The Mad Monk is the story of a monk who knows The Way but few can understand him as he has deliberately camouflaged his wisdom and experience under the veil of madness. He looks for people who are true seekers…

Excerpts:

Sweet nectar had I sucked from many a flower, numerous monks had I met and discovered their innermost power. It had brought me pleasure; it had got me good luck. Sweetness I had tasted but my own honey did me elude. Then, one day when on a Canadian holiday, I spied a monk who at me did stare. He was the one who they called the monk mad. 

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The following night, I dreamt of him. We danced together, a mad dance. Was it love? Was it lust? I did not know; I could not tell. The dance stopped. Time stopped. His lips I yearned and, on my forehead, he did kiss. Tears rolled down my cheeks, tears of joy were they for I found myself on a mountain tall, the tallest peak. I was surprised, how could the monk mad be so profound? Surprise matured into feelings deep. With him was I, and he with me in meditation unique. Fully conscious, fully aware, we stood in meditation deep. I had a million questions and I knew he had the answers. I did not ask; he did not speak. The questions silently conveyed; answers were revealed.

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Religion the theologian, sex the doctor dissects and the feelings they do kill, removing the fragrance with their skill. Be with the flower, feel its beauty and the fragrance it does spill. Be with the scriptures, breathe them in; enjoy their company and let the Holy Spirit your temple fill. ‘Your body is the Temple of the Living God,’ you must remember, to fill it requires faith and no theological skill. Faith comes with experience…