It’s no accident I’m writing today from the samadhi mandir at Parmarth.
In fact, I gulped when I realized where they were suggesting I go to write quietly because I’m low-energy and have some injuries so full on yoga classes are not so desirable.
I also find myself hugely overwhelmed by the masses of people, lights, and sound and I think this must be post-trauma effects and possibly effects of brain-damaging too.
I wanted to just sit quietly somewhere and write, so I asked the help desk at the International Yoga Festival if they could suggest somewhere and they told me to come here.
It was only when I looked on the map I realized this is where they had sung the Ramayana all those years ago, my bedroom just overlooking, and how the experience had changed my life for the better.
And, like Angalimala Baba, how I had mentioned it regularly during those intense battles with online-stalkers where my approach tended to be to bombard them with God as much as possible.
I stay a few days at the Thalazur Bandol before driving to Lourdes.
I’d happily live here for a while I reckon, it’s gorgeous.
Can we stay a month or two here please?
I know squirrel will love it.
However, on this visit, there seemed to be some already alerted porn-addicts there.
The technician enters my room repeatedly without knocking, knowing I am inside.
He makes a silly excuse and snickers when I’m upset about it, then does it again.
I tell reception about this and ask the receptionist, who has his name printed on a card at the desk as Mr Banga, to tell the management about how I found the technician’s behavior threatening.
I wonder if he did.
The concierge pack my bags into my car as if they’re taking the piss, and after I asked them not to.
It’s not clear why this is still happening.
I don’t think they recognize me as such; I think they’ve been told about me, maybe via their porn subscriptions like the medics at Moorfields Brent Cross.
What could be the reason?
Father. Are You having me collect the horrific scale of what’s happened to men as a preliminary step for the tidal wave of healing to come?
Do you think men are just like… yeh, this is great, come on everyone, let’s rape our mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, mate’s girlfriends, children, babies etc… oh yeah, let’s use the pets too… hehe… and we’ll get the local postman to deliver them drugs so they’ll never bother questioning us they’ll be so high… and these men fail to notice how the world is literally about to end because of their pathetic actions.
I’m just wondering about the Thalazur because I used to visit their hotel in Saint Jean de Luz regularly and I wonder if there had been any “date nights” on those visits.
This was when I was very depressed and using valium that I bought online and was delivered by mail to N2; the same ridiculously addictive pills that my mother uses even today.
I’m not kidding now but in March 2026, on the first afternoon (23rd March I think) I volunteer for the winter service at the baths at Lourdes (I had given the water gesture to a couple of pilgrims already with a lovely man called Marc to get me feeling confident again and then he left me alone), the first woman who comes into the baths also has the tattoo on her arm.
That’s four times I’ve seen it now: twice on stomachs, twice on arms, always on women.
