Friday, September 7, 2018

Day Off

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. 

























  










                                   






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