God and the Axe Murderer
Spiritual Storty – God and the Axe Murderer
Zen Meditation Stories: Advaita Vedanta (non-dualism)
Chapter 1: Dr. Alluu
Blood was on his mind. Actually it was on his jacket, on his pants, on his shoes, on his car seat, in the trunk, and, of course, on his axe, Sparky. The difference was that the blood on his mind was going to flow later that night while the blood everywhere else had flowed at various times in his past. You see Zep was an axe murderer and he and Sparky had been, not only very busy in the past few years, but very successful as well. Together they had enjoyed 21 exciting feasts, but this one, Zep was especially excited about, it was the first time he was going to feast on a woman.
As the Pontiac sped along the hilly, dirt roads of Mountain County, Zep’s mind wandered back to his days spent with Dr. Alluu.
“Dr. Alluu, I wonder how he is making out in that Mental Asylum they locked him up in? What a freak, eh Sparks,” he exclaimed out loud glancing at the heavy chopping axe sitting on the passenger seat besides him.
“O that’s right sweetie, you never met him. I always forget. But you know love, he is the reason that we are together,” Zep continued, while running his fingers tenderly over the 21 notches carved into her thick blood reddened oak handle.
“You see Sparks, Doc knew the shortcut to God and he told me the way. Pure blood Zeppie boy, he would say, just one cup, but its gotta be PUURRRE,” Zep raised his voice and imitated Dr. Alluu. He widened his eyes, scrunched up his face and wheezed on, “Its like rocket fuel, rocket fuel for the soul. You can’t reach the heavens unless your rocket has the right fuel. All you need is one cup of pure stuff and bam. Bam! I said Zeppie boy, bam you are off and the only… landing spot… is the lap of God. Straight… yesss… straight into the arms of the Big Boy, boy. Non-stop flight, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars… one stop shopping Zeppie boy and all it takes is…,” shouting now, “What does it take Zep?” Zep’s excitement was evidently growing, he clutched the steering wheel tighter and floored the Pontiac while yelling, “Just one cup, Dr. Alluu, just one cup of pure blood and bam we are off!” Zep’s eyes flickered with determined eagerness as he now hissed over to his companion, “Sparky darlin’ you ready to do some huntin’?”
Chapter 2: Ma Nomaya
Zep had drank 21 cups of blood and yet he had failed to meet the Big Boy. Each time he had felt that the blood would be pure and each time he figured he had been wrong. But this time he felt it would be different. He had butchered 8 priests, 5 mullahs, 3 rabbis, 2 swamis, 2 monks and 1 new born baby, but none had been female and none were as well reputed as being a spiritual giant as Ma Nomaya.
Zep had involved himself with several religious groups in order to research potential feasts and the overall religious hoopla involving the visit of Ma Nomaya was the first of its kind that Zep had seen. She was apparently from the Himalayan region of India and unlike the 2 other Indian swamis that Zep had preyed upon, she did not represent a particular Eastern school of thought. Swami Megaannanda had been a proponent of Kundalini Yoga, while Swami Yamaannanda had been a firm believer in the path of Bhakti Yoga. Ma Nomaya, on the other hand, was a maverick of sorts who seemed to propose a philosophy, if it could even be called that, that was a peculiar mix of Tantra and Jyana Yoga. She was also nicknamed Ma Soochchor, meaning mind thief, because of her great psychic powers and abilities to read other people’s thoughts.
Zep thought about the teachings of Ma Nomaya. “You fools,” she would say, “You are all fools if you think you are going to get anywhere. I am serious… and therefore I am a fool now too. I am serious and have to be foolish to talk to you fools. Even though there is nothing to seriously say, if I don’t say it seriously you will not take it seriously, and because you take it seriously you are fools and I am making a fool of myself. Go have some sex for God’s sake, you are such a morbid, boring, foolish bunch. If you could just be foolish you will be fine… and since I said you are all foolish already obviously you are all fine… so happy humping!”
Zep laughed in delight.
Chapter 3: Blood
Zep pulled off the road and into a well hidden clearing about a mile outside the Ashram grounds. Gathering up Sparky and the Love Mug, as called the silver cup from which he drank the blood, he began to make his descent down the wooded hillside towards the valley below which housed the Ashram buildings. The thorny holly bushes scattered amongst the undergrowth were hard to spot in the pale moonlight and Zep cursed softly as the sharp thorns occasionally penetrated through his clothing and bit into his skin. He was glad that he had done his homework and had mapped out the shortest path to the cottage where he knew that Ma Nomaya was going to be residing.
Zep, now on his knees and elbows, Sparky in one hand and the Love Mug in the other, crept up to the window through which a flickering light of a soft candle was gently shinning through. Unfortunately for him that light was not enough to illuminate the prickly holly branch that opportunistically hung along the lower sill of the open window. He lay down the cup and reached up to grasp the sill only to find his palm squarely stabbed by a menacing thorn. He bit down on his lip to muffle the yelp that was forming deep in his stomach but was astonished when it seemed to escape him anyway.
Zep was startled. He was sure that he had not made a sound and yet he was sure that he heard a yelp at the exact time that he had been pricked by that wretched thorn. He glanced at his palm and noticed the blood trickling out of the tiny incision that had been left behind. He sat still for few anxious minutes listening intently for the sounds of life that may have been stirred by that mysterious yelp of his. He heard some rustling in the woods from where he had come. He waiting tensely. The rustling stopped and then there was silence again. The blood continued to trickle free.
Satisfied that the rustling was nothing more that a woodland critter, Zep again made his attempt to peer into the window. What he saw smashed into his being like a ton of bricks.
Chapter 4: Encounters
Looking straight back at him was Ma Nomaya, but what shocked Zep was that she was sucking on her palm. Time seemed to come to a screeching halt and Zep was frozen in place looking back at those eternal eyes that seemed to penetrate deep into his soul. Ever so slowly she withdrew her bleeding palm from her mouth and a tender smile crept across her blood reddened lips.
It occurred to him all at once. He glanced down at his own palm and brought his wounded hand to his lips. The only blood that was pure for him was his own. He realized at that moment that anything he added to himself from the outside would only work to contaminate him further. Ironically, in his own impurity lay his perfection. He succumbed to the reality of his imperfections. He was already full of the necessary fuel, all that had been needed was the turning of the ignition. Ma Nomaya had turned the key and Zep’s consciousness took off like a rocket, straight to the lap of God.
Infinite grace showered down on Zep and tears streamed down his cheeks as he felt the actuality of divinity encompass his world. The unending compassion and love of divinity soaked into every pore of his being and Zep felt himself being forgiven and purified. He fell to his knees and cried and whimpered in awe and humility.
“I am pure!” he cried out.
Somewhere in the corner of his reality, Zep heard the recently released Dr. Alluu’s voice, who had come to the Ashram looking for the same rocket fuel as well, “You are pure eh Zeppie boy, well I guess I can just drink your blood then!”
Yes, I believe I wrote this story during a time when I was encountering expansive Kundalini energy – perhaps it reflected that state of mind a bit.
The story of God and Axe murderer is very scary and violent and eery.