William Blake 1757-1827

🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯🕯

William Blake

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improv in the ancient Italian valley

Life is a journey

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Long, long ago in Canada, when I, as a small child, was hiding in my bedroom listening to the drunken fights of my parents; or, at fifteen, hurrying terrified through a dark suburban neighbourhood seeking rescue as my first massive dose of LSD ripped through my brain; or, as a young adult, begging for coins on a city street or curled up on the concrete under newspapers, trying to catch glimpses of my unreachable dreams,

I could never have suspected that I would someday be enjoying a good book in the living room of my homestead on the other side of the world, loved and respected and at peace with my soul and the universe.

It all comes from within us, every bountiful drop of life manifesting.

Seek the silence of the present moment whence abundance springs.

Union is the key to the front door.

 

Life is a journey.
Step out of the pain shadows into the comforting light
And always carry your true home in that beautiful heart of yours.

 

Victoria:
‘We were reminiscing about Cabella. Our daughter Joy said “For us children, Uncle Eddie was King” and “When I grow up I’m going to follow his tradition of making all the children happy.” Then she told us about the coins you used to bury in the sandpit and how they found enough to buy an ice cream, and other lovely stories and memories.’

Ed Saugstad TV interview and garden-party

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In which Sir Ed Word appears on local television

… and the Party commences!

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what goes on in the head of Ed? -1

https://www.amazon.com/Oakee-Doakee-Hate-Edward-Saugstad/dp/0955150361/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&qid=1526822119&sr=8-7&keywords=edward+saugstad

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I have become the hollow drum

36 years ago today I crossed an essential threshold and embarked on an epic journey …

into enlightenment.

Almost every day since the 20th of April, 1982, I’ve been able to attain clarity, and briefly glimpse blissful Reality through the instrument of my central nervous system, and the state of thoughtless awareness.

The upward spiral unfolds, with wonderful surprises arising just around every curve.

More than anything else, I wish this for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(for full-size headphones or bass intense speaker system!)

In separation have I suffered long,
But now am glorified in the eternal bliss of Union.

And from my core,
That once was small,
The sound of Light
Expands to all.

Never will I shrink again
Into a ball of doubt and pain.
Forever forth, in inner sky,
I spread my wings and upward fly.

All Life pulsates within my breast.

I have become
The hollow drum.

~Ed Saugstad
20 April 2018

 

 

—special thanks to Linda Dzus (wife of one of my old best buddies, Doug) who took this amazing photo in their neighbourhood on Mayne Island, British Columbia, the oasis that I briefly took refuge in after attaining self-realisation, 36 years ago—

“Happy Easter 2018!”

“Happy Springtime!”
“Happy Easter!”
lots of love,
e&b

💐
(welcome back from the winter sleep)

http://brigittesaugstad.com

Image

inner peace

my tirelessly creative wife!

1970 and 2018 TV interviews

inner peace, inner springtime

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🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷

Mother

I met an elderly woman some years ago who told me this story. It reminded me of a similar experience that I once had. Here I share her memory with you:

“For several years following my divorce in the 1980’s I had fallen into a state of total exhaustion and acute mental and physical anguish, but one morning I woke with a strange premonition that something good would happen. I had an immense desire to go to Chartres Cathedral to see the Virgin Mary there.
In the cathedral I prayed before the statue of the Virgin. Immediately I smelled a very strong rose perfume. It was so intense that I turned around to see where it was coming from. I walked around the cathedral and the scent followed me around the whole building. As I left and stood in the open air in the square by the entrance, the scent was still there. A few yards away from where I was standing I could see an Indian lady wearing a white sari getting out of a car. She looked at me and smiled, and I felt attracted to Her. Suddenly my head emptied of all thought and I could only see this lady, as though nothing else was there. She was still smiling at me. I approached and felt an explosion of joy within myself, since I already knew somehow that this lady was very great, and this was what I had been waiting for. I could not move away now.
‘Why don’t you join us?’ someone suggested. I followed the little party into the cathedral. As we walked, I felt a pleasant tingling sensation rising from my feet, through my legs and throughout my body. I had a feeling in my heart which I can only describe as expansion or fulfilment. The rest of that day was spent in joy and bliss and, from then on, my sickness and depression simply disappeared.”

