Mahadev

One of my gurus died recently. He was one of those gurus, you can’t imagine a bigger guru than this man. One of those gurus, you are ashamed to call him your guru because, who am I? Mark Ji. Mark D. Mark Dyczkowski. I’m sure he had flaws, the same as we all have flaws. I was never one to put gurus on a pedestal. I don’t know if he had any deep flaws, but I imagine that when he looked at himself, he saw areas that needed improvement. If you have no flaws, you have no work to do. And he was still doing work, changing his practice, evolving spiritually, personally, evolving in every way until the day he died.

I knew him, for about 20 years. It was a few years before I went to meet him. I was always an irregular student. He was surrounded by such great scholars working in their PhD’s; and who am I, right? Many times I think he forgot who I was, my identity changed all the time. You know, oh, you’re that acupuncturist. Oh, you’re that astrologer. Oh, yeah, you’re the yogi; the Canadian living around the corner. He always seemed to remember me as something else. It was very sweet.

And a very sweet man with all of his students. Very, very sweet man. Go for dinner after, smoke chillum sometimes after. A little sitar before his lectures. I lived almost next door, so to say hello or a few words in the ally, a very sweet man. 

He was a great sitar player, a scholar, translator one of the great minds of the last generation, unrecognized by the masses but adored by the specialists. I often describe him as the reason we know much of what we know about Tantra in English.

He completed his life’s work, the Tantra Loka. One of the great tomes of philosophy and spirituality, you could call it the Bible of Tantra, the heart of Tantra, the Kali Kaula, that dark, spooky, esoteric stuff that boils down to the grammar and syllables and phonetics of the mind that structures our thoughts and our reality. The movement of consciousness from the universal to the particular, to construct, maintain and destroy the whole universe. A pulsation Shiva to Shakti; how the matter and spirit are dancing together.

He described it so beautifully. He had such a beautiful heart, the way he saw time being devoured, identities, thoughts, actions, things. All just rising up to feed Kali; the ancient womb of the universe so that she can give birth to every galaxy, every dimension. Like the wheat we grow and eat as bread; like chickens that are raised for slaughter. It’s not us she is fattening up; it nothing personal. The universe expands to is maximum the way a soup has to be cooked just right with all the right ingredients before she ladders it out to her children; each with their portion (allotted and experience; a certain perception). This is the kind of stuff he used to talk about.

And Magic mantra; oh how he laughed at magic mantra. He could laugh at himself. He like Spike Milligan’s comedy: spontaneous and disruptive. He was from lineages of Sanderson; Swami Lakshmanjoo; and I’m sure he would add several. In Varanasi, the cremation ground is everyone’s guru. The tantra of Varanasi is closer to a death cult Tantra. It’s not sexy and sensuous; at least these qualities are not in the surface. This is a place where physical identities burn; we through our lives in the fire and hope to ride the smoke to the heavens.

And all of this is just passing show of theater, a beautiful play in Lila. Kali Mataji devouring all of it when we’re in fear for our life, our identities. But when it’s not fear, it’s just a beautiful play and a dance. The experience of it might make you laugh and cry as True Reality is devoured. When we leave the theatre we come back to reality; we do not hold onto the traumas of play. We let it all go. 

But when it’s really fine art; it allows you to witness something sublime inside yourself. Witnessing: acting without action.

Mark kicked me out of a class once. I’d seen him do it to several people; even big gurus. He took his topic seriously. I didn’t blame him; neither of us took it personally. I told him off once he didn’t take that personally either. Or maybe he just didn’t remember me. I wasn’t a good student in that way; perhaps more like Eklavia; worshiping him from a distance. The only reason I went to see him in the first place was because I heard he got along better with the outcastes than with the Brahmins. I did get to massage his feet. He was going to get acupuncture to relieve the swelling of his legs but declined the acupuncture at the last minute. I don’t suppose it did much good; he didn’t take a second visit. And I don’t remember what brought me over there, but it was before you could get a good coffee in Varanasi. His wife was there and she made me a cup; it among the best coffees I’ve ever had. 

After his passing it felt like a star had exploded, and I saw it with several of his students, a tremendous  spiritual energy. He left of a legacy that will allow us to look even more deeply into our own hearts; to ride the smoke of these illusions to our own sovereignty and freedom that is unconditional by its very nature. With great love and respect. 

Mahadev.