Kitzbuehel, Krimml, Pertisau 2006 - Chennai 1976



Seven p.m., my Mimamai just is finishing her job; she closes her little hut and sold enough strawberries today. She is happy to work, I'm happy to travel.

My third night ahead in the belly of Mima's VW-Transporter, her ''Seacow''. After two sun burning days in the Alps tonight black clouds of a thunderstorm pile up over the mountains. The Seacow in the summer sun has collected 40 degrees Celsius heat inside. The Camping Place Schwarzsee near Kitzbuehel is a silent, comfortable place. The song of the birds can easy compete with the sound of the trains Salzburg Innsburg.

In my job as editor of our Computer Magazin it's so easy, to sit and surf around in the Cyber World. It's so easy, to provoke some Holy or Political Group Leaders. It's so easy, to get banned from these EGO- and reputation protective people. But it's hard, to stand this never ending blabla of friendly nothing.

The reality on the streets and in the mountains is different. Thursday is a public holy day, Corpus Christi. The sun burns merciless. My senses, my body are not used, to spend a day outside in the sun.

Several times I protect my skin with sun cream. The first cold mountain lake in the morning helps, to cool my body down. I cross the border to Austria. This part of Austria is Tirol, capital of Tirol is Innsbruck.

In St. Johann I park the car and explore the scene. After church people play music in traditional clothes and celebrate old military tradition from past centuries.

Finally I start to walk up slowly the next mountain. The name is ''Horn of Kitzbuehel''. Kitzbuehel is the name of the next village, 13 Kilometres from St. Johann.

On each bench in the shadow my body asks to sleep 10, 15 minutes. A mountain lake after several hours walk refreshes my body again. Only the dogs of some walkers take their bath with me in this lake. With the wet bath trousers under my hat I protect my head against sun stroke. This helps.

The tourist industry floods much money for the people in Tirol. When you park your car, you have to pay. But camping cars have to leave these parking places at night.

Even to swim in the mountain lakes you have to pay entrance. But I have always found a place, where I could swim for free.

For 15 minutes Internet connection I pay two Euros. Because I don't find a place to stay in the wilderness, I drive to the Camping Place in Kitzbuehel: Black Lake.

Friday I take my bike, admire this marvellous mountain village Kitzbuehel and try to drive up a little street to the Alpenhouse (www.alpenhaus.at). Cars have to pay 5 Euros, every person in the car 1.5 Euro plus - but bikes are free.

Young people bike all the way up, I walk and push the bike by my side. The ''Alpenhaus'' is 1670 Meters above, from there only one hour more to the ''Horn of Kitzbuehel''. Radio and TV Tirol broadcast from this mountain.

After 10 hours I return to the Camping Place, change my mountain boots with bath sandals and have dinner after my bath in the black water.

When I come back to the car, the thunderstorm starts. Such life I feel as real. Mima has difficulties, to understand the calculation in her job. Maybe I need to drive back, when she needs my help.

Saturday I relax from the 10 hours mountain walk. I explore by bike this splendid rich Kitzbuehel. Most spots of the Camping Place are reserved for all year camping trailers.

In the city the 100.000 Euro car drivers, old men with young women, drive around. There are splendid restaurants with high price food. Even the super market sells bottles of costly French wine above 200 Euro per bottle.

I buy excellent food for my day to rest. And I enjoy this silent day. From the Camping Place I bike with bath trousers to the black water moor lake and swim two times.

For a short half hour Internet Connection I have to pay three Euros, and finally I'm happy to leave in southern direction to the Gerlos pass.

In Mittersill I rest beside a little lake in a park. People celebrate solstice with fires on the mountain heights. There are two tents with music, one for the elder another for younger people.

The thunderstorm comes. I find shelter from the rain flood and flash in a little caffee. There I don't have to pay at all for the Internet Connection!

After dinner I walk a short hour uphill to the Mittersill Castle. Group of Christians from the U.S., from Great Britain and Finland have booked this marvellous place for conferences all coming week.

Mimamai is successful in her hut with the calculation, she reports on the phone. So I can continue my little voyage.

The two days on the marvellous Camping Place in Black Lake at Kitzbuehel cost 35 Euro. To stand in the wilderness in the middle of this summer feast in Mittersill, to listen to the music from the tent and to the voices of people around Mima's ''Seacow'' is a little more adventurous - and louder too.