Shri Mataji

21 March 1923 ~ 23 February 2011

http://shrimataji.org

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keeping it all real

I was born an optimist.

Despite the chaos of alcoholism, I survived childhood.
At the age of twelve I wrote an emotional essay on the insanity of war
that raised many eyebrows, but echoed away into silence,
ineffective.
With sixteen I enthusiastically came across the theories of meditation
and the age of enlightenment, only to be mislead by
imposters.
But my desire was pure, and the light that I came to believe might just be imagined,
turned out to be real and all-pervading.
Despite the fruitless jungle of youth, with its years of aimless wanderings under the influence of narcotics, I stumbled out into adulthood, and, step by step,
made my way up the mountain
— thanks to our fourth, natural (and now thriving) state:
thoughtless awareness.

Here, on the brink of universal change, when darkness takes its last stand, I am firmly rooted in the belief that each of us carries the seed of the highest ideal in us, about to sprout, or already stretching out its magnificent boughs.
We need to nurture that.

We are not these shells.

I have felt, again and again, the immensity of who we are.

The time has come to shine.

Optimistically yours,
Ed Saugstad

 

World Peace …

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… will naturally follow World Innocence

 

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there and back again — a canadian’s tale …

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Well, I’m finally home. It’s great to be back!

No more adventures for me …
unless …

‘The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say’….

http://SirEdWord.com

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where our heads are headin’

part-and-parcel-of-the-party!

🤓😏🤭😃😚🤗😳😋😍🤪🙃

the only way to become truly great …

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… is to be truly grateful

 

hOMe is where your OM is

🕉😃☯️

to GIF or not to GIF?…

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Good citizens: kick out corruption from high places — and score big time!

(oh, no! Ed just figured out how to quickly make GIF files from video clips via Final Cut Pro and Photoshop! 😳)

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“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!”

It’s a new year???
Oh! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

Merry Christmas! (the Evolution of Eddie)

I was born into the realm of the Wild West when Elvis was king, at the height of social freedoms which were slipping steadily down into the mists of abandon. Unlimited alcohol and tobacco consumption were a household norm for many families, with few or no suspicions about their ill effects — gross and subtle.

My first eight years took me along an often bumpy road, with the scary shadows of evermore chaos lurking just around the next bend. But there was also love. I grew up with some delightfully humorous and caring souls. My best memories still shine from those joyous occasions when we, once a year, exchanged presents, had fun together, and temporarily forgot all our fears and worries: Christmas Days!

Just before my eighth Christmas in 1965, my Dad returned home, sober, after a four year absence. From that time on, everything seemed to get more prosperous and abundant — including the number of siblings. Within another three years we would be eight brothers and sisters celebrating at home together!
I was then blessed to live through a period of wealth and wellbeing that most children in the world will never know. Looking back at my long climb as a human being, I recognize how very lucky I’ve been this time around.

May the liberating Innocence, that we call Luck, fill the hearts of good people, everywhere.

Wishing you and yours Love and Light at this special time,
your friend in this abundant moment,
Ed

(We were, oldest to youngest: Dad, Mom, Darlene, Cheryl, Rick, Ed, Glenn, David, Allan and Don. Christmases were also celebrated at Nana and Grandpa’s place, Mom’s Finnish parents. Almost half-a-century later we would be three more, Tia, Karen and Cliff, senior siblings divided from us by Dad’s first divorce.)

https://www.facebook.com/edward.saugstad/media_set?set=a.10155257909416545.1073741890.583641544&type=3

Darlene, Eddie, Rick and Cheryl

Darlene, Eddie, Rick and Cheryl

Rick, Eddie, Darlene, Grandpa, Glenn and Cheryl

David and Glenn, Darlene, Rick, Cheryl and Eddie

Darlene, Eddie, Rick, Glenn and Cheryl

Rick, Mom, Nana, Glenn, Eddie, Darlene and Cheryl, Grandpa and David

Rick, Cheryl, Eddie, Glenn, Darlene and David

Eddie’s haircut, May 1965
(a month before the end of grade one, and still half a year before that special Christmas that marked the end of Dad’s long drunken absence)

