Saturday, May 31, 2014

Time To Walk Away

Come and go as you please.
There is nothing keeping you
from your self except your self.
Time to walk away…I know…
I did. 

We spent enough time sitting
at bus  stations.

You are the only one that knows
what’s real in your experience.

That’s why the bats don’t bother
me anymore…

That’s why every direction anymore
is  straight ahead.


Hunter Thompson's Advice For Life

April 22, 1958
57 Perry Street
New York City
Dear Hume,
You ask advice: ah, what a very human and very dangerous thing to do! For to give advice to a man who asks what to do with his life implies something very close to egomania. To presume to point a man to the right and ultimate goal — to point with a trembling finger in the RIGHT direction is something only a fool would take upon himself.
I am not a fool, but I respect your sincerity in asking my advice. I ask you though, in listening to what I say, to remember that all advice can only be a product of the man who gives it. What is truth to one may be disaster to another. I do not see life through your eyes, nor you through mine. If I were to attempt to give you specific advice, it would be too much like the blind leading the blind.
"To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles … " (Shakespeare)
And indeed, that IS the question: whether to float with the tide, or to swim for a goal. It is a choice we must all make consciously or unconsciously at one time in our lives. So few people understand this! Think of any decision you've ever made which had a bearing on your future: I may be wrong, but I don't see how it could have been anything but a choice however indirect — between the two things I've mentioned: the floating or the swimming.
But why not float if you have no goal? That is another question. It is unquestionably better to enjoy the floating than to swim in uncertainty. So how does a man find a goal? Not a castle in the stars, but a real and tangible thing. How can a man be sure he's not after the "big rock candy mountain," the enticing sugar-candy goal that has little taste and no substance?
The answer — and, in a sense, the tragedy of life — is that we seek to understand the goal and not the man. We set up a goal which demands of us certain things: and we do these things. We adjust to the demands of a concept which CANNOT be valid. When you were young, let us say that you wanted to be a fireman. I feel reasonably safe in saying that you no longer want to be a fireman. Why? Because your perspective has changed. It's not the fireman who has changed, but you. Every man is the sum total of his reactions to experience. As your experiences differ and multiply, you become a different man, and hence your perspective changes. This goes on and on. Every reaction is a learning process; every significant experience alters your perspective.
So it would seem foolish, would it not, to adjust our lives to the demands of a goal we see from a different angle every day? How could we ever hope to accomplish anything other than galloping neurosis?
The answer, then, must not deal with goals at all, or not with tangible goals, anyway. It would take reams of paper to develop this subject to fulfillment. God only knows how many books have been written on "the meaning of man" and that sort of thing, and god only knows how many people have pondered the subject. (I use the term "god only knows" purely as an expression.) There's very little sense in my trying to give it up to you in the proverbial nutshell, because I'm the first to admit my absolute lack of qualifications for reducing the meaning of life to one or two paragraphs.
I'm going to steer clear of the word "existentialism," but you might keep it in mind as a key of sorts. You might also try something called "Being and Nothingness" by Jean-Paul Sartre, and another little thing called "Existentialism: From Dostoyevsky to Sartre." These are merely suggestions. If you're genuinely satisfied with what you are and what you're doing, then give those books a wide berth. (Let sleeping dogs lie.) But back to the answer. As I said, to put our faith in tangible goals would seem to be, at best, unwise. So we do not strive to be firemen, we do not strive to be bankers, nor policemen, nor doctors. WE STRIVE TO BE OURSELVES.
But don't misunderstand me. I don't mean that we can't BE firemen, bankers, or doctors — but that we must make the goal conform to the individual, rather than make the individual conform to the goal. In every man, heredity and environment have combined to produce a creature of certain abilities and desires — including a deeply ingrained need to function in such a way that his life will be MEANINGFUL. A man has to BE something; he has to matter.
As I see it then, the formula runs something like this: a man must choose a path which will let his ABILITIES function at maximum efficiency toward the gratification of his DESIRES. In doing this, he is fulfilling a need (giving himself identity by functioning in a set pattern toward a set goal), he avoids frustrating his potential (choosing a path which puts no limit on his self-development), and he avoids the terror of seeing his goal wilt or lose its charm as he draws closer to it (rather than bending himself to meet the demands of that which he seeks, he has bent his goal to conform to his own abilities and desires).
In short, he has not dedicated his life to reaching a pre-defined goal, but he has rather chosen a way of life he KNOWS he will enjoy. The goal is absolutely secondary: it is the functioning toward the goal which is important. And it seems almost ridiculous to say that a man MUST function in a pattern of his own choosing; for to let another man define your own goals is to give up one of the most meaningful aspects of life — the definitive act of will which makes a man an individual.
Let's assume that you think you have a choice of eight paths to follow (all pre-defined paths, of course). And let's assume that you can't see any real purpose in any of the eight. THEN — and here is the essence of all I've said— you MUST FIND A NINTH PATH.
Naturally, it isn't as easy as it sounds. You've lived a relatively narrow life, a vertical rather than a horizontal existence. So it isn't any too difficult to understand why you seem to feel the way you do. But a man who procrastinates in his CHOOSING will inevitably have his choice made for him by circumstance.
So if you now number yourself among the disenchanted, then you have no choice but to accept things as they are, or to seriously seek something else. But beware of looking for goals: look for a way of life. Decide how you want to live and then see what you can do to make a living WITHIN that way of life. But you say, "I don't know where to look; I don't know what to look for."
And there's the crux. Is it worth giving up what I have to look for something better? I don't know — is it? Who can make that decision but you? But even by DECIDING TO LOOK, you go a long way toward making the choice.
If I don't call this to a halt, I'm going to find myself writing a book. I hope it's not as confusing as it looks at first glance. Keep in mind, of course, that this is MY WAY of looking at things. I happen to think that it's pretty generally applicable, but you may not. Each of us has to create our own credo — this merely happens to be mine.
If any part of it doesn't seem to make sense, by all means call it to my attention. I'm not trying to send you out "on the road" in search of Valhalla, but merely pointing out that it is not necessary to accept the choices handed down to you by life as you know it. There is more to it than that — no one HAS to do something he doesn't want to do for the rest of his life. But then again, if that's what you wind up doing, by all means convince yourself that you HAD to do it. You'll have lots of company.
And that's it for now. Until I hear from you again, I remain,
your friend,
Hunter

