Ra Thursday!
11:15a.m.
Very exceptional meditations today so far. Very accessible bliss and heat. The only problem is that I can't concentrate well enough. You just want to be fixed somehow to ra bliss, but my mind wanders as much as anybody's. The three beers last night didn't make too much difference ( but we're into subtlety here and they do make a difference!), but that's all the beer I can really afford in July, so I hope not to do that again. I did enjoy drinking those beers though. Yummy. This is a bad sign!
The sensei advised me to try Ancient Futures out on Tor, who seem to be a big American scifi/fantasy outfit. I sent an email asking if they looked at foreigners and haven't had anything back yet. They won't reply. But I'll think of something else. Probably, I'll eventually just post them a copy and tell them to bin it if they don't want it. It's the return postage from the states, etc., that they ask for.
I thought I might hear from Anjali Pratrap this week. She's from AP Watt and has been having a look at Bugtown. You have to brace yourself. This of course is a stupid reaction. Once I was learning how to play goolf with Brian Wilson. Sometimes you swing and miss, and a very bad mental state immediately occurs. This might be accompanied by irritation and some cursing in bad cases. This is, of course, a stupid reaction to hitting or not hitting a stupid ball. So I started working out how not to have this feeling, so that it didn't really matter how I struck the ball or not. Then I wasn't bothered about not hitting the ball properly. Then I hit a great shot. And that didn't bother me either. Hardly any reaction. No point in hitting the ball at all really after that. Is it possible not to give a toss about rejections and rejoice in acceptances?
Dull and overcast and drizzly. I'll do another hour before lunch!
8:30p.m.
Had a lovely time in the allotment from three till about six. I was in the hut. It rained incessantly and it sounded nice on the wooden roof. Honeysuckle tendrils have invaded the space. Looked up at the sound of a songbird by the chickenwire. It was a wren. Lot of song. Earlier in the year, well, May, it didn't sound like that. Today it sounded far more complex. Gotten interested in birdsong since last March when I spent ten weeks in the hut, more or less. Blackbirds are great, of course. Why do they need such wonderful songs? I am self taught. The Gods have implanted in my heart songs of all kinds. You have to have stopped a bit to get interested in bird song.
Time passed very quickly then. I had my eyes closed for most of the three hours and interspersed that with reading Reading on the Six Yogas of Naropa by Glenn Mullin. This boy's books have been a big, big help. The Readings one supplements Tsongkhapas Six Yogas of Naropa. Actually, these two books and the Bliss Of Inner Fire are all you need if you want to go mad, go on fire, or have a really, really nice life.
You're wired when you're always wondering what time it is. When you sit down in the hut like today, it doesn't matter. You get kind of washed away. I wasn't expecting any heat. The lama in his book said afternoons weren't so good for the heat element. Mornings are better, it seems.This isn't what I needed since I want to meditate throughout sometimes. But sit in the bliss, breathe, whoosh, different space, but you cannot really get it together to do a succession of breaths (and that's how it worked before) since the breath you've just let go has sort of wallied you so much.
Anyway, in the Readings book there's a boy called Gyalwa Wensapa. He's the biz. Everyone in Tibetan buddhism is going on about enlightenment and nobody will talk about being enlightened. If I was Tsongkhapa, these boys would all be wearing badges. Grade I, etc. My lama says he's not enlightened. I heard him saying that. Not enlightened. Twelve years of retreats and not enlightened. The boy in the book is described as arrogant and wild. I am the man! If you can float, let's see it. Make a video. We need role models.
I've had two dreams with the Dalai Lama in them. Millions of people have had dreams with the Dalai Lama in them and I can see why dreams are not very reliable. Last year, I went to see the Dalai Lama and the boy who set up the gig, when asked on the telly, said he started doing in because the DL told him in a dream. If the DL is asked on the telly if he is enlightened, he will probably say no. Maybe he can't fly. Maybe he's not quite Siddharta, but I find this denial of any achievement irritating. I want someone to levitate on the telly and say, stop being a stupid flatheid. I don't want someone to say, I'm just a flatheid like you.
