|1. The lazy start
|2. On the road again
Tuesday, 10th of June: The weather forecast has announced a thunderstorm in the evening. 5.00 p.m, I'm still waiting. The air is hot. Noby Dick too: inside the car, the temperature behind the front window: 59 degree Celsius. Outside more than 30 degree Celsius. How can my woman Mimamai manage her job in the crowded pool today with more than 5.000 visitors plus little children, free of entrance fee?
My cautious ride on Noby Dick brings me a few miles, around 60 Kilometers, south from Munich to the feet of the moutains. Before the cold lake Kochelsee, filled from the river Loisach with melting snow waters I find a very tiny, little lake - more like a bathtub for children: Eichsee. The German word ''See'' means lake. This Eichsee is around 100 Meters long only.
|My body is to lazy, to climb up the mountains in the heat. Lazy I lay on my back in the water and watch the white clouds in the blue sky. These colours symbolize the beauty in the Bavarian banner: blue and white.
The nature around Eich- and Kochelsee is a sheltered park for breeding birds. Flowers, we call ''Sea Rose'' are like little German sisters to their Indian Mother ''Lotus Flower''.
Two young boys chase two young girls at the shore of the Eichsee. The little girls defend themselves with high, loud voices: ''Please, please, don't do this do me.'' But both boys grap this sweet human load, to carry this squeaking and struggleing sweat, sun heated bodies into the water. The older one, with long curly brown hairs escapes, runs away few steps, stops inviting, to let the boy come closer again, who orders her: ''Here, you come!''
Mother nature develops female arts. Feels my fantasy something like a sweet seduction in these innocent games, to explore and to enter the female Lotus Paradies, the ''Sea Rose Temple''?
|Noby Dick, my only 20 month young car kid, had now already five times leaking water somewhere and somehow. Finally the mechanics have repaired everything. The 70 litres used water tank, the 80 litres fresh water tank - both are half full. There is a big blood trace on the high roof of this Volkswagen Transporter. I take all used water, to wash away this bloody sign. At the train station in the little village Kochelsee I fill fresh water again. Noby Dick has to carry me like a snail with house 200 meters higher the serpentine road to the next lake above: Walchensee.|
|There is a chair lift from a little village called like the lake ''Walchensee'' at the shore up to the hill, called ''Herzogstand'' (1800 Meters). That means, where the ''Duke stands'' - Bavarian crazy King Ludwig, the II, who had above on the Hill His Hunter's hut. Down at the parking place I stop to sleep. On my bike, what Noby Dick carries behind the back door, I explore the shore, when the sun goes down. ''There is so much magnificence over the water and woods'', please, can you imagine, beloved reader, together to reach a fantasy oasis tonight?
The night on that parking place is calm. In two Ford Transits from Hungarian sleep seven men in very poor conditions. At the morning at 6.00 a.m. they stand up and wake me up too. It's a dark clouded Friday. It takes some time, till my body gathers energy from coffee and breakfast. My shaved face looks friendly enough for the Bourgeois World, I'll guess. So after my morning toilet I take my second bath in the Walchensee this year. There are no other people, so I can swim naked. No need, to dry my bath trousers in the car.
Six weeks after my first bath the water still is so cold! I need all energy to swim the few meters back to the land. The body fills all cells with Mother's nature bliss, beauty and energy. A cool morning breeze dries my skin, while I run around on the soft carpet of fresh grass. It starts to rain, so I run back to Noby Dick. The coffee pot on the table is still warm.
Slowly Noby Dick continues careful my passage to Austria. The road via Mittenwald, Scharnitz, Leutasch is empty. But the radio announces 20 Kilometers heavy truck traffic jam on the Brenner high way to Italy behind Innsbruck. Innsbruck is the capital of the Austrian country ''Tirol''. Only 40 Kilometers to drive, but the steep serpent road ''Zirler Berg'' has about 16 percents ascent. N0by Dick runs quicker and quicker, even the engine reduces speed in the first gear.
The brakes hold nearly 2500 Kilogramm weight - mine and water included. Before the little village ''Zirl'' I stop, control the car, eat and write inside. Big BMWs driver have to eat standing beside their possession. I sit comfortable inside. There are thousands of things to think about, before the key starts the engine again:
There is a book ''Zen or the art, to repair your Motor Bike''. These word works remind me on the subject: ''Zen or the art to travel with Noby Dick.''
|Innsbruck, time for lunch. Because you have to pay money for Austrian high ways, I slowly drive the crowded little streets into the city. More than ten red lights stop the traffic. Finally I find a parking place inside a Super Market. I buy food, fill the fridge. wash the veggies, sip some juice and relax. More voices of birds than sounds of engines are in the air. I take my bike down, to drive around in the beautiful city. Will I find an Internet Cafe? Still I laugh about Phil's (Captain Curd, Gargantua) truth: ''Meeting of the 10.000 Bugggars - even Untersturmbann Fuehrer Boring Neumann will wake up in his constellation bunker!''