Glenn, David and Eddie

Darlene, Mom, Cheryl, Rick, Eddie, Glenn and David

David, Glenn and Eddie

Cheryl and Darlene, Glenn, Eddie, Rick and David

Darlene, Rick and Cheryl (the ‘Big Kids’) and Eddie, Glenn and David (the ‘Little Kids’)

Cheryl, Glenn and David

Darlene, Mom and Dad, Eddie, Nana, Rick, Cheryl, David and Glenn

Eddie, Rick, Darlene, Dad, Allan, Mom, Cheryl, Glenn and David

Eddie, Rick, Darlene, Dad, Allan, Mom, Cheryl, Glenn and David

Rick, Allan, Mom and Nana

Allan and Cheryl

Glenn, David and Eddie

Allan, Glenn, Eddie, Don and David

Darlene, Dad, Eddie, Don and Rick

Rick, Cheryl, Darlene and Eddie, Dad with David, Mom with Don, Allan and Glenn

Glenn, Eddie, David, Allan and little Don

FUN CHAOS!

Eddie (Ed the Head) and Don

Allan, Glenn, Ed and Don

🎄Merry Christmas!🎁 (the Evolution of Eddie)

I was born into the realm of the Wild West when Elvis was king, at the height of social freedoms which were slipping steadily down into the mists of abandon. Unlimited alcohol and tobacco consumption were a household norm for many families, with few or no suspicions about their ill effects — gross and subtle.

My first eight years took me along an often bumpy road, with the scary shadows of evermore chaos lurking just around the next bend. But there was also love. I grew up with some delightfully humorous and caring souls. My best memories still shine from those joyous occasions when we, once a year, exchanged presents, had fun together, and temporarily forgot all our fears and worries: Christmas Days!

Just before my eighth Christmas in 1965, my Dad returned home, sober, after a four year absence. From that time on, everything seemed to get more prosperous and abundant — including the number of siblings. Within another three years we would be eight brothers and sisters celebrating at home together!
I was then blessed to live through a period of wealth and wellbeing that most children in the world will never know. Looking back at my long climb as a human being, I recognize how very lucky I’ve been this time around.

May the liberating Innocence, that we call Luck, fill the hearts of good people, everywhere.

Wishing you and yours Love and Light at this special time,
your friend in this abundant moment,
Ed

(We were, oldest to youngest: Dad, Mom, Darlene, Cheryl, Rick, Ed, Glenn, David, Allan and Don. Christmases were also celebrated at Nana and Grandpa’s place, Mom’s Finnish parents. Almost half-a-century later we would be three more, Tia, Karen and Cliff, senior siblings divided from us by Dad’s first divorce.)

https://www.facebook.com/edward.saugstad/media_set?set=a.10155257909416545.1073741890.583641544&type=3

Darlene, Eddie, Rick and Cheryl

Darlene, Eddie, Rick and Cheryl

Rick, Eddie, Darlene, Grandpa, Glenn and Cheryl

David and Glenn, Darlene, Rick, Cheryl and Eddie

Darlene, Eddie, Rick, Glenn and Cheryl

Rick, Mom, Nana, Glenn, Eddie, Darlene and Cheryl, Grandpa and David

Rick, Cheryl, Eddie, Glenn, Darlene and David

Eddie’s haircut, May 1965
(a month before the end of grade one, and still half a year before that special Christmas that marked the end of Dad’s long drunken absence)

Glenn, David and Eddie

Darlene, Mom, Cheryl, Rick, Eddie, Glenn and David

David, Glenn and Eddie

Cheryl and Darlene, Glenn, Eddie, Rick and David

Darlene, Rick and Cheryl (the ‘Big Kids’) and Eddie, Glenn and David (the ‘Little Kids’)