(Hunter Thompson wrote this to a friend when he was 22
Reprinted from Business Insider)

Padmasambhava prediction

Over a thousand years ago, Padmasambhava, 
the great teacher who brought Buddhism from 
India to Tibet, predicted that this particular dark 
age would be distinguished by our increasing 
cleverness. We would create myriad ways to keep 
ourselves entertained, becoming experts in how
 to spend free time. We would use our intellect 
not for betterment but for hanging out in one 
form of distraction or another, constantly on 
holiday. Our discursive minds would run rampant. 
Padmasambhava predicted that as we became 
more shrewd and clever, compassion would seem 
increasingly futile, and we would forget how to 
bring meaning to our lives.

Source unknown

Friday, May 30, 2014

Odessa, Mon Amour

Your coffee houses
the music that constantly
is in the air in normal times
is hushed for now, while
civilizations come again
with their guns and bombs
to interrupt your millennial
poise. You will be one of those
last to go, a center of reality
not easily ignored, like Kyoto,
Berkely, Prague, Ann Arbor,
Ste. Petersburg, Tepoztlan,
Goa, Selida Colorado, 

We will lift whatever drink
is left to you.

Give Everyone A Medal For Everything

Give them a medal for standing still…
for eating the most hot dogs…
for living in the cold the longest.

Give them a medal for being there, or,
not being there…give them a medal
for whatever they want.

Ask soldiers if their medals really 
mean anything to them…ask for me,
I’m curious.

Give medals to the poets, the homeless,
the single mothers, the old men alone
in hotel rooms, the street children, the
lost dogs.

Why should the criminals that kill all
the rest of us have all the medals?

Thursday, May 29, 2014

Moment

Listening to me and my friends 
when we were still together on
my computer from a past time.

I recognize that I am not as smart
now as I was then. but I see I am 
still the same person, if ever there
was  one.

And, like all the other moments not
completely lost in time, like tears in
the rain, someone might listen to it,
recorded, and feel more alive.

And real reality is so seldom any more
recorded. It's no longer raw except in
wars....and, what is that? All part of the
distraction.

It's hard to capture anymore even a real
laugh....the minds are too much on the
take, waiting for the hidden camera....

That's why I don't live in Moloch 
anymore. 

I saw my world change 
before my eyes.











Saturday, May 24, 2014

Even Engraved In The Same Hesitancy

The rain came down unexpectantly…
fireworks went off regularly, and, the
church bells were on time.

The lights went  off, but I got a drink,
and the sun hasn’t gone down yet.

I wait, as I always did, naked, listening
to bells, patter of rain drops, barking of
dogs, the sky grey and indifferent.

I don’t know if this moment is the end
of my life, but, I wouldn’t be surprised
if it was…

…the birds sing now, after the rain…
the dogs still bark, not caring either way….
….what do I really care about, anymore,
after the rain, in the diminishing light?

Everything, as always, engraved in the
same hesitancy.




Wednesday, May 21, 2014

Do I Have A Message?

I’m sixty five, 
I’ve lived most of my life,
if I didn’t get it yet,
am I going to?

Well, the only possibility
is if you could cut into
my dance.

You can’t get there from
here, but, you can get me
from there.

