A Journal of Mystical Inclinations Toward the One

Satya

May 21, 2006

Conceptions of the Prophets

Casting arrows and consulting familiars. Propositioning sex in exchange for camels. The reason I find the conception stories of Isaac, Ishmael, Jesus, and Muhammed so fascinating is that they read like trashy romance novels, yet they involve our heroes and the objects of our idealism. You know how the story will end, but before the denouement there’s an edge of suspense, with enough juicy details to make it almost…sacrilegious. Can our pure and holy prophets have come from such illustrious backgrounds? Yes, indeed.

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May 22, 2006

The After-Life of a Chicken

1. Satya buys chicken from the butcher. Mmmm, free range. It looks kind of jaunty sitting there in the display case among the lettuce, as if it had just been frolicking in a pasture.

2. Satya plans a delicious tribute to the chicken. How about hunter's style, pan-fried with white wine, vinegar, and rosemary, and then baked to golden perfection? Over boingers? (You might call them rotini.)

3. Satya gets busy and makes Kraft macaroni and cheese several nights in a row.

4. Fearing a demise even smellier than its original death, Satya hurriedly freezes chicken hoping to postpone its downward slide from freshness after several phone conferences with her mom and best friend, plus some googling and trading of chicken-related links.

5. Several months pass by. Okay, two.

6. Satya gives up on the chicken and sadly chucks it into the trash.

7. Virgil the dog gets into the trash, strewing raw chicken around the living room in an epic catastrophe with a mighty smell.

8. Satya buys another chicken.

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June 15, 2006

Thirty Days, Three Albums, One Wu: An Audio Experiment

We meditators can be a sensitive bunch. And who can blame us? Our practices are all about cultivating the heart quality, blowing on the embers until they erupt in a full-on flame of love, harmony, and beauty. Certainly there are some jelali (powerful, or in my words, manly-man) practices, but as a whole I'd say my spiritual community mostly consists of people likely to get picked on at the playground, God bless us.

This is a great outlet for my sensitive nature, but I also hold it partly responsible for causing me to cry like a little girl the first time I had to spar in my kung fu class. Over the years I've gradually gotten more comfortable, but I still feel some degree of fear or nerves almost every time I go to class, which is usually about twice a week. And that's a lot of cumulative fear to feel.

To ease my nerves I started pumping myself up with various forms of hip-hop, and found the Wu-Tang Clan to be the most effective and also the most appropriate, given their heavy martial arts influence. So the question arose: would good things happen in my life if I listened only to the Wu-Tang Clan for an entire month? I decided to give it a whirl and then share some things I learned.

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June 21, 2006

Public Poem

Today I received a very nice poster in the mail along with a press release about a poetry contest I had entered in February, for Valentine's Day (I won an honorable mention). The contest was to write a poem in one hundred words or less on the theme of love and Caltrain, the train that runs along the peninsula in the San Francisco Bay Area. The poster contains my poem along with some artistic photographs of Caltrain, and will be displayed along with the other winners at two of the stations.

I had only ridden Caltrain once when I entered, but hey, it was a memorable experience. The funny thing was that they censored my poem for accuracy - I had used the words "punch my ticket" and they had called me and said, "Well, actually we don't punch the tickets anymore - we check them. Would it be okay to change the word?" I agreed in the spirit of conviviality, and the habit of acquiescing to my editors, but I still think "punch" is a better word, so I'm including my original poem below. If you're in San Francisco or San Jose, check it out in person at the Caltrain station!

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Biography

Satya spent a humble childhood in Fukien as a laundress for the monks until their chef took pity on her and taught her the deadly art of the Swish and Swipe. Armed with this new knowledge, she came to California to strike out on her own. Email her at satya@saffronjournal.org.

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