But in this oasis filling all cells and senses with love life's joy around, I don' want to tease my best friend and profound contributor to our free n0by gathering now, ok?
|3. Sannyas list politics
I find an Internet Cafe, pay 2 Euros for 20 Minutes and check the mails. Boring Neumann wrote some nice words about my Thursday invitation to float in my boat down the rivers. Sw. Surrendra, the Indian jail wardener for prisoners in his Munich Sannyas List, did not publish my invitation in his Gulag. Even Indian Swami Surrendra in Munich is silent lurker here, he will - when ever - comment his arts of jail wardening in private letters. Like all tyrants Surrendra is afraid of public sharing, to reveal his ugly masks of political power play.
|Same procedure like every year in both repressive Gulags of SSarlo's Stalin scissors
switches. Swami Suviro, my Munich friend, has again published my word works in the closed SSarlo Sanyas
Gulag. Suviro gets some charming provocations back from SSarlo's guidance General Ma Prem Tatina. They know each other perfectly well, inclusive Swami Surrendra and his German wife Ma Anand
Usha. A closed coterie for prison biz like usual behind the bars. Let them enjoy these games until they are satisfied with deadly
boredom. It's wonderful, to have still Sw. Suviro here with us, who has reached to the quality to
understand, what this free n0by gathering is made and good for.
Suviro as high skilled trained Psychologist from studies in University and from years with different difficult passengers in his taxi is definetly able and willing to stand controversities. Last little hope left for this sad, half dead. brain killing sannyas scene I feel for the mother from Norwegian woods: Ma Anand Tanmayo. The rest? Forget all about!
4. Innsbruck, Matrei, Navis
One and a half hour I am allowed to stay at the Super Market parking place. After this time I leave Innsbruck, feed Noby Dick's 80 Liter tank full with Diesel. The car is like a comfortable womb for my trembling sensitiviy. Diesel, Gas, air in the wheels, food in the fridge and the cupboards, water in the tanks, fruits, salat, even wine is on board. Air conditioning calms my naked feet in sandals with cool breeze over the hot road.
After 30 Kilometers continuing serpents on the Brenner road I reach to Matrei. From there I drive to the east in the little closed valley Navis. In Navis I worked as shepherd in the summers 1972 and 1976. First I came with my first wife, second time I stood all three monthes alone in the wooden hut in 1881 Meters, to get my health back from my first half year pilgrimage to India and Great Gurus.
Navis I know from my childhood. My old warrior dear dead Dad started ski driving lessons as young boy of six years only 1956. The holiday conditions were primitive and hard. But I survived somehos with success.
These memories come back on my walk to the wooden mountain hut. My body feels lazy: not even half the way I sit down and watch the valley: trees, horses, cattles. I return to the car, before the rain comes.
|5. When I was 24
At night I meet Resi, the farmers wife. We know us since 32 years, when I first worked for them the summer 1972. These people always respected my freedom, first time in my life. The farmer Hans, born 1938, and his brother Fritz, born 1944 are both dead since years. I remember the days in the wooden mountain hut in summer 1972 like yesterday.
My brother had sent from his trip to Marokko green gras to smoke, best quality. Fritz was trained as employe for customs duty. He had to control the Austrian border to Italy.
I make my joint. In the hut burns open fire. I start to smoke. Fritz gets nervous and complains: ''Heya! I smell here Marihuana Grass!''
''It's nothing'', replays my farmer boss, ''Erhard smokes his cigarette. His cigarettes smell always like this.''
''No, no'', answers Fritz excited, 'I smell Marihuana Grass! I remember exactly from demonstrations in our trainings!''
''Ah, keep silent'', gives my farmer boss back. And I continue to smoke with delight and enjoy the brothers fight. Like usual, the older silences the younger one.
Those were wild days, when I was 24 years young, wild, long hair - never brushed anymore. My first wife by my side gives me lessons in love. We celebrate a peaceful time in the mountains. Next village near Munich Muslim extremists massacre Juif athlets during the Olympic Games in the town Fuerstenfeldbruck. Later I lived in Fuerstenfeldbruck with three different Bhagwan Mas in one house from 1984 to 1998. One followed another, Ma Vimal Prem (pure love), Ma Deva Madira (divine wine) and Ma Veet Mimansa (beyond analysis). I still live with my beautiful female guidance light Ma Mimamai.
