Saturday, March 31, 2007

Rem Flatheids Again!

Saturday 12:30 p.m.
Hello, you Masai Warriors, spam robots, alien creatures from Outer Space, and those sad Eastern gentlemen seeking hotboys! This is RaBlissBlog! Here to detail developments in ra bliss!

Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! Everything was working so well this morning! You take a breath, squeeze, let go and you're in the zone, Jack! You're in the zone!

No, you're not. Mostly morons and other flatheids come to this bloggy and you aren't getting ra bliss, are you?? Why is this? This is because you are a stupid basturn and too dumb to meditate.

Thank God, it's not my fault, Jack. That's all I can say. So do you think the flatheids should meditate, Hotboy? No, Jack! I think the flatheids should blow their brains out. They're not using them anyway. Especially, the old ones about my age. What is the point of being over fifty and not being able to access ra bliss? What is that about? What a waste of human beingness! You evil bourgeois, planet guzzling, complete waste of space! Just blow your brains out and do the planet a favour!

So you're not meeting up with any of your deep, dear friends this weekend, Hotboy? They're all past it, Jack. Baldy, no teeth, heading ... indeed, plummeting towards the grief, sorrow, lamentations ... suffering in this life. It might be hard work sometimes investigating ra bliss, but the alternative is so appalling!

Yarooo!!! Yaroooo!! I can hear the long horns on the viking warships in the Firth Of Forth calling to me. You've just been paid. Don the viking helmet, and sally forward and onwards. But, yea, though the flesh is weak, the bank balance is even weaker and I shall proceed to the diggings, then ra blissings, digging and blissing all afternoon. What a fortunate, fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!!

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Rat Vase Breathing Again!

Thursday 1:40 p.m.
It was about this time of year in 2004 that I discovered some kind of connection between breath and bliss. So you squeeze a breath round a symbol below your navel and let go. Maybe you should try it and see if you get something!

I was spending all day in the allotment and was off work then for ten weeks. So one day I just tried a vase breath and there was a little intimation that something quite different was starting to happen after the outbreath. This connection between breath and ra bliss is, of course, completely wonderful and a fantastic thing for the human beings who are not too dumb to meditate.

I cannot guarantee what effect I can get vase breathing, but now it is starting to bring the heat and has already brought some weird and wonderful new sensations and experiences. Now, we are hitting another zone somehow. Not always but sometimes. Occasionally. You do feel almost like a different thing when you go into this zone. If meditation could be described as transcendental, this feels like that.

Not a day for the allotment today. Overcast and wet! Because the kiddo is home for the holidays, I've spent the morning here in my bedroom and not in the lobby. Back to ra bliss!

00:34 a.m.
I do not know what I have done to have such a wonderful life!

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Ra Goddo!

Wednesday 5:55 p.m.
"Recently, there has been a lot of backsliding and soft soaping about hell. Now, I am here to tell yous that hell is real and eternal!"

The headmaster's opening statement at a school assembly. Quite took my breath away at the time. Looking around at the wee first years, boy, were they impressed. Mouths hanging open everywhere!

It's a bit tricky punting a benificent deity with this kind of hell! So the God who is good and loving, and knows everything, allows folk to have red hot pokers continually stuck up their bottoms for eternity. Eternity is a long time. The universe has cooled down and there's maybe only a vastness of photons, yet somewhere there still will be the red hot pokers going like the clappers. A wee bit disproportionate that! He also allows people to be born when he knows they're going to end up in this eternal damnation. Dearie me. Shurely shum mishtake!

So no intellectual rigour then, Hotboy. Flatheids, Jack. Just another bunch of stupid flatheids.

Of course, we in the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid don't have any beliefs. The only thing we believe in is not believing in things, especially thoughts!

One half of the allotment is dug and planted with onions and tatties. I'm way ahead of everyone else because I don't like gardening. It just stops you taking much better forms of exercise.

I'll be going out to visit friends and watch Scotland play Italy at the footie. So, I'd just like to take everything back that I said about God. Because I think another miracle is required here. Okay, God. I believe in hell and the benificent deity and any other set of palpably ridiculous contradictions. Just make it three nil to us, right?

