Otherwise What?-- Chapter 10-- Handing Over the Keys

    The Carpenter drove us back from Granada, all crammed into Marco’s compact car. Millan, and Cas squished into the backseat with Lila, Silvia and me, which added to the exhaustion of not having slept all night. Despite the tired buzz, I did not sleep until the evening.

Otherwise What? -Chapter 9 -Elvira

    Walking the mountain trails down to the village the next day, I assessed my inner landscape. The Vines being so near gave me a sense of homecoming. My tears shed there felt like a puzzle piece of my psyche nestling into place. I was even more unsure now if I would go visit Agus at all. The option of staying seemed like a cop out, though, like settling for a pre-fabricated dream rather than dreaming my own. My urge to go deeper into the wilderness was partly motivated by wanting to get away from craving Blondie’s attention, while deep down inside I knew I couldn’t escape a craving by changing geographical location. Silvia said I could move up to The Vines if I wanted, and help Yolanda with her sheep, learn about bees, and yoga. I decided to mull it all over for awhile. Plus, I wanted to fulfill the promise I had made to manage the Cafe the night of the Moon Fest.
    “What was it like up there?” asked Blondie when I got back. 

Otherwise What?--Chapter 8-- The Vines

    Silvia came to the Cafe while the coffee was still filling the upper portion of the espresso maker. She had a well-used daypack over her shoulder, and she started filling it with food, a loaf of olive bread, homemade plum jam, dried figs, a jar of tabbouleh with cucumber and chopped mint, two wooden bowls and two spoons. She put the goat cheese someone had given us the day before in a small widemouthed jar, four apples, and two liters of water from the tap on the counter. I assumed I was to carry that. Strangely enough, I was melancholic to be leaving Blondie for two nights, even though he probably wouldn’t notice I was gone.

Otherwise What?-- Chapter 7-- Lookout

    “Oh. By the way, Silvia. The Carpenter came by few days ago looking for you. He said Marco is coming to the Moon Festival.”
    “Marco! Yay! That’s wonderful. Thanks, honey. Hmmmm, if Marco is coming then I might have a favor to ask you.”
    “Anything you want.” I would be happy to do something for her, for a change. I gained so much just watching her do ordinary things.
     One of the things I learned from Silvia was to have personal rituals to keep me grounded spiritually throughout the day. This may have been the most valuable lesson of the entire summer-that spirituality, like morality, is not a spontaneous roll of thunder that nocks us from behind unawares. (Although this can happen too, I had found). It is a practice.

Otherwise What?-- Chapter 6-- In Love Against My Will

The simpler life got, the more I wondered at its complexity. I was happy, and still rather lonely. At least I had Lila to talk to. Running the Cafe with Lila, Silvia, was like paddling a canoe with perfect rowing partners, naturally switching sides to accommodate one another. Everything got much more complicated when Blondie showed up.

Otherwise What?--Chapter 5--Under Silvia's Wing

    Silvia was back when I returned from the cliff walk. She must have got in the night before, because it was still early in the day. She probably hadn’t done the four or five hour walk through the mountain trails in the dark, although you never know around here. That night was the new moon though, and without electricity, naturally we planned things around that.

Otherwise What? -- Appendices

Contents:

1. Key Features that Define Psychotic Disorders

2. Definition of Samadhi

Otherwise What?-- Chapter 4-- How I Came to Belong

   I slept great in the hay shed. With my lightweight sleeping bag zipped up all the way, and my cotton hoody lying open under my head, none of the itchy hay touched me. It was soft and comfortable. Morning light streamed between vertical slats of the wood walls, casting ivory stripes across the beige pile of hay, which stood almost as high as the roof, between me and the entrance.

Otherwise What? -- Chapter 3-- Into the Wilderness

  
    No one visited the Cafe while Lila was gone. Only hummingbirds, butterflies, and the noise of the traffic reached the terrace, although I watched many people from a distance as they crossed the scruffy field. It was a market day, which happens twice a week. Since there is so much to eat there, market days are quiet up here. Lila had brought me to the market on my first day in the village. That must have been four days ago already.

Otherwise What?--Chapter 2-- The Cafe

  
      I hadn’t looked in the mirror for a long time, probably since I landed in Spain. “How long has it been? Two, three, four weeks now?" The outhouse was spacious and had plumbing, a gravity-fed hose down low buy the enamel antique squat-toilet drain. The sink also had a faucet with soap where I was standing by the door, a faded wool blanket serving as a curtain. Over the sound of the cold water, re-directed from the stream which flows year-round from the melted snow of the Sierra Nevadas, was the roar of the highway. Each engine grew louder until it rumbled over the bridge crossing the stream and then faded until the next motor vehicle came, harassing the quiet of Nature. Seeing the outside of my body was just as jarring, contradictory to how I was feeling inside, far more vast than my skin.

(Click Read More to continue....)