It's so much fun, to meet my late farmers wife Resi again, to remember our ''old'' times. Resi has four daughters, three have children, and we get older and still laugh about the good times passed.
6. Fiery fever fantasies in my drunken dry desert
|Happy I leave Resi, the farmers widow, and drive Noby Dick up through the rains. Clouds fill the valley, looks like cotton wool over the wet grass, trees, houses and cars. At the dead end streets of the valley the public traffic has to stop. Noby Dick stands in absolute darkness for one adventerous night more. Noby Dick's snout sniffs in the valley. I care for security, tie the camel, put a big stone under the front wheel. From the fridge I enjoy a quarter litre Austrian red wine, sips like sweet, seductive kisses, when the Sun in the Sky made love with Mother Earth.
Ramarshi, aka ''Gruppensturm Under Fuehrer Boring Neumann from his constellation bunker'' attacks again in his last mail my best Munich friend Kabir. Kabir will not answer, he filters Ramarshi. I read every mail in our ongoing quarells in our Army of Lovers.
Ramarshi writes a flattering story about my changing consciousness. Bow downs for your transformative miracles, my friend, and you write in the very same letter swearwords for Kabir and Veet Tom like ''idiot''. What's this? Boring Neuman flatters my warriors life and attacks my best friends?
Boring Neuman, I have no idea, what destructive idiots these political power players Rumsfeld, Cheeney, Wilhelm II have been or are right now. I know Kabir and Veet Tom from phone calls, and Kabir from many meetings.
You, Boring Neuman, remind me on my younger brother, educated in our Prussian Warriors tradition, always on top of all friends around, highly provocative energy for every little resistance against his EGO grandezza.
This man, my brother, widens his EGO maniac manifestations via materials like I do with my home on wheels to inspire me more: Noby Dick. To sum it up shortly: my brother always is right and the best. ''He's the fittest!'' Don't have warriors to live this way in order to stay alive?
Living Kabir reminds me on my older brother, who helped me in as little boy to understand things better. In many, many meetings Kabir always gives advice, I start to trust him. Kabir has his faults, he frankly admits. Like his overweight fat on his body. Kabir is simple a human being, anchors his sensitivity in his big Buddha belly body - tells little lies and wise insights for everyone and everything. I love his words on the phone, in the list and most in personal meetings! And you, Under Group Fuehrer call this best friend of mine ''an idiot''? And attest my progress in the same letter for transformative qualities? What kind of political power trips do you try to play here?
Get closer to the facts, Boring Neuman, please! You have just seen me three times in my life, we never phone, do we? Are you ready, to let some provocative words work for you? Who are you, to judge the Prussian warrior tradition of my father and grandfather? Who are you, to blame my mother for caring for her life instinctivly in war times?
These my ancestors are the roots of my life, dedicated to discipline! To poison in priestful political pestings these roots, could result in a weak, shy, timid lost life of Shame and Guilt complex.
Your ''work'', Boring Neuman, has just the opposite result: more pride is growing about this cruel education I suffered and survived. Stronger roots inside my shelter, surrender and trust to women, who care female and loving for life. I enjoy these ridicolous mind mud wrestling with boring bitches and their disturbent interference with my heart compass - inbuild to struggle my warrior ways through my difficult life. Is your life easy on the streets delivering parcels? Do you like, to make profit for an U.S. company, to get paid with little salary? Do you still enjoy your ''quality time'' as political preacherman in Internet Service? Still looking for supporting stuff, when you redicule yourself with each letter more and more?
Wars, mass murderers have alway been part of peoples destructive, negative life approach! Do you believe to change the coming global catastrophies by preachings and efforts to contact cunning political alliances? Good luck! Do you calculate counting on me as one more member of your slime licking supporting stuff?
The war, the destruction changes people, what else are wars for? These warriors words are written for this: the destruction of your constellation concepts in your boring Bunker mind mentality. You'll never listen, what people mirror for your online insanity, don't you?
Is there a hidden Master Plan beyond mind and imagination? Channels existence in the unconscious of mankind the order again for destruction?
