Adventures in India

This is an open journal of some of the things I see and think about while trying to find a place to live in India. It may or may not be interesting. I make no promises.

Friday, April 15, 2005


April 12th, 2005 Chennai, Dashprakash Hotel

There is a lot of blessing going on here in India. Temple priests bless you during puja. An old beggar woman invokes Jesus's blessing when you give her 10 rupees (25 cents). Babas bless you on the banks of the Ganga because you look so tired and lonely, and those bastards are so full of cosmic joy they're busting to give it away.

I think it is all a trick; there is no transference, no real transmission. A blessing is a ruse meant to re-direct your attention to the truth of your beauty.

It is like complimenting a beautiful rose in someone's lapel. The person looks down and is startled by the forgotten bloom. But the compliment didn't create the flower, nor put it in the button hole.

A blessing reminds us of how impossibly full the Cosmos is. It makes us look up with a delighted smile and say, "Ah".

A blessing completely transforms by not doing a thing.

I like the custom in the West of blessing someone after a sneeze, but this tradition could be expanded:

Bless someone when they fart,
or cry.

Bless someone when they cum,
or fall.

And why stop at people?

Bless the rock in your shoe,
the frog in your throat,
the bee in your bonnet,
the bug up your butt.

Bless the top gun,
the third wheel,
the underdog,
the lame duck.

Be sloppy with your blessings.
Be muddy and moist.
Smear them on the glass late at night,
then lick them off before dawn.

Write obscene blessings on the bathroom wall.
Send pornographic blessings in the mail, and include
your return address.

Fold up tiny little blessings into white cranes
and leave them in trees.
Put a secret blessing in a bottle and throw it in the sea.

After you pour out all the blessings your heart contains,
shatter the cup.

Savor the majesty of the lips that come to drink then.


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