On the Divine
Person by Frank
Marrero , For Beloved
Avatara Adi Da Love-Ananda,
Samraj, Eleutherios, The Bright Ruchira
Buddha The First Time I remember the first time I saw the face of
Bubba Free John; noble, happy, beautiful; in an
advertisement in the East West Journal in 1975,
promoting a book humorously entitled "Garbage and
the Goddess", with decco artistry surrounding this
teacher. I didn't order a copy, thinking, "Well, if
I were the dependent, guru-ing type of person, he'd
be the one, at least he looks truly happy," and I
seemed to forget about it. But I loved to read about all that kind of
stuff, graduate of the sixties that I was. Sure
enough, soon it came, down the pike of my
casualness. In February, 1976 a lovely lady I had
convinced (like myself) that my puer eternalis,
(eternally youthful) enthusiastic, casual egoic
style was spiritual, asked me to read a book she
had just read, but didn't understand. "Sure, I'll
read it and tell you what I think about it," I
remember saying to her. It was the same book I had seen and not bought.
It was a chronicle, a record of events and
conversations surrounding a several month "teaching
demonstration" called Garbage and the Goddess- and
it reflected a freedom and brilliance that I was
unable to comprehend entirely. The sections I did
understand were brilliant, but Iremained without
understanding relative to the Teacher. I had never read anything like it before. I told
the lovely lady that I would have to read the other
two books by the Wild Master before I could give
her my definite opinion. Not only did my intimate partner, Denise and I
consume the other two books, The Knee of Listening
and The Method of the Siddhas, but then everything
we could find. We ran and owned a successful hardware store and
had a large circle of friends. We told our friends
of our interest in the Teachings of this God-man,
and made it known throughout the general community
that we wanted to share this interest. One evening we heard a knock on the door and
opened it. Standing there, in roaring twenties
attire, giant feather sticking up from his wide
brimmed hat, with a suitcase in his hand, was a
sweet and desperate man. "I hear you've been asking
about Bubba Free John." We invited him in. "My name is Jimbeau Walsh and I have seen this
man Bubba Free John. I sat with him at Persimmon,
His Sanctuary in the mountain in northern
California. I cannot describe it, but I can tell
you that afterwards, when I came back down into San
Francisco, I would look at all the people, but only
could see their dreams. It began to drive me crazy.
While it was the greatest thing ever, it was too
much for me to handle and so I must divorce myself
from it. Please take this," he handed us the
suitcase, "It's got every magazine, every tape,
every booklet. I believe you will enjoy it very
much, but it was too much for me." We accepted the
suitcase. With glee Jimbeau postulated, "You have not
heard His voice, have you?" Denise and I both prepared ourselves to hear the
voice of a divinely intoxicated being. Jimbeau put
a tape in our machine and pushed the button. Free
laughter filled the room; deep, long, free
laughter-the Master playing with His devotees. I
was delighted with His obvious freedom, kindness,
and fullness. This was no other-worldly
philosopher. He cared, He was full of life and
laughter. Iwas so glad. When Jimbeau left that evening he gave us his
picture of Bubba. Denise and I put the picture on a
chest of drawers and quickly consumed every tape,
booklet, and magazine in the suitcase. A force
began to grow in our lives, and soon the force was
uncomfortable. Denise and I looked at each other one day, both
agreed that the force was too much, it threatened
our entire living. We put the picture down, put
everything back in the suitcase and shoved it, like
pornography, way under the bed. Three days later,
cleansed of our pornographic approach, we agreed to
open the suitcase again. It was a serious moment
when we did. We knew it was a great force we were
dealing with, for it threatened our secure little
lives. We decided to visit the community of students
surrounding Bubba and check it out for ourselves.
We contacted the Dawn Horse Communion and let them
know we would be coming to San Francisco in January
1977, after the Christmas rush at our hardware
store. Everything was set. Then, just after
Christmas we got a letter that asked us not to
come, due to conditions beyond their control. We
were in the midst of preparing to leave for one
month in California. We called the bookstore and found out that Bubba
had just taken everyone through another long, wild
teaching demonstration, known as "Indoor Summer"
and they were not in the position to receive
anyone. I protested and got handed off to a man who
became dear to me, and who would later teach me
volumes on the Master's wisdom on children, Peter
Churchill. He explained how everyone was in
purification and recovery, and Denise and I would
find little reception. When I explained I understood that, he
confessed, "It's a free country, if it's here you
want to be, no one is stopping you. Tell Steve Leto
at the bookstore I sent you." My thanks to Peter forever, for not only that
moment but many ones thereafter just like it. I remember walking up the steps of the
PolkStreet bookstore, San Francisco, January 2,
1977 knowing I was about to meet people who had
danced intoxicatingly with a spiritual mad-man. Yet
a formality, a seriousness, and humorous freedom
was common to everyone, beyond each egoic bent.
Good news, Ithought, the center of the hive must be
truly sweet. We offered our services entirely. Denise was
given service with the office crew, but I had
offered my help in the book ordering department
since it took way too long to get books from them
and I knew I could help. I was escorted to a small,
inside room filled with books, a file cabinet, and
a desk. "This is Frank Marrero, Lynn, he wants to
help us with our book ordering." "Oh good, I'm late for a job interview now,"
Lynn grabbed his coat, and darted for the door.