The samsaramom got a sore back while meditating and is getting emotionally charged meditations maybe. It is not easy to go away without any sweeties and do this juju. I haven't had the time to check the rest of her blog to see what tradition she's doing this in, but they seem to have a very weird eating ritual. Must be Japanese. Thought about well before anyone knew about germs! Woman's got three kids. All the women I know have kids and sore backs. Burn your seats. But you've got to take your hat off to people who are trying. Somethings you do are dead hard. Why do you do them? Something inside maybe knows about ra bliss. Maybe.
She says in her daily reads that she looks at this and Adolf's . I mention this because I do not know how to list them and also because Adolf will not have noticed. Adolf, the nazi photographer, is one of the dead smart people. The samsaramom is probably dead smart as well. Due to the severe toilet training and the Third Reich, of course, Adolf has a few problems which the samsaramom will not have. She's Canadian and they're all nice. I can see her now in a brownshirt being photographed by Adolf down on the beach below the volcano in the Unheard of Island.
Things here are fantastic by the way. I will drink more Black Bavarian Lager and I will get blissed and pissed at the same time. One of the other people who live here is out at a school prom. It's an american thing. The other one is out entertaining people. This is a wonderful life. You need ra bliss and the smiley face, and the guru who smiles at you when you sometimes close your eyes. Also, not doing anything happily. Non action. Listen to tweety birds. I'm sure it's all method. Well, tonight maybe method and beer. Allah Akbar!
Very exceptional meditations today so far. Very accessible bliss and heat. The only problem is that I can't concentrate well enough. You just want to be fixed somehow to ra bliss, but my mind wanders as much as anybody's. The three beers last night didn't make too much difference ( but we're into subtlety here and they do make a difference!), but that's all the beer I can really afford in July, so I hope not to do that again. I did enjoy drinking those beers though. Yummy. This is a bad sign!
The sensei advised me to try Ancient Futures out on Tor, who seem to be a big American scifi/fantasy outfit. I sent an email asking if they looked at foreigners and haven't had anything back yet. They won't reply. But I'll think of something else. Probably, I'll eventually just post them a copy and tell them to bin it if they don't want it. It's the return postage from the states, etc., that they ask for.
I thought I might hear from Anjali Pratrap this week. She's from AP Watt and has been having a look at Bugtown. You have to brace yourself. This of course is a stupid reaction. Once I was learning how to play goolf with Brian Wilson. Sometimes you swing and miss, and a very bad mental state immediately occurs. This might be accompanied by irritation and some cursing in bad cases. This is, of course, a stupid reaction to hitting or not hitting a stupid ball. So I started working out how not to have this feeling, so that it didn't really matter how I struck the ball or not. Then I wasn't bothered about not hitting the ball properly. Then I hit a great shot. And that didn't bother me either. Hardly any reaction. No point in hitting the ball at all really after that. Is it possible not to give a toss about rejections and rejoice in acceptances?
Dull and overcast and drizzly. I'll do another hour before lunch!
8:30p.m.
Had a lovely time in the allotment from three till about six. I was in the hut. It rained incessantly and it sounded nice on the wooden roof. Honeysuckle tendrils have invaded the space. Looked up at the sound of a songbird by the chickenwire. It was a wren. Lot of song. Earlier in the year, well, May, it didn't sound like that. Today it sounded far more complex. Gotten interested in birdsong since last March when I spent ten weeks in the hut, more or less. Blackbirds are great, of course. Why do they need such wonderful songs? I am self taught. The Gods have implanted in my heart songs of all kinds. You have to have stopped a bit to get interested in bird song.
Time passed very quickly then. I had my eyes closed for most of the three hours and interspersed that with reading Reading on the Six Yogas of Naropa by Glenn Mullin. This boy's books have been a big, big help. The Readings one supplements Tsongkhapas Six Yogas of Naropa. Actually, these two books and the Bliss Of Inner Fire are all you need if you want to go mad, go on fire, or have a really, really nice life.