Otherwise What?--Chapter ?--Arriving at Miguel's

This chapter is the second to last one in the book. In it the protagonist is on a flight back to the US. She is reminiscing about the first day of her trip two months prior, and is beginning to write some things down, (including the Introduction, which some of you may have already read.) Although this chapter belongs at the end, I am posting it first, because it gives a taste for how the story sets out.

All posts are subject to change and probable denial that they have anything to do with me whatsoever. For the record, all characters, as well as the plot, are entirely fictional. Many of the places really exist near Granada, in el Cabo de Gata, and the Alpujarra Mountains, Spain.

Beware, super-unedited still.....

Let me know what you think

:)

Rachael

P.S. You have to click "Read More"

Introduction and Chapter 1

INTRODUCTION

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Continue reading for detailed product description, or click now to download full Guide for the New Senses Handbook and latest software. This upgrade is free and compatible with all platforms.

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Otherwise What? - a novel

Among other things, on this blog you may read chapters of my first novel, Otherwise What?, while it is still in the process of being written.

Otherwise What?  is the fictional tale about coming of age in the paradigm of sacrifice. The pages are a light read, while addressing some of the complex concerns many of us face regularly in our lives: addiction, shame, creative angst, the challenge of integrating spiritual insights into habitual behavior, and relationship as initiation. The protagonist, a 21-year old recent college grad from the US, discovers, through her experiences with sex, drugs and flamenco music, many paradoxical challenges of being a privileged white female in the face of globalization, climate change, psychological breakdown, and internalized loss. Unexpectedly adopted into a squatted village in southern Spain, our narrator surrenders to become whole, finding through community, simplicity, and the arts, what so many people are running away from-  accepting that this is enough.

Feedback welcome :)

Enjoy!

Love,

Asra

Karuna

Karuna


When I reach for you
is it the you in my head?
You are not comfort.
You too are free, unheard of,
alone, all one
with everything.

When I am alone
I am with you more.
You too suffer the pressure,
of remembering
that you are,
yet you are not, your body.

The distance reminds me
you are changing,
fresh as this breath in my lungs,
exploring the unknown.
Who do you want as a witness?
Or are you beyond that now?

Is the urge to be together
still the longing to retreat?
Are we merely bisque pots,
shabbily holding each others smiles,
unfired by our own surrender,
unable to hold each others' tears?

Don’t look for me in memories.
You will not fine me there.
I am trembling along.
Can you remain connected
when you realize nothing is as it seems,
and yet it is what it is?

It gets stranger still;
the soul is uplifted when we worship God,
although we desire other people more.
Space is a farce.
All is present, and and artful,
waiting to be conceived.

You, who I want to be my best for, 
see me at my worst.
Can you tremble along with me?
If you want to watch,
you’re going to
need to show me.

Witness others,
as you would have others witness you.
Imagine me
grateful and awake,
loving the world,
receiving the self.

Perfection Alights

Who is more in touch with reality:
one who destroys their environment and doesn't care
or one who believes their body is the earth,
that they can control the weather?

Who is more crazy:
they who prescribe a medication to numb a syndrome they don't understand
or one who is non-compliant with a doctor's orders
and is paranoid about it?

Who is more afraid:
she who needs to love a man to feel whole
or she who will not love a man
until she feels whole.

When is he more alone:
when he changes who he is to connect with others
or when he reaches out for help
humoring his weaknesses?

How are you more powerful:
trying to control an expected outcome,
or being satisfied with the moment
accepting the situation?

What makes us strong:
money, status, taking credit for the blessings in our lives,
or giving thanks to the source of our inspiration and our ideas,
living with reverence? 

Why have we lost our way?
When we avoid what we fear,
we are creating that experience in the moment
instead of recognizing the perfection of it all.

Do you worry about appearing ridiculous?

Cha Cha cha
hub ba buh booooo
whooosh!  Low beats
dignified pines arching up
clouds moving across the moon
yet she is still there



Chilly billy blossom
belly
staring into each others' eyes
even though we are apart
Lu lu loss lozenge
what a strange word!


I cannot deny that
desire is
what causes me the most suffering
snow flames lungs
shhhh shhkassy sassy bass
still I'm mad butterflies about it


Cast vast shallow cow
nothing is more absurd
than wanting what is destroying me
shoot green shoot
tender
don't worry it's only love


Cranberry opp tone
ewe eew
how the hell do you spell female sheep?
that's about how worthwhile it is
to take responsibility for one's actions and not one's thoughts
like trying to type laughter


Anchored like a migrating goose
wise to the changes
lucky lurking
black string round my wrist
as a reminder
surrender happily into freedom of acceptance


Clowns never have to apologize
like politicians
and neglectful parents
seriously
snack less hike more
like you're not crazy too!