"Oh, let me show you how it's done" and gave me a
70 second accounting of how to fill book orders;
three by five cards, shoe boxes, and orders. It was strange: I worked alone. Lynn must have
gotten the job. There was no one in charge in the
usual way, no one I could go to and ask anything.
They simply trusted I would do the service well,
and I guessed they were glad to have me. I decided
on a new accounting system, and the adjustment
freed many of the books. I was able to work eight
hours a day. Twice a day, I went to the post office
with as many books as I could carry. Three weeks later I had cleared the table and
melted into the society. The biggest surprise I had
of the Community (of about 800 people worldwide,
500 in Northern California) was its forewarned
unfriendliness: there was no welcome, no 'isn't
Bubba great, no 'gee whiz'. No one saying, 'I'm so
glad you found the truth.' Far from it. It was
closer to 'what are you doing here? Who do you
think you are?' My doubts were even encouraged
rather than dismissed or glossed over-and no one
played with me in my usual personality games. It
was so refreshing. And near the end of our stay, I came upon a
devotee, David Patten, who was friendly and lively,
and passionately spoke of the teaching-and not just
at the expected times. Through him, I could see
that the culture was indeed alive. Denise and I were informed that the Master was
in Hawaii writing, but we could go visit Persimmon
Sanctuary, His nearby ashram, 110 miles north of
San Francisco. I didn't understand that this was a
great gift, but instead went in the mood of a
spiritual tourist. We drove our van three hours to Persimmon (The
Mountain of Attention) where we were received by
residents who gave us service assignments and
directed our activities. The sanctuary was
temporarily for sale, and the guardedness that
surrounded the holy sites was significantly
loosened. I didn't get it, I had a rake in my hands
and was raking the Master's lawn around His house,
but I was more perturbed than appreciative. Yucky
weather. Self-possessed. After dinner, we swam and floated luxuriously in
Ordeal Bath Lodge, then invited for evening
chanting in a communion hall, Laughing God Hall,
later to be known as Temple Eleutherios. It would
be the only time I would ever see the inside of
this precious ground. I liked the chants. They
weren't the nauseating sing-songy, affectively
over-amped emotionalism I had feared. Simple
repetitive melodies; I remember sitting in a pure
space, chanting, "God only, God only, God only,
only God. God only, only God. God only, only
God." As I sat in the temple, I noticed the usual
punkish internal chatter fall away as a mysterious
feeling pervaded me and the room. Very impressive,
fascinating even. I decided that I would start
sending the Communion $100 a month. I took a movie of Bubba named "Laughter" back to
Tennessee to show my friends, mostly because He
humorously mentioned "the divine is like a hardware
store " when answering a devotee's question. Back in Nashville, I began loaning books and
talking very positively about feeling the divine
and adapting to the mood of service. It was little
more than my egoic shine. I rented a projector and
Denise and I showed the movie "Laughter" to a large
group of our friends. Many devotees came through
that room. One day Denise and I were reading the dharma,
the liberating word, when she looked up and said,
"When you're ready to move to California, I want
you to know that's fine with me." My luxurious life was no obstacle to spiritual
life. I protested, "The Teaching is not about
seeking, it's about feeling and serving in place .
. blah blah blah . . ." She calmly listened and agreed, "I know, I just
want you to know it's OK if we move; I am
profoundly struck, totally taken, stunned even by
Bubba's enquiry, 'Avoiding relationship?'" -a part
of the Teaching I did not really understand that
deeply. Several of my friends had turned on to the
Teaching by this time; we began to meet and
regularly discuss it; we opened a restaurant and
called it, "The Laughing Man." It was an
overwhelming success. My financial success with the hardware store and
restaurant gave us great latitude; Denise and I
planned a trip in late November. Portland, San
Francisco, New Orleans, Barbados. Our tickets came
and we prepared to travel. Then we got a call:
Bubba will be sitting and we were invited on a
certain date; just so happens that it was the exact
date we had already set aside for a Northern
California visit. Hmm, how lucky. By this time, Denise and I had been studiously
applying ourselves to the Teaching for almost two
years. I was amazed by the brilliance and insight,
but remained troubled by the Master's proclamations
of his own divinity. From Christian scare-tactics
to egoic disbelief, that another person was
proclaiming absolute divinity raised my doubts to a
high level. And rightly so, for how a person
surrenders to God is the most sacred act. I dearly wanted to lay my eyes upon Him, I had a
deep feeling that before death, I would like to
gaze upon a magnificient divine person. He was a
prime candidate. We sat in a large hall at Talking God Seminary
in Clearlake, California with 400 other students.
Bubba answered questions for a couple of hours
which was the basis of "Change Your Action"
cassette tape. The first time I laid eyes on him, I scanned Him
like a hawk, looking for subtle abuses of His
position, trying to catch where He got off on it. I
watched and listened intently for two hours. Clean, Ithought. I was actually surprised; I was
sure I could catch a moment where he would steal
some attention, but only loving service was
observed. That didn't mean he was God, maybe really
true, maybe a god, a perpetually creative genius,
but God in Person? "OK", I thought, "he may not be God, cause I
would think I would know, cause I'm cool, right?
