I don't like saying the word gun anymore. In yoga class today I told the students to interlace their fingers above their heads and leave their index fingers pointed upward. I was about to explain that they can imagine they are holding a gun in their hands shooting upwards. I didn't use this visualization but I did take note of my hesitation to reference a gun for any purpose. When I saw this photo of me walking with this facemask on I reminisced of my former desires to be a follower of Sub Comadante Marcos in Chiapas. I used to imagine myself dedicated to a vision of social change and armed with sub machine guns and bullets draped across my chest. In Highschool my friends started carrying guns after they got bored of beating each other up with fists, box cutters, mace and tazers. In Arizona you are allowed to carry concealed weapons. When I was in college I was going to start carrying a gun in my back pack to protect myself when I was out in the streets doing graffiti. One time I was in Las Vegas at a party sitting on a couch. My friend started a big fight with the main group of people who's party it was. A few friends ran inside and grabbed me assuring me it was time to go. We ran to our car with a number of people chasing us. We jumped into the car just as someone began to shoot at our vehicle multiple times with a hand gun. Just before I moved into the ashram in Arizona I went on a hike with one senior devotee on Mt Lemon. We had a wonderful day of hiking through dry river beds and reaching the top of the mountain. We were immersed in chanting japa and I asked many questions about living a saintly devoted life to Krsna. I was so happy to be in the company of such a senior personality who was obviously very advanced. We finally returned to the vehicle we drove. I sat in the passenger seat and as this devotee took off his water pack and jacket he also removed a gun from underneath his tshirt and put it in the glove compartment. I blinked for a second and did not believe my eyes. I was definitely confused for some time.
1 comment:
Boaz, where did you grow up? I thought Chiapas was in Mexico...I have often worked in Oaxaca in my life, through my church, doing medical trips up into the mountains in villages, providing medical and dental care. Our missionaries were always hesitant to talk about Chiapas, and were always a little wary of traveling there.
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