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Monday July 2nd


>Yes, I take no stand under what you don't understand.
>
>Ed :)


I do not claim to stand over,
nor be under someone's standing,
as reality is only no other, under
which to stand or sit.

Over easy,
Dan





The following is from Wayne Austin's The End of the Search list:

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Sun, 01 Jul 2001
From: hrtbeat7@yahoo.com
Subject: San Francisco

"There's that cool Street Fair & Jazz Fest today on Filmore
in San Francisco!" Barbara reminded me, and so off we went to
the City by the Bay. After 2 hours of traffic and parking, we
were eventually within 8 blocks of the actually festivities,
which is pretty typical for a weekend in San Francisco. Once
there, we encountered about 40,000 fellow souls grazing the
tented booths, bandstands, and concessions spread out over
about a dozen closed-off blocks, and I flashed on Thierry's
recent visit to the Forum des Halles. After the requisite
stop at Starbucks for Chai, we meandered along with the
throngs on a lovely sunny Saturday in the city of my birth,
which I had only returned to a year ago after 25 years in
exile on the darker eastern coast of this continent. A
pleasant hour of browsing and hand-holding had passed when I
felt all the loud clamor and boisterousness of the festival
suddenly die away, and as I looked up, a very tall and
striking black man was bearing down on me, and what I heard
now can only be described as a low but growing mesmerizing
chant-like sound, and it seemed to be emanating from this
Rasta-Sufi dude who had walked right up to me by now, from
out of the crowd, and stood facing me. Our eyes were locked.
The sound was blowing my mind! His lips were not moving, but
the chant grew louder still, and then Barbara was tugging at
my shirt, but I was frozen on the spot, and so she muttered
"Oy Gevalt – there he goes!" and wandered over to a sweater
booth. My cells were now popping like corn kernels in a
cooker, and that ecstatic thrill of going up in flames was
rushing through my nerves. Eventually, I found my voice and
asked the guy: "What IS that?" He was quiet a bit longer, and
then looking away, started on with something about The Violet
Flame Mantra, and bring it into ourselves, and something or
other, but I interrupted: "No – What Is This?" He paused, and
returned my gaze again, and then his voice became like
velvet, and he said: "I am Jahmaal Usamah Tafari Israel, and
I Am That I Am". And then with his huge eyes growing
impossibly huger he asked: "And you?" Without pausing to
think I replied: "Yes, That!" And yet, behind my words, there
was only silence, now, and then that Silence reached up with
my arm and placed my hand on his heart, and simultaneously,
That reached up with his arm and placed his hand on my heart.
Do even angels enter heaven through this doorway of Love? If
so, it must be in the City of Love!

Ah, San Francisco –

You haven't changed that much!

John, are you familiar with What Book!?:

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0938077929/garinmichaudroge/102-1348291-5\
789731

Jerry

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