FOR A LARK

Buck this. For a lark. And that.

And the other

Sudden realization came to him that the more he rejected the more space was created

And more freedom could enter his heart his head. Pores

And then he could flow like an unimpeded river down the slopes of the mountain of life

So he started

Whenever something came to him he accepted it. As in. Buck this. Let it be

If he failed at something he said Buck it obviously set my sights too high for the time being. Accepting his condition. His reality of the time

After a while he came to a point where he thought Wait a minute if I reject everything and all that I know to be true what would be left of me ?

He stopped for a while, got concerned, but and he understood that HE wasn't anything anyway he too let go of that so that one day there was really nothing left of him. He was nothing. Noone and nowhere. His head could have spun

But didn't

In fact he felt as limpid and beautiful as a rockpool

Like he could see himself in it and there was absolutely nothing to look at

Not even a ripple

Just the light of the sun and the added joy of knowing he was now free. To go. Fly. Take off. Do whatever he wanted to do

From a place of emptiness

For a while he had been concerned about the past. His old loves. Attachments. The way he had been

For a while he too thought about the fact that he had to review his previous visits here in the land of men. All the wrongs and rights of his previous incarnations

Then he just laughed at it all

Why should he believe in all that ? Why remain a prisoner of the past. That was only his conscious effort to remember which had kept him in chains. His own gold-linked creations

So he looked at it all one more time and put it where it truly belonged. In the dustbin of the past and then he let it go back up to the heavens saying thank you no need for that now

Then he was free and as light as a bird. No. Lighter

He had no body, no memory, no nothing.

He moved around aimless for a while, a little lost it must be said like a bored angel or a skinless doe and let the winds of life carry him where he would finally arrive with maybe something to do

Or not

But there was

As he found out

And this is what this story is about. What happened to him when there was nothing left of him. And where he got to. As a non-person. A new freed-up being

Johnny Ayurvedic his name

Forgot

Anyway what's in a name when there is nothing left inside

Like a smudge of paint on a morning pavement. Little bit of rain would see to that

Where he got to there was little rain. Up on the Altiplano; the high high plateaux of Peru

Up in a cave for a while kind of tucked away from the world to finish his transformation. From a jack to a queen kind of deal

Queen of his own heart

Then he went out stretched his limbs like a renegade cat and thought Time to pounce on this here unsuspecting world

But delicately like a puma of Love. To scratch but not to scratch

Or without being seen. Without leaving a mark. And certainly never gashing

He was the white puma of the altiplane and moved around coyly

He walked around the land for a while in search of like minded people he could share his discoveries with

Then he understood that there was no need. They would come up when the time was right whenever that all was

For the moment he could work alone whilst knowing that one never really is, that the watch is constant, that everyone always knows everything

Where he was; what he was doing

He crossed a few borders, moved around the continent stealthily and found himself on the beaches of Northern Chile

There on the beach he talked to the waves and the waves instructed him. Now he was empty he could learn. He remained there for a while, slept on the beach, his only furniture the bleached head of a buffalo or somesuch creature. He couldn't tell by the skull

He'd sleep all night with a huge fire roaring by his side and in the daytime swim in the ice cold ocean and talk to the waves

The cave and the waves took two years of his life and then he was really ready

Dolphins popped up from time to time and winked at him. He could have sworn

Then he moved back inland, crossed the Cordillera and winged his way to Brazil

When he got there he knew he had arrived

That it was his destination. Where his celestial roots would sink. High and low

In Brazil he met those people he had so long wanted to meet. The ones who'd come with him at some remote time in the past. Where and when he did not really care; just the fact that he knew who they were was sufficient, a boon in itself

With them he set to work

With them he knew exactly what to do

At first he worked with energy solely, rearranging this and that, a willing conduit for higher forces

In the State of Parana then up on the coast, North of Bahia in a village that was now his community

And then he became a schoolteacher in the village; instructing the local children and the ones who had come, knowing it was the place for them

Their parents in tow, sometimes unaware of why it was that they were there

Sometimes well aware

He remained there a long long time. His hair a mane of pure whiteness, like a feline on the edge of a large jungle, the Amazon of trees, the green lung of the continent, the feeder and mother, the chlorophyll mother of them all

In Bahia he came, hung around and disappeared like a cloud of smoke

Holy and pure

In Bahia he became who he was and always had really been

In Bahia

In

...