Dear brothers and sisters,
The Golden Age is now becoming more premie orientated. It is clear from the approach of the American Divine Times' new format, that first we must put our own house in order with strong lines of communication before we try to get our message across to the public. In this issue, as part of developing our own internal relationship of understanding, we have given a brief rundown on the people and services of DUO National in Australia, as well as an outline on how this newspaper is put together. It is mysteries that have caused confusion in our lives, and when everything is explained clearly and simply, our lives and DUO will develop in an atmosphere of co-operation and trust.
We expect a readership mainly of premies, parents and friends. The Golden Age will not be produced at regular fortnightly intervals, but only when there is sufficient quantity and quality in material, which will probably make the publication dates about three weeks apart. Also, the 25¢ charge is no longer compulsory but becomes a donation instead. (We would appreciate whatever you can afford, as The Golden Age does run at a loss.)
To cater to the premie community, the contents of The Golden Age will fit loosely into the new format set out below:
- Guru Maharaj Ji's movements
- news from other countries
- International DUO events
- Mahatma programs
- What's happening in national DUO sectors
- DUO events in each state
- Sort of a mutual information society. An exchange of ideas about health, yoga, theatre etc. For example, this issue's article on alternative technology in England.
- How to build a dome, make yoghurt, run a newspaper and so on.
- A hangover from the old worldy format. An optimistic informative article such as Teach Your Children Well in issue 13. Contributions needed for this section.
- A book or film review, your theatre group's description of their night out at a Shakespeare play, etc.
- Letters to the editor and in answer to other premies on debatable points of propagation, etc.
- Advertisements and events
PEACEMEAL, FOLLOW THE MASTER
- All contributions of recipes and scriptural quotations are gratefully received
STORIES AND POEMS
- A section of literary efforts by premies and other inspired authors
For this new format to work, we need your continuaL support. So please supply me with a mass of suggestions, criticisms and feedback, but most of all, contributions. The Golden Age wants to be a true servant and information centre for the premie community, and can only do that if communication is a mutual exchange of love and ideas among reader: and editor.
Your brother in blissful service,
Golden Age Publications
"Love is not a story. Love is such a thing it can enable you to communicate with anything in the world. It is the most perfect communication."
- Guru Maharaj Ji
A brief report from Malcolm Davey, en route to Europe …
At dusk the sea bats swoop like arctic terns: The Gulf of Siam. In the fading light, lightning strikes rain sweeps the temples in the hills.
The serenity of Thailand is reflected in the humble peasant's face. As Buddhists, they possess an air of gentleness and a hint of inner peace. Young men from all walks of life are expected to become Buddhist monks for at least three months. My young guide had shaved his head and worn the saffron robe for over year.
Amongst flying fish we sailed to an off-shore island, he pointed to the brightly-coloured temple, high on the Island's mountain. Here he had practised chanting and meditation for two hours a day, learning a life of humility and compassion in the way of the Enlightened One.
Twenty three thousand temples dominate Thailand. Wherever you go, Buddha's image is before you. He is a spiritual and business source alike. Thousands of varying figurines, from fat to thin, laughing to reclining, sit in meditation in tourist shops. Tourists flock to point their cameras at the 5 ½ ton solid gold Buddha and hundreds more in other famous temples.
It has been said that a Perfect Master can be likened to a comet, streaking across the heavens. The head of the comet itself is often missed, yet in its wake all come to gaze at its shimmering tail.
Guru Maharaj Ji beamed out of my badge as I sauntered through paddy fields from primitive village to distant grass hut. The peasants gazed on me as I had come from the moon. All were amazed at my badge, checking to see if it was my face. "Like Buddha" I satsanged, following up with a leaflet. "Buddha, Buddha" they repeated, in wide-eyed astonishment.