Cheryl, Glenn and David

Darlene, Mom and Dad, Eddie, Nana, Rick, Cheryl, David and Glenn

Eddie, Rick, Darlene, Dad, Allan, Mom, Cheryl, Glenn and David

Eddie, Rick, Darlene, Dad, Allan, Mom, Cheryl, Glenn and David

Rick, Allan, Mom and Nana

Allan and Cheryl

Glenn, David and Eddie

Allan, Glenn, Eddie, Don and David

Darlene, Dad, Eddie, Don and Rick

Rick, Cheryl, Darlene and Eddie, Dad with David, Mom with Don, Allan and Glenn

Glenn, Eddie, David, Allan and little Don

FUN CHAOS!

Eddie (Ed the Head) and Don

Allan, Glenn, Ed and Don

I Believe in Love

LOVE: the only reason the Human Race still exists

the War against Innocence

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Innocence is not the absence of something. Innocence is an essential and powerful state and energy. We have learned to split atoms and now live in terror of that. When will human beings learn to live in balance, without going to harmful extremes, destroying that which is precious and fundamental to thriving life?

Civilizations have collapsed before our time, due to rampant corruption of sustaining values. The clock is ticking once again …

Photo taken in Peru when 30,000 people marched to protest about sexual theory content in schools. The abusive material was subsequently removed from classrooms.

‘There were between 20 million and 36 million slaves around the world in 2015,
including 5.5 million children.’ (!)

https://www.thesun.co.uk/archives/news/175171/trafficking-capital-where-thousands-of-children-are-trained-as-sex-slaves/

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Hope:

http://www.innerpeaceday.org/en/

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liberation, simply and naturally achieved

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http://coolcheck.org

the affirmation

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“I live in a state

of absolute, unconditional

Forgiveness”

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becoming truly cool

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the actual 21st century trend:
Deeper/Higher/Subtler/Empowered
is Cooler

http://freemeditation.com/

take time to WONDER

 

don’t panic …

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… our world is just a kitten playing with a ball 

🌎🐱💭

free online (real) meditation

… In Sahaja meditation, there is no deliberate effort to “concentrate,” and certainly, you do not need to focus your attention on a specific object. In fact, the goal is to avoid concentration or mental activity altogether. There’s no need to be mindful of or engage with your thoughts and feelings while meditating.

In fact, you won’t want to. Engaging your mind in such mental noise will only drag your attention back down to the first floor — that mental plane — rather than remaining in the state of thoughtless awareness. Thoughtless awareness is not simply a thought vacuum or state of thoughtless emptiness on the mental plane. It is a whole new dimension of awareness, higher awareness that is difficult to describe to someone who has not yet experienced it. We cannot fully conceive of its depth or describe it with language we’re accustomed to using on the ordinary mental plane.

https://sahajaonline.com/science-health/self-improvement-traits-abilities/mindfulness/mindfulness-sahaja-is-sahaja-mindfulness-meditation/

 

by Marc Andeya-Trefny

me in my most magical year, 1982!

“Happy Diwali 2017!”

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“Happy Diwali 2017!”
may collective consciousness rise and shine

(and don’t fear ogres — they may turn out to be your friends or relations!)

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from chapter fifteen, OAKEE DOAKEE—RAMAYANA


He started feeling again like he was in some kind of fairy tale, where good was setting out to defeat evil. The furry edges of all the bustling silhouettes started glowing in the increasing light of a fierce bonfire as they neared their destination. The air was filled with the sounds of stomping feet in sand, grunts and panting, powerful ocean waves, the crackling of a huge fire, and the distant cawing of many crow-type birds. All the animal, jungle and beach smells were stunningly wild. The sky was almost dark overhead, where billions of watching stars had begun to twinkle. It was a night that would forever stretch, with its colorful events from the roots of history, up into the minds of the human race throughout all generations to come.

http://amazon.com/author/sir-ed-word

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from chapter ten, OAKEE DOAKEE—RAMAYANA

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“Humanity presently finds itself in a state of important change — from its primitive, aggressive beginnings to a more loving, advanced expression of life. To do this, we must use a balance of force and self-sacrificing kindness to expel the brutal darkness in us, replacing it with the light of subtle, loving boundaries and interactions that make our lives together more blissful and spiritually productive.”

