as i lay prostrate upon Mother Earth in an attempt to photograph the stupa-like, bare-heiny’d figure of Dewa beneath the generous-in-death dying of an apple tree, even feeble ilg began to realize that this Fatherhood Journey of mine connects me ike an eon-old phurba to all my kind Teachers, Deities, and Guides of my past as well as to the Ancient yogis, saints, and compassionate actions-no-matter-what of practitioners. though my ego would have preferred the path of hermit than to the endless ricocheting of schedules and time/energy demands inherent to being the householder yogi ilg now finds himself in…all i can say is that i sense beyond the shadow of a Buddha, that these daze/days are in fact, sacred topography upon the map of my ever-evolving Soul..and that all my outer Pilgrimages give birth again and again to an inner pilgrimage far more sacred, far more subtle, far more exquisite than my feeble incarnation can even imagine to place before thee in word or form or action of any kind…
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