A Monkey's Tale On the Divine Person by Frank Marrero , For Beloved Leelas in Praise of Beloved Da, Avatara Adi Da Love-Ananda, Samraj, Eleutherios, The Bright Ruchira Buddha Chapter One: 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. "Understanding is re-cognition, direct seeing of the fundamental and always present activity that is suffering, ignorance, distraction, motivations, and dilemma. When this activity is thus known again, there is spontaneous and unqualified Enjoyment of What it excludes-That Which is always already the case, always already there." 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 63. 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 Table of Contents  Preface Chapter One: The First Time Chapter Two: I Didn't Understand Chapter Three: The Secret Place Chapter Four: Welcome to the Gom-Boo Chapter Five: Body of Light Chapter Six: The Cult of Pairs Revisited Chapter Seven: The Thief Chapter Eight: The Storm of the Century Chapter Nine: The Christmas Miracle Chapter Ten: Divine Radar Chapter Eleven: The Last Night Chapter Twelve: The Aftermath Return to Beezone Articles

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"The perfect among the sages is identical with Me. There is absolutely no difference between us"
Tripura Rahasya, Chap XX, 128-133