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Pastimes : Metaphysics and Spiritual Practices -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Harmattan who wrote (138)	11/16/1997 6:40:00 PM
From: Jane Hafker	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 650

My dear G-hunk. Truly we were destined to mind-meld on the great highway of the soul. Ramakrishna. God-intoxicated. If indeed he ever did live, which I wish to believe that he is not the figment of someone like mine's imagination, indeed. And I paraphrase a quote from him I did not write down, nor would I ever try to find again, "the mind is either like the fly or the butterfly. The butterfly goes only to sweet roll or the flower. The fly goes also to the sweet roll, the flower and dog droppings. To the fly it is all the same." Indeed his was the mind of the butterfly, if not the mind of St. Francis, just not on the same wavelength. For the life of me I cannot remember a single instance where he did hear the message of the Son of God, however, and rejected it for something else. That I didn't look for and don't remember. Or that it is said he would not go into a room with a newspaper because of the wordliness and ungodliness written on it. And when it is said that in a fit he threw himself to the floor out in the jungle somewhere and beat his fists and kicked his feet because his idea of God would not manifest and he felt that he was unworthy anyway. Ramakrishna is probably the reason I got saved. The guy who led me in prayer was the only other human I ever met who was as heavy into Ramakrishna as I was, and even up to the night of my converstion he had kept a strange little altar with a picture of what we believe to be Ramakrishna and what was believed to be the "holy mother", and when I saw his little altar, I remember saying to him, "O.K. I just got busted in the cosmic realm, and I know I have to listen to you." The reason I said that was when I looked at the altar I literally felt a little divine thud go off in my brain. I realize now writing it that my mind was literally blown. By the next afternoon he had torn it apart and put it away, and he said that he knew why he had kept it there, because it had been waiting for me. It was not really, really spiritual and religious dialogue, "I just got busted", just the nitty gritty of where you're going on a god trip. But, real or unreal, even now I have a very soft spot in my heart for Ramakrishna, if indeed he ever lived, which I never had any proof of whatsoever. But I did want to go to Dakshinwar, work in a kitchen there, and wait. Is that heavy enough for you? I do so hope so. I hope that will make you as happy as your poem did me.