As he tucked each of them in like a loving grandfather, he touched them gently on top of their heads with his big hand. Oakee felt the spiritual, motherly energy that he often became aware of, rising now strongly up the center of his body and out of the top of his head like a river of soothing coolness. Then he slept.

http://amazon.com/author/sir-ed-word

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meditation is a free, natural state of optimal equilibrium

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http://www.freemeditation.com/online-meditation/self-realization-workshop-kundalini-awakening/

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Felix Felicis

War and Remembrance

As little kids back in the sixties in suburban West Coast Canada, my best buddy and I would spend a lot of our classroom time drawing war scenes on pieces of paper. Our depictions were filled with fun explosions and gunfire. Traditionally, the good guys always defeated the bad guys. That was less than twenty-five years after World War Two, which meant Americans against Nazi Germans. (“Achtung! Schweinehund!”) Sargent Rock and Sargent Fury were two of the action comic books that I’d sometimes read under my blankets at home when I was supposed to be sleeping. The world seemed so clearly laid out in black and white, and we were the triumphant heroes. Could I have imagined back then that I would marry and move to Europe decades later, and live a pleasant life in enemy territory?

In 2003 my wife inherited a cottage and property on a creek in the Vienna Woods from a deceased friend of her grandmother (these women had survived two world wars in Vienna, losing all their material wellbeing twice in one lifetime) in a small valley with seven hills that had established inns for travellers (twelve in its heyday!) and farms from way back in the twelfth century AD. Ten years later we received a surprise visit here by an old man who’s father had built the one room structure out of hand-sawn wooden beams, bricks and improvised mortar, and dug the six meter well, back in 1934. They had received the property because the father was employed on the railroad that ran through the village. This is where our visitor had happily grown up as a child. But then Hitler rose to power and all hell broke loose. At the end of the devastating war they moved to Vienna. But young Kurt experienced the relief from oppression of the evil regime here in his rural corner of Austria. When news of the fall came, in the one desperate night before the Russians swarmed in, the impoverished villagers broke into the Nazi headquarters and SS officer training centre* (that existed on an ancient country estate then, just a few blocks from the house where we now live in the village of ‘Eichgraben’, Oak Gully) and stole everything they could carry away. Apparently some homes in the area still have oak floorboards that were made off with that night from the Herrenhof. Even cobblestones from the new Autobahn (freeway/motorway) that was commissioned by Hitler nearby were stolen. A teenage friend of Kurt was caught with an unlicensed motorcycle by the police that were later assigned to come and inspect the village and it’s inhabitants. The boy was worried that they would confiscate it, but the friendly officer simply took a hammer and whacked a dent into it, declaring that it looked broken and that he could keep it! (They still use the old wartime civil-defence siren system here to alert the volunteer fire department members in cases of emergency, giving the haunting impression every time that bombs are about to fall.)

*(The dreaded SS had many secretive training centres throughout the Vienna Woods, where young men were brain-washed into becoming cold, calculating killing machines. Young ladies from the nearby farms and villages would sometimes be invited for dance evenings at the Herrenhof to pump the egos of the budding officers.)

It took a long time for me in Austria (where I arrived in 1986 to marry my sweet Viennese Fräulein … whom I had met in India!) to realize that every war memorial statue and roll of honour here praised the so-called bad guys killed in action. The fact really came home to me one day when I helped fill a scene full of SS officers as an extra in an American Broadcast Corporation television series called War and Remembrance. I was in Vienna’s Rathaus Keller (City Hall cellar) at a make-believe banquet, dressed as a Nazi (they paid me extra to have my blond hair shaven down to a crew cut) with two hundred other scary looking men, and a Hitler look-alike raving up on the podium. (What a jerk!) This was daily life here not long ago, and it’s been equally brutal in many other countries since.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_and_Remembrance_(miniseries)

In 1989 I spent a few weeks working in a one-hundred-and-fifty year old family-run shop in the heart of Frankfurt. My boss, like his parents and grandparents before him, did exclusive picture framing work. They had also all been Nazi supporters. So many times I had to listen to his assertions that the Allies did worse things than Hitler’s well-meaning assistants. Some evenings on the bus ride home I couldn’t help crying, so intense was the physical pain in my heart from those tangible, torturing vibrations.

