What Of Yours Can You Not Give Away, letter response to a friend...

Hopefully the Buddhism will help you not need your handful of meds... One problem I found with cooking Asian cuisine was that I always had to visit different stores for different ingredients, even in New York City.  Sometimes I devoted half a day just for the damn shopping.  WOW! Mentioning this I just remembered how I bumped into that friend/neighbor who gave me her oil pastels and set the ball rolling for my belief in spiritual reciprocity (is that the word?)  What was her name? In any case, I made it onto the subway in East Chinatown with at least 4 big grocery bags nearing the breaking point (always did that).  But, leaving the subway station in Brooklyn, this young blonde woman offered me a hand with the bags.  It was raining and she carried half of them down the hill to my apartment building.  She lived a block up from me.  We bumped into each other randomly. She was a fashion design student at the Parsons School of Design.  I remember her inviting me to her apartment once.  She had some modelling photos of herself naked in her bedroom.  There was absolutely NO sexual energy between us.  She was purely a decent person with me.  Why she felt connected with me...  Who knows?  Everyday angels I guess.  The day she invited me up to her apartment she told me that she had some art supplies for me.  And she gave me a big bag of oil pastels...  That's when I began giving things to people too...  But I only gave if I felt driven internally.  Vicki once asked me sarcastically, "Ross, is there anything of yours you can't give away?"  It was a stupid question, because there truly isn't a thing I truly can't give away.  But, to satisfy her I responded, "My full-length green coat..."  Somewhere between New York City and Mexico I gave away my leather jacket.  Another suddenly appeared memory...  To whom?


In any case, I'm glad you're having this Tibetan Buddhist experience and I hope that it's true that there is something that being connected with me shifts in you...  I always write about how meeting so and so sent me spinning and that "I hope there was something I did for them...  But I will never know.."  Before leaving for Mexico I met the mother of an acquaintance who always was playing chess in the Tea Lounge in Park Slope, Brooklyn.  She supposedly is an expert in Numerology.  That evening she did my basic numerology and explained to me that I am a teacher.  But not in the traditional sense of the word.  I'm a life teacher.  However, something within my numerology causes people to negate what I tell them.  She said, "most of the people don't realize what they had in you until after you are gone.  The problem is that you get tired of waiting for them to awaken and you continue on your journey.  It's a reality you must accept..."  I have so many little street and cafe stories (If I can retrieve them from my memory).  But I don't know how to tie them together...  I'm going to post this little blurb to you, as a reminder and because I think it's something interesting for people to think about...  I'm also attaching the Mussaman Curry Recipe.