So, at least he's clean, and I got this good
feeling about him." Like I'm from Brooklyn, he's
from Long Island, I check the guy out. But I never saw my overdoubting nor anything
other than goodness and radical notions from Him. I
used to say, "It's real bright," and knew it felt
different than anything else, including being
outdoors, which was the next best thing for me. I
didn't find His personal company overwhelming, but
I could tell something was working and it felt very
true. The man-divinity issue was unresolved in me, but
this brilliant man was certainly free, simple, and
loving-and it was obvious that it would be wise to
live closer within His sphere. I considered distant ownership of my businesses
as they could run essentially without me. But that
was not the moment. It was the time to weigh a
priviledged life with eternal life. We ended up leaving a very comfortable
lifestyle, our home, and all of our friends and
dearest relatives to go live where there were other
people living nearby this Bubba Free John. I
couldn't really tell you why at the time, except
I'd say it seemed like I had been truly given an
invitation, wide open. We arrived in Santa Rosa on
February 23rd, 1978. And while I was not as emotionally impressed by
the Teacher as Ihad hoped, the Teaching arguments
impressed me whole-heartedly. His early purity has
always blessed me, Denise and I adapted to a community life which
was quite demanding. Friday evenings were yours,
every other moment was filled. We took up the
disciplines of meditation, service, study, meeting
and consideration, a purifying vegetarian diet,
confinement of sexuality to twice a month, right
livelihood, and maximizing our tithe or financial
support. It was difficult to purify the body and mind so
directly. I wanted to leave often and when the
difficulty peaked, I would go to shopping malls and
watch the people walk by. I recalled crazy Jimbeau
who saw peoples' dreams and would remember why I
was enduring the heat. I thought the Teaching was brilliant and the
only remaining question I had was about the person
at the center. Yet, I always noted how my doubts
were never denied me, never outshined by gleeful
enthusiasm, never discounted by powerful believers.
The Free One made very clear that His "Me" was not
a reference to the "meat-body Free John," but the
Voice of the Condition of Truth, very God, infinity
speaking, not ego. But I didn't get it and didn't
believe it either. I did not understand the
ecstatic voice of a God-Man when talking about
Himself. Bubba's proclamation of God, the absolute
Divine Person I could not fathom, despite all the
rest of the profound insights and understandings. I
justified my doubts, and persisted in maintaining a
'watch and see' attitude.
See My Brightness, Face to Face, p. 15 The Divine Person as Bubba Free John eloquently
and simply wrote, "What is it that you mean, that you are
signifying and pointing to, when you say or feel
you are suffering, unhappy, not at ease? You are
pointing to your own action and finding it is the
experience of separation, contraction, pain. But it
is the compulsive and presently not-conscious
avoidance of relationship, relative to the Divine
Presence, and relative to all arising conditions.
When this action becomes your responsibility, then
these experiences and concerns will become obsolete
by degrees in the action of God-Communion, and then
in the intuition of your true Condition." -Breath and Name 3.1 "No practice realizes truth. Truth is realized
through the inspection of experience to the point
of realizing that experience has no obligatory
force and that none of it is the purpose of
spiritual life. The point is this single
responsibility, this single principle, this single
inspection of your state in this moment, of your
Narcissistic self-concern, of your contraction
toward fear. Be responsible for that contraction so
that you exist instead as Love or God-Communion.
That is everything. That is the whole teaching. "There is nothing to be attained. There is a
single principle for which we may become
responsible and that is God Realization. Not the
way to God Realization. It is God-Realization
itself. It is the disposition in Truth. It is the
Way of life. Once it is Realized, nothing else
obliges us. "There is only one discipline: to become
responsible for the contraction of
feeling-attention by moving beyond fear in every
moment into the disposition of love. It is the only
discipline. If you hear this, you do not have to do
anything else. It does not change or grow. It is
simple, direct, absolute. Live this process with me
and it is always the same." -The Way That I Teach pp. 66-67
Experiences, Visions, Sounds, Lights, Energies,
Sublime Things, and all knowing, within and without, are not
Knowledge or Realization at all. Therefore, I bow
down to the One Who is always already
Established in the Mindless Mood of the Transcendental
Self. 85. The Ancient Scriptures all declare: "It is not
this, It is not that. " All the Teachings point beyond all objects to
the Subjective Source of all objects. All objects and selves are only
apparent and unnecessary conditions of That
Condition. 86. The Master is Himself That very
Source-Condition or Transcendental Self-Principle. So He Is, by
Virtue of Realization, and so do all the Scriptures declare. Beloved Adi Da's The Hymn of the
Master Chapter
Two: I Didn't Understand Chapter
Three: The Secret Place Chapter
Four: Welcome to the Gom-Boo Chapter Six: The Cult of
Pairs Revisited Chapter Seven: The Thief
Chapter Eight: The Storm of
the Century Chapter Nine: The Christmas
Miracle
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Rahasya, Chap
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