Thomas P. “Gyandeva” Grasso, whatever age, citizen of the world, passed away at his home, wherever that home may have been. He was surrounded by his loved ones, including several of those he had never met, while he was doing something he loved, and likely thinking about what the end was going to mean (since the end can never come). He was likely debating the pros and cons of death, and found himself to be, as always, right.
Tom was a world traveler, even though he rarely left the United States. He loved everyone, although everyone didn’t always return the favor. He tried, as he might, to ease the suffering of others whether through fire department work, EMS work, or simply reminding them how stupid they were being listening to the voices others had implanted into their heads. He once amassed some measure of wealth, and considered himself blessed when he lost it all. He considered his greatest failures successes of enormous magnitude, and found that his life began the moment he discovered he had nothing left to lose.
In lieu of flowers, Gyandeva requests that you take yourself (and no one else) out for a good healthy meal, followed by a pleasurable round of self-gratification (in whatever way you find your SELF gratified). If you have a partner, please exhibit public displays of affection in a way to make conservatives cringe, and then beat up a homeless person to make them happy again. Donations can be made to the charity of your choice, although most charities will take your money and do very little in return with it. Rather, perhaps putting your money in the burlap bag Tom wants to be buried in will do much more.
Funeral will be held in the woods somewhere, where he will be given back to the Nature that gave him life. He looks forward to becoming worm food and fertilizer. He also hopes that he travels far and wide in the intestines of some wolf somewhere, and then is neatly deposited in a nice little pile along some polluted stream. Please try to avoid stepping on Tom in this case, but if you do, please try to be respectful in your cursing and polite in scraping him off.
By the way, Tom wants to inform you that there is no light at the end of the tunnel, because there is no tunnel. Please stop focusing on the dark specs you see on the blanket of light, that’s probably wolf shit better left undisturbed. After all, wolves don’t like when you mess with their shit.
Love is Labor-less
I cannot chase you, or hound you, or wish myself upon you. I cannot search for you, or turn over stones to see you, or break boulders to uncover you. I know this is what you want, how you find value in your existence, how I can prove myself to you over and over again.
Understand that I am busy traveling; walking as I may through the dust and the mud and the perfect fields of endless flowers. Understand that love is not a labor to me, it is labor-less. Understand that my commitment to you is to clear a path where we both can walk, if you choose, to wherever we are going.
So, walk with me if you want. Share with me unbridled passion if you choose. That’s where you’ll find the proof, not from the blood of my blistered hands digging for your treasure, but in the sweat of my brow as you share it.
Come, as you are, and we will walk hand-in-hand for a while.
Ah, how you come into my mind at the most random of moments. How I find my mind’s hands on your body, my lips on yours, all of me on all of you. How I can smell you, taste you, and want you without you even being near. How certain parts of me respond to certain thoughts of moments that haven’t even yet been created.
How in my purest moments thoughts of you create a stirring words cannot describe. How I can feel me enter you, and how I can sense your eagerness in the taking. How we speak without words, and how thoughts of you enter my being even in the deepest parts of sleep.
How I think of you as your kiss empties this endless glass and fills it with a promise of the Universe. How you take mere mortal moments and make them outlive eternity; how the subtle touch of your tongue upon my skin brings life to this weary man. How you take the mind’s bad and create the heart’s good in nothing other than a glance. How I think of you brings life and joy to the deepest despair, and how I think of you brings strength to the weakest of moments.
Yes, how I think of you. How I want you. How I’m coming for you.
A story from Ram Dass’ “How can I Help?”
A big, tough samurai once went to see a little monk. “Monk,” he said, in a voice accustomed to instant obedience; “teach me about heaven and hell!”
The monk looked up at this mighty warrior and replied with utter disdain, “Teach you about heaven and hell? I couldn’t teach you about anything. You’re dirty. You smell. Your blade is rusty. You’re a disgrace, and embarrassment to the samurai class. Get out of my sight. I can’t stand you.”
The samurai was furious. He shook, got all red in the face, was speechless with rage. He pulled out his sword and raised it above him, preparing to slay the monk.
“That’s hell,” said the monk softly.
The samurai was overwhelmed. The compassion and surrender of this little man who had offered his life to give this teaching to show him hell! He slowly put down his sword, filled with gratitude, and suddenly peaceful.
“And that’s heaven,” said the monk softly.
“if you could hear the song in my heart you would dance with me. We’d be dancing from sunrise to sunrise, stopping only to collapse into each other’s arms to write the next verse.” ~Tom Grasso