You're wired when you're always wondering what time it is. When you sit down in the hut like today, it doesn't matter. You get kind of washed away. I wasn't expecting any heat. The lama in his book said afternoons weren't so good for the heat element. Mornings are better, it seems.This isn't what I needed since I want to meditate throughout sometimes. But sit in the bliss, breathe, whoosh, different space, but you cannot really get it together to do a succession of breaths (and that's how it worked before) since the breath you've just let go has sort of wallied you so much.
Anyway, in the Readings book there's a boy called Gyalwa Wensapa. He's the biz. Everyone in Tibetan buddhism is going on about enlightenment and nobody will talk about being enlightened. If I was Tsongkhapa, these boys would all be wearing badges. Grade I, etc. My lama says he's not enlightened. I heard him saying that. Not enlightened. Twelve years of retreats and not enlightened. The boy in the book is described as arrogant and wild. I am the man! If you can float, let's see it. Make a video. We need role models.
I've had two dreams with the Dalai Lama in them. Millions of people have had dreams with the Dalai Lama in them and I can see why dreams are not very reliable. Last year, I went to see the Dalai Lama and the boy who set up the gig, when asked on the telly, said he started doing in because the DL told him in a dream. If the DL is asked on the telly if he is enlightened, he will probably say no. Maybe he can't fly. Maybe he's not quite Siddharta, but I find this denial of any achievement irritating. I want someone to levitate on the telly and say, stop being a stupid flatheid. I don't want someone to say, I'm just a flatheid like you.
The samsaramom got a sore back while meditating and is getting emotionally charged meditations maybe. It is not easy to go away without any sweeties and do this juju. I haven't had the time to check the rest of her blog to see what tradition she's doing this in, but they seem to have a very weird eating ritual. Must be Japanese. Thought about well before anyone knew about germs! Woman's got three kids. All the women I know have kids and sore backs. Burn your seats. But you've got to take your hat off to people who are trying. Somethings you do are dead hard. Why do you do them? Something inside maybe knows about ra bliss. Maybe.
She says in her daily reads that she looks at this and Adolf's . I mention this because I do not know how to list them and also because Adolf will not have noticed. Adolf, the nazi photographer, is one of the dead smart people. The samsaramom is probably dead smart as well. Due to the severe toilet training and the Third Reich, of course, Adolf has a few problems which the samsaramom will not have. She's Canadian and they're all nice. I can see her now in a brownshirt being photographed by Adolf down on the beach below the volcano in the Unheard of Island.
Things here are fantastic by the way. I will drink more Black Bavarian Lager and I will get blissed and pissed at the same time. One of the other people who live here is out at a school prom. It's an american thing. The other one is out entertaining people. This is a wonderful life. You need ra bliss and the smiley face, and the guru who smiles at you when you sometimes close your eyes. Also, not doing anything happily. Non action. Listen to tweety birds. I'm sure it's all method. Well, tonight maybe method and beer. Allah Akbar!
posted by Hotboy at 11:13 AM
2 Comments:
hotboy. On the contrary, I have no problems. I work 2 days a week, but never 2 consecutive days so as not to risk stress or burnout.
My only problem is an allergy to golf. I played a lot as a kid, well I was forced to. On Sunday, if my brother and I were getting on my father's nerves, he would send us to the golf course so he could get some peace. "And don't come home till you've played at least 9 holes."
Sport as punishment. I have grown up to hate golf, though technically I still have a reasonable swing, it came in handy the other week at the park when the dog and I took on two alsatians.
You too could have had a decent swing if you'd been punished properly as a kid.
I hope this helps. robmcj
message to the samsaramom - my commiserations, did you read the back care comment in Rat New Feeling!? robmcj
Adolf! So pleased to hear that you don't have any problems and only work by accident. I was not allowed to develop my goolf swing as a child since we got chased off the goolf course. We only played footie. Hardly any punishments since we could run. Don't play goolf much since it's too dangerous with Brian Wilson. Also, you can catch things like the yips! Hotboy
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