The Monster VW-T-5-Transporter

In Kitzbuehel I ask a public Bus-Driver with a monstrous VW-Transporter. He tells, that this is the strongest 174-Horse Power Diesel Engine with 4-wheel drive. The immense weight of the 6.000 Kilogramm vehicle is carried by two back axles. A compressor provides air for the suspension and the opening of the doors.

But the gears are not changed for this vehicle. So nothing real fits with this car. Many times the mechanics have to repair the monster. VW has finished all guarantees, because these modifications by a Yugoslavian Company are not in any technical specification.

The bus driver guesses, that some authorities are bribed, to order this monster VW Transporter, who doesn't work properly.
 



The Monster T-5-Transporter


Strange, how old I feel sometimes! My memories flash back, when my wife and I baptized our daughter. We travelled to the priest in the Austrian mountains, where I have worked as shepherd 1972 and 1976 in three months summer seasons. Must be the year around summer 1980, before we all three, the little ''un-holy'' family travelled to my life experience, to experience life with Master Bhagwan.

This summer 1980 we had three days in the mountains. I was not much motivated, to baptize my daughter, but I was highly motivated to climb the mountains.

So in all these three days I climbed three different high mountains - and was not afraid of the burning sun, and I did not get a sun stroke these days.

The priest was angry, when I returned late in the afternoon, too late, because he wanted to teach us, the parents about our responsibility of ''Christian Upbringing''. I only laughed at him, I knew him since my very early childhood, when I was five years old only. And my parents travelled each day again in this little Austrian valley, Navis above Matrei at Brenner, where I worked later as shepherd.

And before I travelled on an ancient scooter with my first wife Elka 1972 to Morocco, Africa, the priest has cut off my long, long, dense blond hair, Rastafarian style. In those days Morocco frontier police have prohibited long haired Hippies, to enter their country and send them back.

So summer 1980 I climbed three mountains in three days. This summer I climb one peek in three days.

More my memories travel back 30 years ago, when I travelled the long arduous journey by public transportations, bus, trains, bullock-cars, rickshaws... all the long way to Madras, more than 7000 Kilometres away from Munich! I was 28 years old, have failed all my studies, my carreer I had destroyed, I was addicted to drugs like Marihuana and later alcohol too.

And I wanted to know about ''peace of mind'' and other Eastern ''Items'' and promises; I got these expectations from books of all kind of holy men, who had inspired my fantasy.

In the mountains i.e. I have read 1972 the ''Tibetan Book of Death''. And with these fantasies plus scriptures of western Indian travellers a generation before mine like Hermann Hesse, I was highly convinced, to find in India a key to all, what I was missing: ''peace of mind''.

More I was convinced, that drugs like Marihuana could help, to ''see the light''. And travelling all the long way to India by train, writing my daily report like I write this now in the middle of the night on my palmtop, I could buy on my first goal after several days of train journey in Istanbul a big peace of Marihuana for ''good price''. Around 600 pages I still have at home from this half year long journey 1976 to India. I title this ''book'' of my broken experience: ''The school of a beggar''.

In all my mental errors, more my mental insanity, this was the only career I could imagine: a beggar! And somehow I imagined with this beggar the life of a Buddha, who didn't care for anything else but ''spiritual growth''.


So I met in Jeeva's home town Madras, in these days 1976 nobody had in mind the name ''Chennai'', I met a messenger of Maharesh Mahish Yogi, and my instincts found out with my specialised way, to provoke people, in the first evening, that this messenger, this teacher of ''Meditation'' was even a worse kind of idiot, I felt myself these days. I still feel the same till today sometimes.

My proofs for this experience with my first Indian Meditation teacher of ''Transcendental Meditation'' I have still in this big book, my travel report ''the school of a beggar''.


Jeeva


Recovering from this tremendous failure of my first ''Indian Pilgrimage'', like I mock today about my life failures, and only in these failures my EGO starts breaking, melting, crushing, recovering 30 years ago as shepherd in the Austrian Mountains Navis, I connected somehow to a more sane way of life: all alone with my brothers and sisters of the animal life, goats, calf and wild animals of the mountain too, all alone I found a deeper wisdom and a more sufficient health in Mother Nature than in all these -sorry dear readers - these BULLSHIT SCRIPTURES and LECTURES! F*ck' em all!

