The period of mid-1973 to late '74 was particularly formative for me
and informed and imbued the rest of my life from there. A student at
CU-Boulder, and not much of one at that, I followed Mark Twain's lead
and never let my schooling interfere with my education.
It was in this period of my life that I discovered the beloved Swami
and many others, and the Bhakti path I was to take, and that I began
to massage – and to sing, ceaselessly; it was in this period of my
life that I would discover the Dances, and the Sufism which so
decidedly established my future, from which place I'm now telling
this in retrospect; it was at this juncture in time that I discovered
in this way, all the Bringers of light, of Dharma, and discovered Christ, and
found my own Teacher out of a marketplace full of 'em - the Coach I'd
prayed God to vouchsafe me.
I'd longed to be
pregnant with radiance, You may love a certain food
but you have to eat lots of it to get fat on it. So it is with light.
I wanted to be so full of this love I'd discovered, that I could
swallow all the world's darkness and shit out light.
Neither drugs nor grass nor booze played a role in my life. I was
stoned however, flat-out stoned on love. The only thing lacking was
a dime and maturity – and the latter comes with time, no security.
I worked at Ticos, washing dishes with joy and some soap – my
pupils were sometimes actually dilated. I'd show up giggling but always
on time and fit for work, my supervisor on the cook-line, a Pisces
named Jeff, looked me straight into those stoned eyes and asked if I
were showing up on the job drunk or on weed. I smiled and assured
him, I was drunk on love, just love, patting his arm. That was the
period of my wearing a wooly, multi-colored Morrocan jalabea everywhere,
my hair grown long, first beard, and passing out roses in the park,
washing and massaging feet – anyone's. The only beer I got soused
on was Bir Hanumana (strength of Hanuman). My beloved Swami
embodied that, and he was pregnant with radiance. All Great Ones are,
and I revered them - and I wanted to be pregnant with that radiance.
One fine early Spring mid-morning in '75 I guess, on The Hill just
off campus, I walked by Chuck's Grill, which was nearly empty. I
only wanted to use Chuck's restroom, which back then was the norm
without making a purchase. I just had to do a quick number-one and
leave.
On my way to that restroom I noticed this young woman of very
unremarkable form and features – let's be honest here, you would
have walked right by her. She was neutral and apathetic, also rather
dumpy, and that turned out to be because she slouched in the booth
where she sat alone, the only customer in the joint.
Because of this slouch, and her pullover sweater, it crossed my
Lucy-in-the-sky-with-diamonds optical-perception, that: she
might be pregnant. To this day, I don't know what took hold of me -
but after I'd left the restroom instead of heading straight for the
door leading out, I swung by her booth and with my right hand gently
on her shoulder and my left gently on the hump of her belly, on the
pullover of course, I asked her with sincere elation and warmth, “When?...“
As in, "when's the date, O mother-to-be?" She did not
call the cops, she did not make a scene, she did not
say, "WTF – you some kinda goddam smart-ass? Get away from me
you freak!" She did not react angrily or even look hurt or
burst into tears at this otherwise seemingly insensitive cruelty.
The fact was, she was not remotely in the family way, she was
just frumpy. She had a gut on her. So?
Not a word passed between us, her eyes registered bewilderment, to
which my eyes registered "Oh shit, you're not pregnant?"
then, "OMGdess, I fucked up, am I a schlemiel!" I muttered a
genuine "sorry, I thought..." but outside of that it went all
without words. And then something happened. She got it, and her
face brightened up at the idea, and my face brightened up again and
for that moment gazing at each other, she had the radiance of
someone pregnant with life inside her. So she was in that moment
pregnant with radiance.
Then we both laughed, just a sweet, tender, ever so human laugh,
shared in love between two total strangers under quite comical
circumstances. I collected myself and nodded goodbye, headed for the
door. One last look over my shoulder and a wave: that woman watched
me from her booth, still smiling and still glowing, sitting a tad
straighter there, and I have no recollection of her voice, as not a
word had been shared, it was all through the eyes.
These drunken eyes, pregnant with radiance.
