MY TEACHERS

HH 14th Dalai Lama

HHDL

Ven. 13th Zasep Rinpoche

Zazep Rinpoche

HH 9th Khalkha Jetsun Dampa Rinpoche

HH Khalka Jetsun Dampa

H.H. Guru Deva Rinpoche

HH Guru Deva

Thubten Khadro

I would like to thank all of my Lamas of the Gaden tradition. Without your blessings, I could not be who I am.

I would also like to thank my other teachers, friends and family members who continue to inspire and support me. My soul mate Cristina, my friend and ‘Great Secret Yogi and Scholar of Seattle’ David Gonzalez, Mona Bolton of ITM in Toronto, Theodore Tsaousidis and Jaime De La Barrera were all particularly helpful.

Remi Caudron selflessly offered all of the art for this website. These pieces, archetypal and surreal, are true shamanic voices. Remi’s devotion, talent and inspiration have made them possible. Thank-you, my shaman-friend.

I am also grateful for my webmaster, Lu Dao. May we always walk in the vast expanse of Big Sky Mind.

PRAYER

I offer my practice, gratitude and prayers to the Black Mother. Whether known as Troma, Kali, Isis, Hathor, the Earth Goddess or the Black Madonna, she is the primordial archetype of maternal power. She is the metaphor of the wild feminine, a muse for one’s spiritual path and a symbol of the wisdom born from suffering and the bliss that transcends it.

“Nigra sum sed Formosa” is a line from the Song of Songs 1:5 in the Old Testament: "I am black but comely, O daughters of Jerusalem..." It is associated with some Black Madonnas in Europe, such as the Tindari Madonna Bruna in the Province of Messina in Sicily.

Light, I know, Treads The Ten Million Stars

By Dylan Thomas

Light, I know, treads the ten million stars,

And blooms in the Hesperides. Light stirs

Out of the heavenly sea onto the moon’s shores.

Such light shall not illuminate my fears

And catch a turnip ghost in every cranny.

I have been frightened of the dark for years.

When the sun falls and the moon stares,

My heart hurls from my side and tears

Drip from my open eyes as honey

Drip from the humming darkness of the hive.

I am a timid child when the light is dead.

Unless I learn the night I shall go mad.

It is night’s terrors I must learn to love,

Or pray for day to some attentive god

Who on his cloud hears all my wishes,

Hears and refuses.

Light walks the sky, leaving no print,

And there is always day, the shining of some sun,

In those high globes I cannot count,

And some shine for a second and are gone,

Leaving no print.

But lunar night will not glow in my blackness,

Make bright its corners where a skeleton

Sits back and smiles, a tiny corpse

Turns to the roof a hideous grimace,

Or mice play with an ivory tooth.

Stars’ light and sun’s light will not shine

As clearly as the light of my own brain,

Will only dim life, and light death.