RAM. Sada Shiva Dam. Amsterdam, June ‘24

RAM.

June ‘24, Amsterdam

“There is no religion higher than the truth.” – H.P. Blavatsky

“Abuse she is accustomed to. Calumny she is daily acquainted with.

At slander she smiles in silent contempt.

De minimis non curat lex.”

– H.P. Blavatsky, London, October 1888

You are just a pair of Hokas. 

You are broken beyond repair.

Why are you even reading this?

Why are you here and now, in this moment?

Ask yourself.

Why do you continue to do this?

You are nothing.

So am I.

The whole thing is rigged, and we are all on a rat’s wheel, feeding the aspects of the invisible world with our energy, time, and attention.

That’s what it is.

LOVE.

There is just one thing.

33 seconds?

LIE.

Is it your heart leading or the body or mind?

If it was the spirit, you’d just chill down.

There is nowhere to go, nothing to do.

Nothing to achieve.

You already are everything you could have been.

You can’t merge with the other for something that exists only inside of you.

These pathetic attempts, driven purely by desire, lead to unhappiness and despair.

It’s ridiculous.

I miss you. I don’t miss you.

Missing what exactly?

You are perfect; so am I.

We all want attention and proof that we are right.

What if I am wrong about everything?

Do I really need to wait until my next life or deathbed to find out?

Look in the mirror. 

Look closely: THIS IS NOT YOU.

This is not how you look.

This is not who you are.

This is not your life.

And the joke is on you.

Why did you come here?

Weren’t you happy where you were?

Why did I come here?

What is this under my skin?

Cute but lethal.

Watch it.

Observe attentively.

There is an ashram two hours away from Amsterdam.

Sada Shiva Dham.

There is no Shiva.

Shiva is NO-THING.

Nothing special—like you and I.

Nothing, but everything.

What a paradox.

I’m building a case against reality.

Clinging to the past diverts my attention from important things in my life.

But what are those, exactly?

There are NO important things in my life because there is NO-THING that matters whatsoever.

There is just this present moment, when I am eating truffle chips and venting on paper to some pathetic illusion in my head.

I love myself.

That’s not an illusion.

The telenovela in my life definitely is.

God.

He is laughing and crying, watching this.

It’s Saturday.

Calm down.

Get some food.

Let’s numb this feeling—of despair, of feeling abandoned, broken-hearted, neglected, and unrecognized.

You think this is love?

This is ATTACHMENT, my child.

Conditioning.

Goats on the mountain.

Part of the landscape.

Widen your perspective.

I practiced today.

I prayed.

This is what matters.

Or does it? Are you certain?

I create my universe while this pen glides on paper.

All is sacred.

All is love.

Paper is patient and kind and does not judge.

How can I jump higher?

I’m surrounded by bullshit.

My environment is not good enough; not tailored enough.

Listening to Rupert Sheldrake, I realize how limited my imagination is.

I’m going to the Ritman Library.

My Guru is in my heart.

Why am I even in Amsterdam?

To pretend what exactly?

What would it mean to live to my full potential?

Why can’t I be like Travis Pastrana and jump off a plane with no parachute?

JUMP.

Just f* jump.

I can’t be hiking now, or immersing my hands in my perfect golden hair.

I’m not on the mountain, and my head is shaved.

There is a plan that I am fulfilling here.

This is all karma, dharma, and my own doing.

What a joke.

I am not even here.

This notebook is not here.

And neither am I.

Why be upset then?

What if Jesus is not real either?

And the devil?

How about magic?

Magic is very f real.*

I am just IMPATIENT.

I’m just going to eat Skittles and chill, spend a cool day in Amsterdam, observe my patterns and systems and drown my sorrows in Coca-Cola looking at the sky and swearing at my Masters.

They have eternity, and so do I.

Clearly, I have not surrendered fully.

Clearly, there is some more breathing to do.

“You mean nothing to me.”

Nothing = zero = SHIVA = everything.

I bow to you every second, my Lord.

In all my tears, you are present.

With every breath, I chant your name.

I am blocking my own view.

In order to see God, I have to remove myself.

There is only place for one.

Vivi, get yourself out of the way.

I am fed up with this movie in my head.

Cheap Turkish telenovela of poor quality.

How about I sing?

Pray?

Love?

Draw?

Touch?

It’s all about hands and how to merge with the spirit and dance the cosmic madness of Shiva, suspended in nothingness.

I’m gonna write until my hand falls off.

Keep breaking your heart, young lady, so more light can get in.

We are ONE.

There is no separation.

You are just a thought.

Additional Links & References:

• Sada Shiva Dham – Ashram near Amsterdam.

• Svaha Yoga Amsterdam – Where Gösta teaches.

• Who is Gösta? – Svaha Yoga teacher profile.

• Mahavatar Babaji – Master Imram’s video.