3.

I had come to find God to become a monk and live the rest of my life as someone in search of the holy. Hey, someone hit the rewind button please. Who am I kidding. I was broken when I was a boy and I was still broken as a man and I held onto that archetype of holy man with long grey hair and Oxford accent with his beautiful eccentric smile , friend of poets , and CS Lewis , my man Bede Griffith beckoned to me beyond the grave giving me his darshan as I sat watching the tv on my fourth beer and second pack of cigarettes and my two junkie housemates were out on the prowl I was busy getting drunk when he appeared. My house was condemned inside and out. There was something about him that was different from your run of the mill Catholic priest . It was as if he was speaking a truth that was so pure that he was beyond defilement. It was around Christmas when I first saw him. Listening to him was like hearing the sermon on the Mount . He was the beatitudes in human form . He was an illumination of ancient wisdom. His kindness and compassion went beyond religion. He was the Christ who manifested in Bede Griffith to become flesh and the flesh was the divine word that flowed from his soul. I felt as if he was talking to me directly , if that seems crazy who cares. I bought a few books on him that I found at the Theosophical bookshop. I couldn’t get enough reading Return to the Centre, The Golden String , and Human Search . I fell in love with an old man who spoke words that I could understand. It was like he had reached out and touched my wounded thigh and healed me . It was crazy, I was in love with a dead man. I was broken and he came to find me and help me . I was headed for Mumbai but in Singapore I changed my flight for Trivanduram not far from Kovalam beach in Kerala . I wanted monkhood but I wanted other things as well like women , booze and hash. I was a planet spinning off its axis. I knew I was imploding , nothing made sense , I wanted to find the golden string and never let go . I was god intoxicated. The plane landed in Trivandrum mid afternoon to warm rain and as I stepped down onto the tarmac I could almost feel it’s tigers roar. I better hold on tight I thought because this is going to be one crazy mother of a ride. I took a taxi to hippie wonderland though mild to Goa . I looked around for a hotel. My luggage had gone onto Dubai I was told. My eyes bulging with anger I was assured to get my luggage back in a few days. Heading down to the beach I noticed a place called the seaweed hotel. This would be my home for a week as my smiling Ganesh booked me in. Later that evening I went to the beach a huge thunderstorm hit as I looked out to the Arabian Sea. Lights off I sat drinking my beer thinking about everything but God.