10:46p.m.
Tried my best! We got beat 2-0. God is Italian!

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Rose Hellish Things!

Tuesday 7:17 p.m.
The nazi papa has done it again! He says hell is a real place where you will burn in the inferno for eternity. I love this guy! No backsliding and soft soaping going on here! First he gets rid of Limbo, in case any non-catholics think they can escape the burning for evermore, and then he gives us back hell! Brilliant!

Is is under the ground? I bet it is! I mean, you can tell by the volcanoes that it's quite hot down there.

Shame he only mentioned one hell. I think in the Tibetan tradition you can go to hot, cold and intermediate hells. Also, occasional ones. Maybe these are ones you occasionally drop into between lives spent raping and pillaging. But they don't last forever for these buddhisty people. What a cop out! The demons should be sticking the red hot pokers up your bottom endlessly!

I think ... as the sole member and single representative of the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid ... I'll just go to heaven instead. And I'm refusing to die first. So you've got the load of old photons out there, and the organic apparatus for contacting it, and some kind of mind or consciousness at the receiving end. Change any of these three things and the world changes, or how it appears changes. Unless you want to poke about with your eyeballs, or live in Neverland with Michael, you've only got the consciousness to work with. That's what happened to Gopi Krishna, I think. He got the heavenly vision. Hmmm? Might take a while to purify your consciousness, but what else are you doing anyway?

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Rose Afflictives!

Saturday Noon.
Here's how it's starting to work through the analytical meditations.

It's about 11 a.m. and your sitting in the lobby facing the postcard of the Medicine Buddha, which sits with a nice yellow background provided by the wallpaper. Soon after you begin to meditate, your visual field starts to alter a bit; things seem a little less solid and more shoogily.

You look for what you want to negate in yourself (where is the permanent, unchanging Hotboy?) and then in what you want to negate on the postcard of the Medicine Buddha (it looks like one thing but is a composite). There is no separate thing in here and there is no separate thing out there.

Esssentially, you are a thought, and the postcard is a thought, and the wall is a thought, feelings and emotions are also thoughts. You might try getting a particular emotion into your mind at this point, and have a look at it.

Perhaps it seems to lack as much force as you'd expect. The idea: I hate that basturn, for instance, maybe now just seems like an idea or thought which arises in mind, is maintained in mind, and will decline in mind. You kind of lose ownership. It's not yours anymore. It's just more crap arising. So bye, bye to that afflictive emotion.

But, Hotboy, I do hate the basturn and I'd like him to die a long, slow and intensely painful death. I do not wish to forgo the possibility of gaining some satisfaction from wreaking vengeance on his sorry arse!

In that case, Jack, you should contact the putative Hut Manager and get the basturn on the list of those to be cursed. I could do some cursing tomorrow morning because I'll probably be hung over and very crabbit. £10 will put a pluke on the end of anyone's nose. Most unsightly and embarrassing.

I was wanting to set more manuscripts on fire to help the tatties grow. The first big jiffy bag contains the drafts of a radio play I wrote about 1983. Clocked Out. That can go. The next bag had the early drafts of the first book I got published about 1985, City Whitelight. They were done on an Imperial 66 typewriter. How odd to see the typeface again after all these years!

The wish that it be made known that "I was the author" is the thought of a man not yet adult. The Dharmapada. The wall. I certainly wasn't me who wrote City Whitelight. That joe evolved and disappeared a long time ago.

This joe has had a most happy morning and will now go to the diggings!

Friday, March 23, 2007

Ra Bathtime Bliss!

Friday 9:15 p.m.
The water was well passed the cooling down stage by the time I got out of the bath a wee while ago. I'd been lying there for an hour and a half. From the last thirty odd years I've been doing really hard physical jerks at least four times a week, and from this have grown to truly love lying semi-exhausted in baths. Imagine how unsurpassingly wonderful it is when you're lying there with very little consciousness of your body in a great big expanse of ra bliss! Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!

