Longchenpa Ceremony, Laughter to Break the Cycle of Madness

A look back at the roots of Tibetan Buddhism; a story to shed light on the need for laughter to break the cycle of madness. From Tibetan kings and the tantric master Padmasambhava to a ceremony in Berkeley, where Buddhists chant for 50-hours in honor of Lonchenpa and the "Ancient Ones."

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Montserrat Abbey, Behind Closed Doors

According to an Arthurian legend, the Holy Grail is tucked away at the Benedictine abbey, Santa Maria de Montserrat. Whether the legend is true, one can only speculate. But whether Montserrat is a special place, filled with beauty and spirit, I can confirm.

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SOAR TO NEW HEIGHTS, A MESSAGE OF PEACE

He said soar to new heights and sing your song of joy, of peace, of hope; stand on top the mountain and shout this message of love; speak of happiness and triumph; tell everyone we are the dawn to erase the night; we are the ones sent to create goodness, to join nations, and to cross over to the other side. He said to make this known; to sing out in benediction, and to praise all things holy.

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A Love Letter to You, and to Her, My Love

I let the night come with thoughts of the day lingering, imagining this leap being made with You and her together. I see the light begin to shine - the other side calling: an invitation. To Arabia we will journey; and to her world I will enter, and I will see what life was like, and what shaped the woman I love. With trepidation and excitement, I breathe in the night, knowing the day will come when they will see, and we will know our glory, for we will be One.

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Venice Wandering, an Excerpt in Cynicism

I returned from Nepal. The night was swept away and the following day disappeared into oblivion. With thoughts of home, I walked from the marina and into the city, wandering steps, a ghost-like search in Venice and Abbot Kinney. There was still the beat from distant lands. It carried me down Lincoln Boulevard, the Niligiri Himal in my wake, the expansive, white peaks biting at the blue blanket above.

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God and 15 Months of Blessed Homelessness

For fifteen months, I have been blessed with "homelessness." Read my thank you letter to the generous hosts who opened their doors, and see the chronology of fifteen months with God on the road. "Come to me, and you will find yourself."

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A Gift from THE DESERT ROSE

For days it seems THE NIGHTINGALE has been asleep. With all the beauty, with all the sites and grandeur, he has lost scent of THE DESERT ROSE. He wanders from dawn to dusk, from sunrise to sunset. He wanders with the crowds. He wanders down the usual paths and sees the things he's supposed to see. But within him there's a different voice. 

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Hagia Sophia

Stepping inside Hagia Sophia is stepping inside history. Meaning 'Holy Wisdom' or 'The Wisdom of God,' Hagia Sophia was first an Eastern Orthodox cathedral and seat of the Patriarch of Constantinople. In its nearly 1500 years of existence, the building has been burnt down and rebuilt twice. It has also been converted twice, once from Eastern Orthodox to Roman Catholicism; once from Catholicism to Islam, being made a mosque in 1453.

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A Prayer Inside the Blue Mosque, Istanbul

I arrive in Istanbul and catch the last ferry to Kadiköy on the Asia side. It's a literary, artistic neighborhood away from the more touristic areas. My room is small. The bed is hard. Noise from the street enters through an old window. People talk and drink at cafes and bars outside. Tobacco smoke is in the air. Water pipes bubbling. Cars, taxis, and motorbikes honking, weaving down Moda Street.

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First Scent of THE DESERT ROSE

Milk and honey flow from the distant mountains. The stream gouges a valley and floods the heart. THE NIGHTINGALE waits calmly in a patient slumber. He is alone and the shadow is long. He catches the first scent of his Love. He lifts his head. He looks up and all around. He has heard, and his tender heart begins to beat faster and faster

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The Ocotillo Was No More

I stopped my car somewhere between the Mojave and Colorado Deserts. I crossed the double yellow line and walked toward myself. I saw a tall ocotillo cactus standing alone under a blanket of blue. There, holding Jacob's staff was an old man who stood still staring at its red flowers. They shook anxiously in the wind. He asked me: From where did the wind come, and to where will the wind go?

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The Artist Von Paul

This man -- Von Paul -- finished his education after the eighth grade. He told us he had to begin work, so he became a plumber. After many years, he was told that he was too old and too slow. He was fired. One day his granddaughter came home from school with a drawing of a mandala. "You can make these," she told her grandfather

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