Rose Zombies!

Tsongkhapas six yogas of Naropa - been looking at the Mullin translation. Great book - included instructions about how to transfer your consciousness into that of a dead body. This is all very well, but the trouble with dead bodies is that they're not usually too healthy. That's why they're dead. Say you were feeling a bit crook and came across a nice looking dead body. Once you'd transfered your consciousness, it would be a bit late to find out that the body had died of something horrible. Maybe you could ask first. Like, find someone you fancied transfering you consciousness into and .... you'd probably waste years following them around.


You could maybe strangle someone or suffocate them. Then you'd know the body was alright. Brian Wilson is threatening to come and see me this weekend. The last time I saw him I ended up with a disease that lasted two weeks. I've just got over it. If I strangled him, I'd have a body that might be a bit old and toothless and baldy, but at least not suffering for something imminently terminal. But who's to say that two weeks after transfering into this new residence you wouldn't be standing there chewing on the dead pig's face, smoking a fag and quaffing some pink sticky stuff at 40%. Once that flatulence kicked in ... it doesn't bear thinking about.


The best person to get you a dead body is bound to be the sensei and reverend in Tennessee. Someone says the last link didn't work, so here's another peek at him. Get the hat off, grow the ears and teeth and I don't want to be walking about in that part of the woods. He's surrounded by animals. Tsongkhapa says you can practise on dead animals. Have a bunch of dead animals walking about!


It's Thursday. I'm off work till Tuesday. I could go back to the Samye Ling
for a couple of nights. Except I'm skint. And I wouldn't want people thinking this wee hobby I have is taking me over!


I had a fabulous meditation on Monday morning. Really special. Got through a whole sequence of busy mind things ... like trying to imagine a deity on top of your head ... and managed to get to the bit where you've just disappeared everything. The lineage prayer they use at the Samye has a wish to be able to meditate without using anything. Sitting in a white cloud of bliss with nothing much happening; nothing much having penetrating power. A couple of times recently this has felt quite wonderful.


If this a mahamudra meditation, I think that's what I'm supposed to do.


The king asks the yogi joe for the juju to avoid death and the joe gets as vase, puts his hand inside it and takes it out again. He says, it's empty. Is that the juju that avoids death? says the king. Sure is, says the joe. The king threw the joe in jail. You can see his point of view. The yogi joe might have been saying something about appearance and reality, but I still can't work it out.


I went to see my maw on Wednesday. She stays with her sister in Bellshill, which is another idyllic little village near Glasgow. She was 86 years old on Wednesday. Though I rave continually at her about ra bliss, she has never experienced ra bliss. I don't know anyone who has any idea about what I'm talking about when I talk about ra bliss. I think I'll start blogging about ra bliss, what it is, etc.


Surf's up! The visit to the Samye lifted the plateau once more. Everything is working better than before I went. What more can a body ask for? If I live till I'm 86, I'll have had more than forty years of ra bliss. Probably dissolved in a puddle of ra bliss well before then.


I got quite hot today. I've forgotten to be worried about it. Hotboy.