Thursday 11:51 p.m.
A friend and contemporary of the other person who lives here was given the black spot a month ago. Buried today. Perfect!

You should look forward to dying. There should be a joy in it. When I was younger than twelve, I remember lying in bed and thinking I will have had a successful life if I feel at the death that here comes another exciting adventure. The fear of death underlies everything. It's so there that you don't notice it. It's the cause of almost everything you do. .. all the people who jumped out the road and stayed alive bred other people who jumped out the road and ...

So the khenpo on the tape of the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying is getting taken down from his cave by the Chinese flatheids to be tortured and killed. They have to get a horse because the old boy can't walk. He sings songs of realisation. Near the spot where they want him to go to be tortured and killed, at the very gate, he goes.

Everyone should be able to do that. If that human being can do that, so can we all. It's a matter of education. And application.

My mother can't do that and neither can I. My mother is 87. She said once about staying alive to help people. She handed me £10 today for my train fare. My maw is worth £10 a month to me because the train fare is only £7:50.

I have a great relationship with my mother. She had a haemorraghe (sic) in her lung about five years ago. She stopped smoking when she was seventy. Got her anyway. Then they gave her lots of painkillers, etc. She was submerged. I said: Maw, I've taken all the drugs that God sent down to earth. Give me two of those and I'll see what they're like. A hour after dropping these painkillers I'm crashed out on the train back to Edinburgh.

So I phoned her up and told her to stop taking them. Then she can't get to sleep. I say: Why can't you get to sleep? .... We are closely related. This is why everyone should have millions of relatives. I couldn't get to sleep once. She's my mother. Half of me at least. So I get her to listen to the Yoga Nidra tape. You fix your mind so that the interior monologue is controlled ... it's the interior monologue, the voice, which keeps you awake. Then I got her the tapes .... the buddhist tapes. The Dalai Lama tapes, the Tibetan Book of the Dead tapes, etc.

My mother put in some time with me, so solid, stoical time. So today she asks me if I want to listen to a tape upstairs in her room. She puts on the Tai Sa ... a Samye Ling Tape... and it's not the boy's best, but it is a dharma talk about ...well, dharma. I sit with my back against the wardrobe and my face is straight on to ma maw's feet, which are curled as she lies on her side listening to this dharma tape.

Last week, she said it was great to just feel the old age pain after getting over the shingles. Today she said that she felt no pain at all as she lay on her side listening to the tapes. Like, pain relief tapes. I said, why's that. She said, it's the tapes.

The juju tapes. The tapes removing pain.

If in the vast eons of time, I had to be reborn, etc., etc., blah blah ... I want the same mother.

It's compassion. It's got to be compassion. From her side. This isn't about saying I love you to puppy dogs. It's hard wire cleaning up crap and helping. It's about doing stuff, some of which may not be appealing.

They fung you up when you are young. They don't mean to, but they do.... not around here. I'm sure when I'm dying the next time, she'll be there. You can get over it if they're not nice, but it's easier if they're nice.

It's so much easier if they're nice.

I had a week on my own and it went very well. What do you want, Hotboy? Primordial awareness. Non-conceptual ... non-dichotomous ... I'm sure it will be very, very nice. The other person who lives here is away again tomorrow. These are great days for me. These are the very best of times. Culminating, wonderful times. Ris is RaBlissBlog! Can you be happy when you're dying?