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the lotus

an autobiography

     Its flattering when someone writes about you. Accolades and accomplishments, its an overcoat. One day fitting nicely and later discarded for the crave of something new. I know, I've worn a few.  

 For now, these are my words, and here is my story. Born and Raised in Hermosa Beach, California. A surfer, a professional drummer and a visual artist. I became Maxwellvision. Blessed, I have drummed on hundreds of published recordings and toured many parts of the world. My artworks have been exhibited in reputable galleries and my collectors are many. Always producing art and music, I was   living the dream, and the dream became an illusion.

  Like a candle burning at both ends, I was burning out.

Then unexpectedly, not long ago, my outer world was shattered and my inner world collapsed. Walking on a path shrouded with illusions, I had mislead myself and broke my own heart. Who I had become was the bitter fruit of a garden neglected and the coats in the closet had become my skeletons.

    I fell from grace. I closed the doors on the light of hope. Seeking an answer to why such fate, I crawled to a temple and there a monk gave me a string of beads. He said welcome home. I learned the mahamantra and I began to chant. Like a drowning man reaching for rope, I chanted, and my chanting was heard.   

      A beam of light, pure light, light from every star, sun and moon found its way into the four corners of my             exile and rushing over me like a great flood I was silenced. Without a word I heard this message;          'Who you are now     

 is what you have been.

   Who you will be 

  is what you do now'.

       I became om jaya. A man rebirthed, not purified but humbled.

Shed of the coats of my ego, for the first time I saw who the man in the mirror was. 

     Then I had a dream and a voice said, 'she is a piano, its her time now, find her, learn and love her. That same day before the sun set, an abandoned piano was carried up the antique stairs of my studio. And there she was, untuned and dusty, quietly waiting for someone to love her again, and that lover was me. I found her to be a healing tool and my perfect companion. She needs only one note to touch me and laying my hands on her gives a voice to my soul. Stumbling across her body, she taught me to slow down, to simplify, to go deep and to play the way I feel, not the way I think. 

  I have become a pianist. A composer. Not one of practice and theory but one of listening and reflection. Now, like a lotus blooms thru the mud, here I am, sharing with you the fruits of my dharma.


blessings from om jaya

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