My father-in-law, a very kind and intelligent, now retired, government official, was spared the fate that met most of the servants of das Dritte Reich. When, as a teenager in 1941, he was drafted and forced to quickly chose between serving as a Luftwaffe gunner or an aircraft warning observer, he was able to choose the safe position. His guardian angel placed him in an observation tower** outside of Paris where he saw no fighting. (His comrade fired some shots towards the ground one night, only to discover the next morning that it had been cows moving around down there in the dark.) Then, on the way to Hamburg to deliver a package, he put his hand through a train compartment window when their car jerked, and was declared unfit for battle because of a stiff thumb. He still remembers the moaning of wounded soldiers from the Soviet front in that Hamburg military hospital where he lay until his mother, undertaking the long journey from Vienna, rescued him and took him home. (It was about this time that my Dad lost his brother, Cliff, as the plane carrying him and other young recruits disappeared from the radar screens — see letter below.) She had organized his transfer through an important doctor that she knew. After his convalescence he was allowed to continue his studies, and heard about the end of the war over the radio in a friend’s apartment in Vienna’s fourth district on the eighth day of May, 1945 (where he was staying because the Allied Forces had been carpet bombing his neighbourhood near the main train station — my first home in Europe from 1986 till 1999). If the Germans had developed their radar technology sooner, or if that train hadn’t made a sudden stop, my wife may never had been born, as her father would certainly have been sent to battle and been killed, or died slowly as a prisoner-of-war in Russia, like his father.

**(By the time of the Battle of Britain in mid-1940, the Royal Air Force had fully integrated radar as part of the national air defence. By contrast, the German Funkmessgerät was neglected, partly due to Adolf Hitler’s prejudice against defensive measures, and failings by the Luftwaffe in coherently incorporating the new technology.)

Papa went on to serve his country for three decades as head of the Regional Land Use Commission, receiving the national Decoration of Honour in recognition of his outstanding integrity and dedication, from the Chancellor, when he retired in 1987.

We might not experience all-encompassing war in Europe again*** (if the Western neocons don’t  provoke Russia into further defensive measures) but a similar firestorm is brewing in Asia and the Middle East as I write these words. May mankind soon choose enlightenment and benevolence over baser motivations. Surely we have been deeply prepared for that higher destiny.

Best wishes,
Edward

***(Almost one-and-a-half centuries before the last world war, here in Eichgraben, some of Napolean’s troops — actually Bavarian soldiers, speaking German like the locals — bullied one of the innkeepers, stealing his goods and insulting him. Seven of them were murdered in their drunken sleep by a few pitchfork wielding farmers, but one escaped to report back to his commanding officer in nearby Purkersdorf. A squadron came here to punish the locals with brutality and a high fine, which was mostly paid by a Viennese merchant who lived in this area.) (A couple hundred years before that, Europe was filled for thirty years with terrorist armies and mercenaries that raped, pillaged and murdered each other and innocent women and children in the name of Jesus Christ, mostly Protestants against Catholics, but even some who were on the same side — France against the, mostly Austrian, Holy Roman Empire. The terror is carried forward genetically to countless suffering descendents, even today.) (… And who knows what the Romans and Celts, and the occasional barbarian from north of the Danube, got up to here one-and-a-half millennia before that!)

Cliff, would-be uncle of Ed, missing in action

Beyond the matrix of my mind

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Where’s that place, so hard to find,

Beyond the matrix of my mind?

Cool, inviting, precious Light

Lift me to my heart’s Delight.

~e.s.

sharing Self-realization via film production

A few years ago a friend of ours was among the runners-up for a prestigious international short films award. After the viewing ceremony, a celebrity in the audience (Natalie Portman) sent Silvina a note telling that she had never felt such a deep experience from a spiritual film before.