I still long for someone else to complete me
but it no longer makes me feel stupid
mending matters more than appearing ridiculous
loons on the lake
perfection up for grabs
out of thin air


Smog gum drops
static cling
Don't take humanity personally
we're addicted to what we want to hear
at the cost of feeling ok
trying too hard


Love is a dirty word
can you do it without saying it?
what's it with you?
chocolate?
central heating? switch-on lights?
shingle chalk bough


why not try it?
mason shant slant
cure the downward spiral
of taxpayer guilt
anything that doesn't cause harm
is less ridiculous than what we've been doing


Haleluyia fish
delicious
Exclamation
Nature knows what to do
Gasping writhing
the good fight can sometimes be embarrassing


Bad habits never end by getting your shit together 
change is something new
opening windows
gawking out
with the innocence of a child
higgle-dee pigle-dee in wonder

I am the one who can breathe underwater

I am the one who can breathe underwater


Beautiful music in last night’s dream
with lyrics so wild
my soul flowed again:
Don’t barter for my soul
with your needs
and call it love.

Displaced from the mind
by personal and collective conditioning,
I dive deeper
into the dark lake
of the unknown,
a gypsy in teal waters of feeling.

Love is not words.
Love is not a promise
to build a life where there will be enough
along a damned-up steam.
Love is not bribing each other
to stay together.

Love is not a hook,
a descending feeble white line,
the clawing pleasures of the ego,
attempting to latch
into the heart,
the desire to belong.

When you were mine
I needed to steal your love.
Now you are free,
and my heart is
like a wellspring.
I wonder if I ever knew you.

Letting go of language,
letting go of waiting,
letting go of the visions of happiness
that hurt, because they weren’t real.
Without the longing to be loved,
I can easily love you.

Of course I know what love is.
Everybody does!
I love you when I notice you, instead of
bartering for your soul
with my needs
and calling it love.

Laughing now, I remember
calling you baby
so you would touch me.
We were dealing in addictions,
bonding over the future
instead of eating the ripe fruit of now.

When there are no expectations,
there is nothing to loose.
I exchange my love for this moment,
vulnerable and new.
Now that what I feared has happened,
I know you better than ever before.

Don’t try to be consistent.
That's the ego’s strategy,
piling on heavy investments of
I love you’s,
on the lonely raft
upon the surface.

The idea of the other
is the booby trap of love.
I will never know you
if I expect you to stay the same.
See me change
or someone else will.

I don’t mean to threaten you.
I simply don’t want to choose
between life and love,
between being myself
and sharing myself.
I don't want to force you to.

I am the one who can breathe underwater.
I am the mysterious heart, dancing,
paradoxical and pure.
Like mixing colors,
the soul is meant to change
into what it delights in.

Releasing our fool’s gold
into the vast water
until we are light as forgiveness,
all I have to offer
is this honest, ineffable
awareness of now.

Honoring another culture

Sometimes I get so caught up in watering the plants, applying for organic certification and non-profit status for Darbar Farm and millions of other practical details, I forget to comment on the amazing wealth of this culture surrounding me. There are so many people who I find fascinating to pass in the street. So many impressive scenes in the rugged mountain landscape. So many puja shrines dripping with faith and color. So many fruits I've never seen, new words, gems of ancient wisdom.... Like the food here, Indian culture is spicy, diverse and very rich. I don't have much time to write, but here are a few pics of everyday kinds of things that make me pause inwardly and wish I was a better writer so I could compose some verse to render this countless glimpses of poignant beauty of ordinary life immortal.

News of the Week

building a road to mine stones from the property for use in building organic restaurant

hand made water storage tank for restaurant

front view of builing

hand-made frames for the Garhwali style murals I am working on

new puppy

This week things are flowing. We are still working on the becoming a certified organic farm, and we are also getting ready to start running our organic agriculture courses. We were not ready to run the April course, because we are still putting in the kitchen, bathroom and dormitory in the upper building. Hopefully they will be ready in time for the May courses.

I am so impressed with the work people do here. Besides the backhoe work we're having done, absolutely everything is done by hand. Even butting boards is done with hand tools. Stones are cut by hand and laid carefully and then covered with cement mixed by hand. The manual laborers and craft people here are really knowledgeable and talented at what they do. I am learning a  lot watching them work.

 Two exciting things that happened this week are: we adopted an adorable puppy who will be the guard dog of this place, and the surfaces are ready for the murals I am painting for the organic restaurant. I commissioned a carpenter to build the borders, and once again everything was done by hand, no machines, even cutting the boards at angles. I'm really into the local style of painting. It's beautiful, and it is an honor that my work done in the Garhwali painting style will be installed in a place where local people can see.

I am so swept up in the physical endeavors of getting a large project like this off the ground, it is sometime hard to remember that the true nature of reality and self are not as they seem. The outer world is like a dream full of meaning spinning a tale of the great spiritual forces at work behind the scenes. We should never take for granted anything in our lives. Everything is grace. There would be nothing without the universal forces that govern the universe. All the personal blessings and curses in our lives are how the gods try to teach us to evolve. With their help, we can achieve miracles. Because indeed life is a miracle. Everyone has a special fruit to bear. May it be so.

Good News-Keeping fingers crossed

Lawsuit seeks to invalidate Monsanto’s GMO patents

http://www.globalresearch.ca/index.php?context=va&aid=24103

 

 

Here is a video offering some more possitive news:

 

http://www.vandanashiva.org/?p=425