When existence wants us, the Human Race, wiped out from this Earth, our Lotus Paradies, for thousands of years, how our ant minds and efforts will stop or change this existencial Master Plan? The existencial forces create and kill without judgments and feelings - my mind is reminded on a mechanical device. Ebb and flood. Physical laws. Destruction, Construction, Flowering, Vanishing. Life and Death, on indiviual and collective scale.
Last century: Did the Germans took over the taskforce of Shiva's destruction? Now cursed to pay with Shame and Guilt Complex beside paying reperations for several generations?
Had Germans to follow the existencial call for destruction, to take the burden WW1 and WW2? A world collective desire for death and destruction?
So 60, 80 years later little boys, pretending to channel wise visions in scientific way from the deep down unconscious levels, feel called, to calculate the lost, the dammage, the advantage, the Good and the Bad?
Do you enjoy these nice mind games to entertain yourself and to impress women, special mothers best in her age of eighteen? Surely you must feel impressed by the adoring shimmer in wet, warm eyes for your Pralat Parlando, isn't it true? Your victims melt naked like wax in your sweating mind masturbations?
My man, Living Kabir, is from harder, older wood, my friend Boring Neumann, not pleased with flatteries, not frightened with swearwords like ''Idiot''.
From my truth tonight, Boring Neuman, after the last sip red Autrian wine of my little bottle, when the temperature falls outside below 10 degrees, my truth from my sleeplessness in the thin air of this height here, Boring Neuman, to call Kabir an ''idiot'' falls back on you with double force! Do you read again with blocked senses of misunderstanding?
Now, please, Boring Neuman, better feel sad, feel yourself from another island but your own EGO maniac, or bite furious back, if you have energy left, or just listen to the last birds in the nights, to the mountain river, swollen with rain waters, listen to the bells of the caddles. Do you listen?
Do you feel the love and compassion and care, shining through these endless lines of a warriors honesty written for our Army of Lovers? Like I always feel your love from your lines.
I'm not the General here, no, Under Group Fuehrer Boring Neuman, Kabir is! With warriors pride I call Kabir ''friend''.
What does this mean to me? Simple: a human being, like you and me, full of faults, and I accept everything - faults in dry desert, fruits in Paradies Oasis.
Now, one central question left: where are your stuff members, you ''guide'' in real life sessions? Your Under-your-thumb stuff, brainwashed in beliefs into your one and only concept: to surf on top of the wave of consciousness, on top of all of us.
Cheers, little brother - and keep in mind Captain Curd, Phil's, Gargantua prayers: ''my dick is bigger than Noby Dick's!''
My woman Mimamai, Steffi, sums up our cosy conversation in one word only: ''Kikeriki''. When you bark back, she is not like this sophisticated female seduction of SSarlo's mind guidance in closed gathering, Ma Prem Tatina, my woman just balances with her energy malicious male maniacs mind with her warm ''WUFF!''
This ''WUFF!'' from her heart, shows my way, she's my Boss, my Boss and my Beloved. Now: good night, my blatterns need to empty the fluids of Resi's tea and the red Austrian wine.
Sorry, dear Ramarshi, again you forgot to smile? I'm only kidding in my drunken desert dry mind night in the white woolen fog of clouds.
7. Deep in the snow under the clouds
Saturday, Peer-Alm parket place 7.00 a.m. A cold and cloudy day. At least no rain, to start my mountain walk. Peer-Alm, Klamm-Alm, Griff-Alm - 2100 Meters high. Higher and higher. Deeper the snow, thicker the clouds.
They start to open and release their rain. I put rain clothes on. Wild mountain animals warn each other with loud whistle sound: Chamois (Gemsen) and Marmot (Murmeltier). Never have seen this before.
The way is not to pass anymore in a height more than 2500 Meters. I sink into snow each step more than one meter deep. My leg is lost deep in snow. I need to pull my self out with naked hands. Cold like ice. One hand starts to bleed.
End of the walk. I have to return. Hours walk back. Water fall down the rivers in white foam. The last hour the sun comes out! What a reward, to dry my clothes, before I come to the car.
There I step naked on the ladder behind the car and have a short shower through the back window outside. I prepare caffee and warm food. I leave Navis 7.00 p.m. The roads through Innsbruck and back to Bavaria are free. Around 9.30 p.m I reach the Walchensee. Tired I prepare my bed, to sleep only one and a half hour, Strong rain on the roof wakes me up. So, quickly the last report and back home. Closed to midnight. I want to shelter myself in Mimamai's warm wide open arms tonight.
The car is now easier to handle. I leave Walchensee. I come home after midnight. Mimamai takes me in her arms. We love each other in similar way we have done, when we met first - years ago.