Source Text

It didn’t matter; there was only one certainty: These beings were my true blood, my eternal soul-bonded tribe, and I’d been with them forever. My love for them was endless and always had been.

There were about eighteen to twenty people, mostly around my age; we watched an excerpt from a film about “The Day of the Heart” (September 16, 1979), which evoked a profound, spontaneous, totally unexpected response in me. Da Free John’s voice had such a depth of profundity that it seemed to be speaking from a place far beyond this plane of existence. I bought a copy of a book called Conversion, later released as Compulsory Dancing, and remained in an ecstatic devotional state for days afterward.

For the next two years, we spent most weekends around his ashram, which was often a wild and crazy place. An evening would begin with us all sitting in the main hall while Swamiji (his common title) meditated on a slightly raised dais. Music was always playing in the background. He liked synthesized and classical Indian music with no vocals. We would sit, eyes closed, and either use the meditative practices he taught or do our own thing.

The parties were mostly great fun. Swamiji enjoyed flaming Drambuie as his signature drink and often drank insane amounts of alcohol, as we all did. We danced endlessly without any formal style. He always controlled the music and managed the mood masterfully. Music and dancing were a huge part of his meditative process.

was lying in one of the many guest beds late, after a mad celebration night, and awoke to find Swamiji rummaging around the wardrobe draws. I asked him in a perplexed voice what he was looking for. “There was a girl here, did you see her? A very nice dakini type; I think she took a pair of my silk underwear.” I was annoyed with the whole event. “Swamiji, if you are enlightened as you claim, why are you messing around, having sex with dakinis, and worried that they will steal your silk underpants? “ He broke into a characteristic giggle. “Oh. Yes, yes. There is always a part of me way beyond all of this, always.” I could see his arm stretched and pointing to infinity. He left the room still giggling. To me, all the sexual activity was a side issue; I was much more interested in the esoteric elements of his expression. Most people who came to the ashram were not; he told me he gave people what they wanted.

This was different; they were to be done as the first and most tangible form of spiritual practice and covered all avenues of activity. I transitioned quickly from LMI One to LMI Two, which included the commitment to practice the basic disciplines. The disciplines were: Vegetarian diet Service to the institution Keeping regular work Supporting the institution with a percentage of earned income A committed sexual relationship or celibacy Daily study and keeping an insightful diary A regime of calisthenics and exercise in the morning and yoga and pranayama in the evening (this was part of a constant bodily practice called conscious exercise). Sunday was reserved for retreat and formal gatherings. It was a demanding but happy time. I felt as if I was finally involved in a true growth process. I worked two jobs for a while and had the luxury and novelty of spare money. The Way became everything for me. I lived and breathed it and was not interested in anything else.

Student practice from 1984 to 1987 was the happiest, healthiest (zero addictions, pure diet), and most demanding (the perfect practice period) to that point of my life.

Siddha means perfected or completed one; in Adidam and Siddha yoga schools, it also refers to a Transmission Guru or Master. Something subtle is given from Guru to disciple, and in Adi Da’s case, what is Transmitted is Happiness or what he calls Love-Bliss. This happiness fills the heart center and the whole front of the body in a downward descent. Happiness is emotive, joyful, feeling-potency, or fullness. There are Shakti-force and potential effects of all kinds, but infilling happiness at heart is the Guru’s primary gift.

She told me Adi Da was extremely particular in his shaving and shaved twice daily with Gillette Mach 3 razors only, which he used only once. I was shocked to hear this. The green alternative part of me thought, what a waste! But then I visualized devotees using those discarded razors in the traditional manner of Guru-Prasad.  Now if you are not familiar with this tradition, it may sound a little bizarre, but that is the way it is around the Guru.

These same currents also stimulate a great deal of illusionary mind. Without a Guru or Teacher who has gone through and transcended (meaning has seen the limitation of these states and their associations), all manner of delusion is possible (and this can be seen clearly as well). Pleasurable conductivity (meaning an unbroken flow or current ) is native to the body and living things; without deep bodily bliss readily available and at least relatively constant in the body-mind, the world and life appear devoid of real sustenance, and we are always hungry and addicted to any pleasurable source. The most universal means of contacting these internal blissful energies is by listening to and performing ecstatic chants in a religious context. Everybody who has or does this knows its potency and very simple mindless pleasure.

AI Summary

Walking Out of Samsara by Martin Goulding presents key insights from the Adi Da tradition. The 10 passages above capture the essential teachings.

Core Themes:

• [To be expanded]

Key Passages: Highlights 1, 3, and 10 are particularly representative.

This entry was generated from Readwise highlights. Expand with additional context as appropriate.