My G*D, what an old fool I am now! My young friend Jeeva from Chennai-Madras, who is in my mind many times on this little Austrian journey in Mima's VW-Transporter, her ''Seacow'', my young friend Jeeva is now in this burning age of desires I remember only in memory now - not in my cells, my hormons, my body.

Mimamai, my woman at home, calls me up, and all is fine, and she is my basics, my earth ground, my warder of my life, who cooks, cleans, washes and earns her own money, and I use her car, she has bought from 10 years life together with me, and the simple wooden equipment I have paid - at least nearly half the price of the car - and after all my lessons with women, all these four and more Bhagwan sannyas women, who send this Master of Master's to teach me, where I am taught in my desire for love, sex and attention, there I finally start to trust my little, lovely Mimamai in a similar way, like I trust my little, lovely daughter, and this way is UNCONDITIONAL!

Bhagwan, what is Bhagwan for an idiot of western, german conditioning, what is a Bhagwan for me?

Bhagwan worked on me with the women, who are more sensitive to his divine connection to the ultimate than I am.

Ma Anand Saroja, my second wife, mother of my little, lovely daughter, Ma Vimal Prem, free lancer now and editor, Ma Deva Madira, converted in our years of life together from Christ to Rajneesh religion and now since 10 years this very simple earth bound and grounded divine messenger: Ma Veet Mimansa [beyond analysis], the accepting queen of my stubborn drunken head!

How old I feel these days, by existential lessons, the only way could ever teach me, ME, the SUPER-ALL-KNOWING-BETTER-EGO, until I can cry my tears either in a hospital pillow or in the lap of my life connecting and guiding women!

This solstice celebrating night in Marvellous Village, I have forgotten the name in my drunken night, this solstice celebrating simple people in a little village remind me on my burning desires for the opposite gender! And after my first marriage and sexual healing experiences 1971, the year Jeeva was born in Madras-Chennai India, after these real life love connections I couldn't console and satisfy my sexual desires with masturbation anymore.

Addicted to the real thing, the body exchange of energies, I either had to find a willing woman or had to continue my restless search.

All mind masturbating books, lectures are nothing compared with this all body massage, to break my muscle armour in love making - and melting hers this way too. That was my life, love teaching, the school of the women!

This night I have parked Seacow at the side of the feast tent, where young people after this cold winter, with snow still in the height, where young people dance all night.

My old stupid mind has forgotten the name already of the village, this marvellous village, where this summer feast hammers with two different styles of music in two tents closed to each other, old fashioned and young disco style, and again, and again I wake up from the sound of the music, and my glass of red wine can't help my sleep, and I have to stand up and walk to the tents, crowded with young people sweating in closed dance together and my memories comes back: ''Yes, that was me, searching for satisfaction, cherchez la femme, decades ago, when one has left, to give place for my next teacher of my body-heart!''

I walk at 1.30 a.m. all around in this little village, to find a new place for Seacow, a place with more silence. And one, two kilometres away in front of a ''Sport Hotel with a bath in a hall'' I find this place, I move cautious the Seacow, open a little bottle of stomach bitter alcohol and a beer in a plastic bottle and enjoy the journey of my fantasies back in my memories to Mother India, to Madras-Chennai Jeeva friend, looking for some more reality in his life search, asking for ''Enlightenment'' - and here's my answer, after 30 years of search and search and search: ''There is none!'' Neither enlightenment nor search!

There are sorrows, there are joys, there is thirst, hunger and the need, to find a toilet, there are desires, there is all and everything in an ordinary life - except spitshituality: that only exists in deluted minds, I know from my own experience, my last searching 30 years.... and why should I lie to you or myself?

My life with a beer and a little bottle of stomach bitter is as real as this ''Seacow'' car of my real Mimamai and the rain in this Marvellous Village on the window in the roof, It is a warm mountain night, 15 degrees Celsius, such a warm night makes the girl walk in the rain with naked arms and legs, to attract, what boys need like the girls: melting together in the teachings of basics: ''How we all came here into life, and how life will pass to the next generation.''

What are books good for? Find reality in the arms of someone, willing to take you in! Itís this simple!


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