May the Force be with us.

there is such a thing as a real state of meditation …

… but, unfortunately for so many (including misled children), ‘mindfullness’ has nothing to do with it.

the Broccoli Blues

“Oh dear! Who let Ed into the kitchen?”

some days …

all those precious sincerely benevolent gems

life is a stage

Life is a stage —
Act your part
With all your heart

MEDITATION – THE LAST LINE OF DEFENSE

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stay safe and influence world peace — know your own heart and mind

Ω

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TIME is an illusion (when we rise above it)

time-is-an-illusion

Time is an illusion

There is always enough of it for us to rise up

and enjoy the big picture

in meditation

whenever we choose

e.s.

Eddie’s Mousie Valentine Song 2017

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( just for you! 💗 )

who’s got the trump card? …

Don’t forget: whatever happens, Trump and all the Big Bad Boys ain’t got NOTHIN’ on THIS Power! (individual and collective) …
(Subtle Tsunami ) …
(meditate ) …
(just sayin’  ) …

Jesus-statue thoughtless awareness

meditate-from-my-facebook-page-copy

Ed-olution (birthday 1983)

Ed found! (Delhi 1983)

For the period of about a year-and-a-half after I finally found out how to actually meditate in April 1982 (having put in much effort already for eight years, without benefit) and I moved away from the party neighbourhood of my youth, there seem to be no photos of my amazing progress. Now, by chance, I saw THAT Ed, exactly thirty-four birthdays ago, strolling along with a wedding procession in the heart of New Delhi!

I had arrived alone at 2:00 a.m. in humid Bombay two weeks before, after anbombay-marine-drive-1983 exhausting series of flights, with an overweight suitcase and a phone number. It was the first international journey in my quarter century of life on Earth. (Little did I guess then that I would return to India more than twenty times!) Someone back home in Vancouver had just bought my ’65 Chevy panel van, enabling me to join my new yogi friends on the India tour. A kindly airport police officer 65-chevy-panel-vanhelped me reach the others, already a huge, international group of pilgrims, and that very evening I met Shri Mataji, the founder and teacher of Sahaja Yoga meditation, on the first of many joyful occasions over the coming days, years and decades, in various countries.

Among the many memorable events in Delhi was our viewing of the new Gandhigandhi-movie-poster movie in the cinema that it had world premiered in just nine weeks before. (As a girl, Shri Mataji had spent time with Gandhi at his ashram, where he would sometimes implement Her advice on spiritual issues.) I remember walking out of that air-conditioned building and looking up at the hot, wide blue sky, realizing that those historic happenings had taken place not long ago under this very canopy.

I was lucky to be among those few of us from Canada (at that time there were only a handful of people practicing Sahaja Yoga in North America) that were invited to stay for a few days with Shri Mataji in Her daughter’s house. Several massive public programs were held throughout the city, and I attended my first puja, which celebrated Shivaratri at that time. At the compound where we all met each day, someone organized a cake and candles 🎂, and some new friends sang Happy Birthday to me that third day of February … so long ago, now! I drank lots of yummy chai there, discovering too late that the caffein was brutal on my sensitive liver. We also travelled up to the Himalayan foothills, where I saw some Indian girls enjoy snow for the first time. I spent that wonderful month in India without getting sick, a bit of a miracle (although as soon as I got back to the West I cleared out quite thoroughly!)

I still feel all that as a solid building block in my evolution, and this unexpected window view now brings a fresh breeze to grownup Ed.💨

(And, adding an interesting twist to the perspective: I happen to be turning 59 now, the same age Shri Mataji was when we first met back then!)

Shri Mataji gave each of us a present that afternoon (6 Feb 1983)
They were original Indian artworks. Somehow I managed to hold on to mine (the only thing I have left from my early twenties). It now hangs in my little art-studio in our homestead in the Vienna Woods:

Shri Saraswati Goddess of Art and Knowledge

Shri Saraswati
Goddess of Art and Knowledge

(read more here …)

https://edwardsaugstad.com/reaching-the-top-reloaded/

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🖐🏼 💨

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