MDMA while drugs are still not yet palliative,
not that I don’t feel a little terminal. “I drink to
experience ecstasy of mind.” said Kerouac.
Yes. I did too, and it worked for about fifty
years, then,I quit….not the ecstasy part,
obviously.
Day off? There was a billboard with the Dalai
Lama on it in India showing a photo of him
drinking a Coke@. The caption read: “The
Dalai Lama takes a break.” Chogyam Trungpa
saw the billboard, and his response was:
“From what?”
Day Off. I retired when I was fifty three. Not so
much retired as stopped working…..plumbing…
my livelihood. It served me well for thirty years.
The minute I thought I could survive without it,
I quit.
I had a privileged upbringing, but I didn’t chose
a privileged profession. They all seemed to be
traps; entertainment, law, writing all required a
certain amount of capitulation in order to attain
success. No one wanted to be a plumber…one
of the few remaining professions for outlaws. It
was perfect for me. Lazy? That’s why I moved
to Mexico. Also, because the pressure from the
process of America waking up from it’s
misplaced dream was becoming too intense…
the way it is now.
……………………………………………………
Goodbye yellow brick road…you just numbly
don’t get there…there’s always a man behind
the curtain…the farther we get from the earth,
the further we get from ourselves…ashes to
ashes, after all is said and done.
When young, one thinks one is immortal…and
now, chronic ironic little reminders that life is
just a process, an ephemeral event. Just
because you have a name doesn’t mean it’s
not an illusion.
First “servietta”, white butterfly looks like a
floating napkin. They appear at the beginning
and end of the rainy season here. It’s too early
for them. They’re probably confused along with
the rest of us. Progress was such a hopeful
concept…gave a sense of stability and purpose.
Now we’re thrown back to survival.
That’s why I’m ready to die…a little early,
maybe, but you never know. When young, I just
wanted to know what was going on…what was
life? No one even seemed interested. That’s why,
when I stumbled upon Buddhism, I realized that
someone had figured it out. When I met my
teacher and realized here was someone that
knew and had worked it out, that’s all I needed.
After decades of work, what I know and my
life are the same. No more struggle on the path.
So, unless I can help someone, be of some
assistance, I’m ready to move on.
It’s hard to meet the Buddhist teachings. When
you do, there’s no guarantee that one will connect
with them. Most people will agree that there’s
a subtle, or, maybe not so subtle, nagging feeling
that something’s missing…otherwise, there’d be
no religion.
I like Robert Anton Wilson’s religion….where
everybody gets to be Pope, infallible unto
themselves, which, if you think about it, is the
way it should be. As the teachings say: “Even
if the Buddhas of the Three Times rise against
you, you will remain in the Indestructible vajra
nature.” I’ll buy that for a dollar.
I had a course in college that was Zen meditation.
The instructor was a sensei form Kyoto University.
We would meditate for an hour, and then sensei
would tell a funny Zen story. A party was given in
his honor at the end of the trimester. Sensei got
quite drunk, and gave a teary monologue about
how he hoped he had done well, and that he
wanted to help everyone. It was embarrassing
for his mainly white, Protestant audience. What
we didn’t realize was that sense was being
authentically Japanese in his drunken ramble,
that Japanese are allowed to be truthful when
they are drunk, which is why it’s a nation of
alcoholic businessmen. When I was in Kyoto,
I saw a vending machine that had bottles of
Johnny Walker Red for sale. I didn’t appreciate
sensei Nishimura ’til years later.
Sheeple….and the bleat goes on…don’t say
we didn’t warn you….this is what “2012”
was all about, the battle of good against
evil, “great awakening”, “cosmic attractor”,
“singularity”, “armageddon” even. So, it’s a
few years later. As Jack Kerouac said: “Walking
on water wasn’t built in a day.” (Died on his
toilet like Presley).
I write. Some people knit, ride horses…all
kinds of things. Some people like trains, I
like words. That’s all It is. On the other hand,
art, communication, appreciation, transmission, evolution. I like reading what I wrote, which
doesn’t mean I think I’m any good at it. Practice
for next lifetime. One person in the world
thought I was good enough and published
me…that’s good enough for me.
The end of my life is an attractor for me, not
in the sense that I want it to happen, though,
to be honest, sometimes I do…not out of
depression, more out of a sense of “let’s get
on with it” or something. No, it attracts
because I feel it heading in that direction, and
I want to know the experience.
