When a Sacred Becomes Profane.- The Ego becomes the Shadow.

 I spent five days at 'The Farm' when I was asked to give the Captain a ride from the airport in Georgetown, along with a volunteer from Spain, to SRI LOVELY Organic Farm — the place I normally visit for my retreats. This time around, however, my visit was far from what I had expected. I found myself lost in my lower self, surrounded by many foreigners, mostly young women, and noticeably absent were the regular locals I was used to spending time with. It was a disorienting and uncomfortable experience.

I asked the Captain if I could leave the next day, but he requested I stay until Friday to give a ride to a volunteer from Italy who was heading back home. I agreed, but spent most of my time raking leaves and cleaning up the area, just to stay grounded in my routine.

Despite my efforts to stay detached, I found myself increasingly affected by the presence of the foreigners — two Americans, an Italian, a Spaniard, a German, and a local Chinese woman from Penang. Perhaps it was my own projection, or perhaps there was an unspoken tension, but I sensed I was being judged or warned against. Initially, they were warm and open, but overnight, they grew cold, suspicious, and even accusatory in their eyes.

I had no choice but to interact during meals, and I found myself wishing I had the means to leave the place at will. But I was strapped for cash and trapped in an emotional and psychological limbo.

I never felt so lost and out of place at a location I once called my sanctuary. Instead of peace, I was exposed to the rawness of my own ego and the banality of my lingering sexual desires. My lower self was pulled to the surface, mirroring past conflicts I faced during my time at the Zen monastery in California. I regressed. I fell into old patterns I had spent years trying to transcend. The whole experience felt like a test, and I was failing.

I don’t blame anyone, but I cannot shake the feeling that I was being played, used in some unseen way. Still, I acknowledge it could all be a projection, fueled by my unresolved weaknesses.

Now, back home in my quiet refuge, I am left to sit with the mental residue of the experience. I find myself obsessively reliving where I went wrong and how I allowed such turmoil into my consciousness. But I know what needs to be done. I must work through these inner disturbances from their roots, to bring equanimity back to a mind that clings to attachments simply because it lacks better thoughts to focus on.

It’s time to cut ties with the farm. It has changed. It has become just another roadside attraction for backpackers and seekers passing through. It is no longer the sacred retreat it once was for me. I must release it from my heart and walk away without bitterness or regret. It is time to move forward and find grounding in the here and now — at home, within.

This is a time for house cleaning, for letting go of what no longer serves my growth. A time to stop being Mr. Nice Guy. A time to protect the inner sanctum of my being.

                                 If you build the place, Capt. They will come, and came they did!

If this trip taught me anything, it's that I must begin withdrawing from events and entanglements that do not serve my self-preservation. I am still at the mercy of my Nafs, my ego.  I must burrow deeper into the cave of my own being and reflect deeply on what still needs healing. It is time to prepare — not out of fear, but out of mindfulness — for the final season of life, whenever it arrives.