self, and not the empirical, psychosomatic creature whom he had so long considered to be his Self. He has now broken his shackles and is truly free.”[ii]

Pretty cool, huh? I love when that happens. Moreover, though I had randomly opened to that page, I noticed that I had circled that particular verse, accented with arrows for emphasis, at some point when I first read the book around 1986. Here’s a photo.

Though the book was published in 1980, I gathered that I must have last read this during my 1986 stay in the ashram, then with Baba’s successor, Gurumayi Chidvilasananda. My clue: I had used a small photo of her as a bookmark I found elsewhere in the book. 

After this, I then meditated some more before lying down to contemplate myself to sleep. 

The adventure continues. Stay tuned…

Tom

*The above referenced Spanda principle is described in Spanda Karikas as follows: 

“A Yogi who closely observes his own (inmost) nature which is the Spanda principle recognized by means of the reasoning (already) mentioned, apprehends knowledge and activity as the presiding principle (meaning the principle that is the permanent Experient of all experiences [aka Shiva consciousness]) of life as the “I” pervading the normal consciousness even after meditation has ceased.”[iii]


[i]Chitshakti: Roughly translates as ‘conscious, self-aware pulsating energy’.

[ii]Spanda Karikas: The Divine Creative Pulsation by Jaideva Singh. © 1980 Motilal Banarsidass, Delhi. Pg. 70

[iii]Spanda Karikas: The Divine Creative Pulsation by Jaideva Singh. © 1980 Motilal Banarsidass, Delhi. Pg. 68

The Ice Cream Trike

It amazes me, sometimes, the way childhood memories long forgotten suddenly come to the fore of the mind after decades have passed. In this case, 56 or 57 years have passed, and out of the blue this morning, while enjoying a chilly Spring morning on my back porch, I remembered the tricycle I once rode. In that moment, I relived riding it on my childhood street of row homes, restricted to the sidewalk of the half on which we lived, and never permitted to cross the curb onto the asphalt. We lived on the side that was perennially in the shade, so I seldom experienced a day in the sun unless I was given permission to cross the street by my mom or an adult neighbor.

I distinctly remember the air, sky and atmosphere in those days seeming very clean and sparkling despite living in a section of South Philly that was surrounded by factories that belched out toxic fumes day and night to the extent that our neighborhood became one of the top cancer prone sections of the city. I was also too young to know that elsewhere in the world the detonation of nuclear test bombs was poisoning the air with radiactive refuse. Maybe that’s why it seemed so clean: the air was electrified.

I could still picture the trike. It looked like the ones in the photos here, and it must have been a Radio Flyer or Murray brand – I don’t recall which. It was gleaming, metallic red with white accents; a wide saddle seat of white vinyl with red striping; a wide platform step in the rear that straddled the two smaller back wheels, and a particularly large front wheel. It had one of those annoying, thumb operated bike bells that I used liberally, the sound of which was reminiscent of the one used by an ice cream vendor who drove his truck through the neighborhood streets on the warm days of Spring through early Fall. 

I remembered a game that I had created. I don’t know if I learned to do this from someone older, or if it was an imaginative idea I conjured at that young age. Whenever I was riding and encountered someone along the sidewalk, I would stop pedaling, dismount, grab the handlebars and then pull my tricycle backwards and upright, and rest the front handlbars with rubber grips on the ground. I recall it making the bike almost as tall as I stood, and somehow this gave me a feeling of power, of command over the elements. I’d then stand behind it while turning the pedals with one hand, ringing my thumb-bell with the other and yelling “Ice cream! Ice cream!” I pretended to be an ice cream hawker, imagining that I could make ice cream by turning the pedals. 

My friends didn’t judge or question this activity, but, without hesitation, would instead just join into the game as it was manifesting and promptly come over, put out their hands, and pretend to buy a cone of the good stuff from me. I would ask what flavor they wanted – a choice of only 3 flavors – Vanilla, Chocolate, or Strawberry. When they decided, I would crank the big front wheel with the pedals a few times, and then pretend to fill a cone and hand it to them in exchange for their imaginary money. I made a fortune in imaginary money that way by the time I was 5 years old!

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