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The Israelis are dictating unfair terms to the Arabs.” I didn’t feel like
arguing with him. I liked John a lot and so decided to humor him.
When we got to Amman, I noticed how very little paranoia I felt in the
air. It felt pretty safe and I felt at home. John helped me lug my stuff as
I inquired about Petra and flights to Delhi. I had changed the Amman
to India flight four times in the course of this trip. Now I was doing it
again. I wanted more time in Jordan.
Amman was bustling and bursting with activity. It was a city resting
on hills, or jebels, as the natives called them. John and I checked into a
hotel and decided to just hang out. I noticed that the Dome of the Rock
was on every twenty-dinar bill, and that a huge photo of the Old City
hung on the wall of the Jerusalem restaurant. That’s where John took
me to eat. We helped ourselves to plenty of saffron-flavored rice and
grilled chicken.
I noticed that John was not unlike my earlier self, a highly educated
drifter. He had a logical and powerful mind and it was hiding a lot of
emotional baggage. We talked about science. John had been a physics
major. We talked about philosophy. “You have to define your terms,”
John declared. “What is the mind all about?” he asked. I looked for a
way to pierce his mental wall. “Well, the problem is the mind itself,” I
parried. “This thing that needs to constantly define things prevents us
from seeing the truth.” John was quick to lobby back a serve. “Oh, now
you’re sounding like Wittgenstein, man. That guy put philosophy on
top of its head. He said it was all just a meaningless game, unless you
wanted to put meaning into it. I don’t agree with that. Philosophy is an
important human activity. Humans need to do it.” There was a silence.
I saw my opening. John’s mind was blocking his heart and I sensed a
very deep and open heart across the table. I decided to let John experience
the sublime through PUJA! It worked. I did a Mahakala and the
next morning took off for Petra. John was calmer and he lent me his
watch. Mine had broken down. It was very early morning when I
plunged into the dark and deserted streets of Amman. I could hear the
muezzins serenading the city with their sweet and hypnotic wails. All of
this felt completely familiar.
The bus plowed through the desert highway at top speed. I was
munching stale pretzels and trying to catch some sleep. The screams of
babies in the front of the racing vehicle made this impossible. I was on
a luxury tourist bus, the only one that left that day for this kind of trip.
82 pages into the journey