Thursday, January 22, 2015

Posting the photos mentioned in the book...

There are several photographs referred to in the text which the publisher saw fit not to include, so I am putting them up here...

Taken in the room where he used to wear the dress 
and act out his home-made Sufi ritual
 (thus returning himself to the home state ... )
The bright flash from the camera reminds him of the light.

Me and my big brother David, at primary school
(he's the confident one!)

Two sissy boys ! 
My friend Kenny poses like a starlet in a movie magazine, 
while I'm trying to shrink right out of frame...

My parents are proud, but I'm secretly wondering: 
"Is that all there is?" 
(I didn't find what I was looking for at the university ... )

My father, Franklin, striding through London Court.  
Everyone said he looked like the Duke of Edinburgh.

He was a handsome man in his bachelor days!

But after a bleak childhood as a Ward of the State, 
he was really happy to be included in the family circle.
(My mother looks on, adoringly, at his left.)

My Yankee Grandma. She hailed from Coshocton County, Ohio.
A constant source of love and support. 

My parents, in love.

That's my brilliant, self-fulfilling sister Valerie, on the left. 
(She wears the six-gun!)

My mother administers one of her blistering 'permanent waves'
to her sister, Verna.

The author as hippie actor, Nimrod St Theatre, 1971.

I was much happier in service to my teacher! 
The Western instructors, gathered with Maharaji around a map of the world.
(Can you pick me out?)

Happy indeed, to be singing the praises
(Grote St., Adelaide satsang hall, late 70s)

Happy gathering of the New Zealand devotees.
Note the brilliant Julie Collet on the left of the large photo, with her hand raised.
(I'm already losing my hair ... )

The author, today! 
He has lost all his hair, but I guess you would have to say he is happy!

This one will make sense to those who've been reading the book; this is Nipper, the little dog from the old ads for HMV (His Master's Voice), an icon for me from my days on the road in Japan, particularly, and mentioned in the opening chapter where I am clearing up the old family homestead and much later on  in the sequence, when I'm  teaching meditation on behalf of my teacher (hence, "his master's voice") and trying to attend to his voice ("the faintest whisper, amidst earth's loudest throng").

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