I walk around, naked, in
my house at sixty five.
I used to do that in Winfield,
Illinois, when I was fourteen.

There must be some connection.

What we heard is what we know.
What we saw is what we are.

Oh, I so much want to talk to you…
particularly before I’m dead, but,
that won’t happen, so, I have to talk
now, and you will listen after I’m 
dead, which happens for all visionaries,
(not pretending to be one),
but, what I will say for myself to all of
you whom are not me:
If you can read this, you are
pretty damned close.













Sunday, May 18, 2014

Defenestrationism

This gives “throw
the Bums out” a new
power.

It could be as simple
as, if, once they get to
the hundredth floor,
you make them 
look down.

Auto-Da-Feral

I sacrifice myself
to the elements.
I’ve gone native
whomever they
may be. There is
no one other than
those that have
always been here
with their people
with their tribes
the few left are
those that I can 

only relate to.

Friday, May 16, 2014

Synthropy

I wake up…
that’s all I do anymore.
Life happens, but I try not
to get in the way.
I throw myself into 
the appropriate arenas
knowing that nothing
much will happen.
It’s as if I was alive,
but I don’t believe it
anymore. I feel the 
transcendence of human 
spirit, meaning not much
just relaxing to the point
where there is no separation.


Monday, May 12, 2014

No Time Left For History

If there’s no future
the past has no meaning…
humanity didn’t learn
from it’s mistakes.

What point writing
a book when no one's
left to read it?

The present is a different
future than anyone imagined.
The word “progress” is now an
anachronism.

If a tree falls in the woods
and there is no one there 
to hear it, it doesn’t make 
a sound.


Thursday, May 8, 2014

Over Developed World

isn’t it about time we dropped
the concept of the developed world
have you looked around lately
well sure it’s pretty well developed
lot’s of cities nice and sparkly but
then we’re running out of places to
put the garbage and the CO2 let
alone  the nuclear holocaust and
we have to move so fast just to keep
up with keeping going like we’re on
speed which we are and all the other
drugs let alone the mobile apps so
sophisticated that they take over
the mind yes I’d say it’s an

overdeveloped world.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

LSD 45 Years Later

I remember the moment I decided what I would 
do with my life. It was in 1968, summer, I was 19.
I was riding with my father to town. We had just 
left the driveway, heading down the hill towards 
Winfield. I knew what was happening in
California…I’d read “Be Here Now”…there was
an awaking taking place and I wanted to find out
about it. I  decided at that moment that what I
wanted to do was find out what was going on…
not with  something specific, like politics, or
society, but,rather, what was going on…at all.

I went back to college that fall. During the
process of getting settled in, I wound up in the
dorm, Musser, on the fourth, top floor.  For some
reason unknown to me, that’s where all the “heads”
were. My first LSD trip happened shortly after the
term started. It was the first time I heard The
Grateful Dead, which was a delicious coincidence.
I met two people that night who became best
friends for life.That first one was a good trip. I
lost all self consciousness, which I had never
experienced before. It felt like I was  free. After
that night, our dorm scene was known as
“fifth Musser”.

I took LSD maybe 30 times that year. I had
some bad trips, which happened because I had
expectations that I could re-experience the freedom
of the first trip. I so wanted to experience that
freedom again, but one never knew what  would
come up when you were tripping. After that
period, I realized  I had seen the promised land,
the garden of Eden,but I had no idea how to get
there from  here. I knew that LSD had opened a
door, but, after the trip, the door was closed again.
I had to find a way to that freedom.

To make a long life short, I met a Buddhist. He
seemed so  calm, the opposite of how I felt. I asked
him about it, how to be more like him and he said
“Meditate”. That became my touchstone, both in
word and deed. I met my Buddhist teacher about a
year later…Chogyam Trungpa. When I first laid
eyes on him, I instantly knew I was looking at my
goal. I also felt, at the time, infinitely distant from
it. I ask him: “Isn’t there an easier way?” He just
chucked and shook his head no. He knew about
us hippies and LSD. 

After forty years of meditation and a complicated
life, I’m where I was that first trip… in that freedom
all the time. I never thought I would experience
that feeling again. I meditated for years and
nothing seemed to be happening, but, I felt I had
no other choice. Change happened suddenly at
moments. It was as if meditation had put me in a
place where the change could occur, where the
point of view  could shift…but any of the changes
didn’t occur because of any volition on my part…
they just happened because I meditated.

So, thank goodness for LSD. It broke my eggs
so I had to scramble to make an omelet.

















Friday, May 2, 2014

Sitting

Sitting in meditation
is like falling into
the present moment.

Burma Shave Poem #32Z

Don't trust the little voices in your head

That tell you when to brake...

Trust that you can see the semi

Jackknifing out of control in front of you.

Burma Shave