Walks with Yogi: The Enlightenment Experiment

The blog is now a published book! It has both old writing and new. Quite a bit was cut as it was redundant or not what I wanted in the book. Overall, I am amazed that this long journey (five years) has led to this.

Thank you blog followers for helping make this book a reality!

Please see the publisher’s web page for the book. Here is the link:



Here is the link for the catalog. My book is under Non-Fiction



Poem by Pablo Neruda

by Pablo Neruda

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

Martha’s Vineyard Atlantic Ocean(photo by Deb Hart)


My friend, Debbie Hart, lives on Martha’s Vineyard. We have started a new collaboration of  her photos and my writing.


A roar
then a hush
the wild Atlantic
the shore
with the abandon
of a tiger or a bear
charging across
a field
or a whale
breaking a wall of water.
This is what happens
in the Winter, in the cold Spring
before and after
tourists land on Martha’s Vineyard
from their city cages
their narrow gated lives.
to be home again
we all cry with joy
like seagulls.

After Publishing #2

I should have expected this, but it surprised me. My ego, my “self” that always needs approval is not satisfied that I found a publisher and actually had the book published. Ego is never satisfied.  Do more! It insists. Get more approval! If it could, it would force everyone it sees to buy the book. And like it, dammit! I know my ego well, having journeyed with it for many years now. I used to think it was me. I used to think it was a grown-up self, but it is just a child–after all, it acted like it knew everything and was just annoyed how others did not see that. I was following the lead of a deprived, confused child. Egos don’t grow up. Even if they have jobs and dive cars.

Addictions of all kinds and distorted perceptions keep us child-like. My ego is still grasping for approval; it’s painful to see that, but clear sight heals.  Shame is the ego embarrassed to be seen. I heard a wise teacher say we must be vigilant gate-keepers at the door of the mind and I see how easily the ego-child slips in without my noticing. A true grown-up  can discern what is true and false, is a protector of his or her own mind. A true grown-up might write a book, but doesn’t expect applause or results or recognition. The work is done. May it serve someone.