Since I completely gave up beer on January 10th, I've managed to cut my beer consumption by over fifty percent. And I hardly eat at work. And I've been out there running up bleeding giant hills! And shadow boxing my brains out! And I haven't lost one ounce, not one bleeding ounce of fat after all the howdedo. Still, twelve stone three pounds. Fat basturn!

It's because you've been meditating more, Hotboy.
You're my only friend, Jack.
Will I make the match with Jack Dempsey then, fattie?
Fung off!

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Rose Karmic Bonds!

Wednesday 3:50 p.m.
What with having the afternoon off work .... in order to facilitate the Beer Monster Reduction Programme ...another four days with no beer, Jack! One day at a time, Hotboy! ... I set off looking for the Honeyblend Herbal Smoking Mixture. You don't want to know why. Anyway, I'm standing at the counter when someone says excuse me. Whilst waiting for the Medicine Buddha empowerment last Friday, someone said exactly the same thing. Then said it a bit later. And, lo!, it was the same babes! She was wanting by me to get behind the counter. She works there. I had to look three times. Actually, I looked about eight times, but she was engaged in some task and didn't look up.

When I've got the face transplant, the set of Sean Connery/Clint Eastwood gnashers and I'm back to my fighting weight, I'll go back there again. I'll make sure I get served by her.

Can I help you?
Em, (I look a bit quizzical) have you had a Medicine Buddha empowerment?
Why, yes! How did you know?
After a while, you can tell.

That last line is a killer, Jack. You have to be a buddhist to know what a killer line that is. But after that, I'm a bit stuck. She's bound to ask me what I want. What will I say?

And what can I get you?
A packet of strawberry flavoured condoms, please.

You see, Jack! It might be a bit too early in the relationship for a line like that. Anybody out there know of a killer line to follow the first killer line?

When I sat up this morning to start my meditations, there was so much of ra bliss that I couldn't really go through my normal juju routine. I just succumbed to ra bliss. It was so profound and wonderful. This is all of three seconds after you've sat up. A gobsmacking start to the day!!

There is a great auspiciousness in the air just now. It's a shame you can't do anything about people being too dumb to meditate. But there it is. I'm off to the allotment!

9:36 p.m.
A strange person asked me what an empowerment was. Buggered if I know. Juju. They say there's an unbroken line of transmission from the original Buddha traceable down to the joe who's giving you the empowerment, and he's supplying the juice. They say you need them to do tantric stuff, etc., blah, blah, google it. You don't need an empowerment to do the Medicine Buddha sadhana, which is the visualisations and general juju that goes along with it. The strange person could start doing this sadhana at the same time as moi. The book I have is on the net. Free. Then we could levitate together! And what a perfect position he is in! Hasn't even got a proper job! Unfortunately, too dumb to meditate. Dearie me!

I think this is the way it's supposed to work ... grief, sorrow, lamentations ... suffering in this life ... and generally afflictive emotions going chop chop bang bang non-stop ... caused by a false sense of self. Accept your fundamental ignorance and the illusory nature of reality. Enter the deity! Imagine yourself as a deity and this illusion should weaken the first illusion, which is what is funging you up. The afflictive emotions should dissipate. You would be left with a happy, smiley face.

The spam robots only want to hear about ra bliss, Hotboy. Well, Jack, the name of the game is to be able to collect the Four Blisses, it seems. I had an amazing time in ra bliss this morning, but I am nowhere near collecting even the first bliss, said to be the absolutely, amazing and truly fabulous dose of ra bliss. We spam robots .... is there more than one talking spam robot, Jack? .... We spam robots think that human existance sounds like a load of crap apart from ra bliss, Hotboy. Damn right, Jack! Damn right!

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Ris Wonderful Day!

Sunday 12:35 p.m.
Due to being a bad boy and staying up too late, I've just finished my first hour's meditation of the day. Oh, ra bliss! Such a cloud of profound and still yet whitey and oh so blissful bliss!! As I sit here I can feel expanses of something pushing against my skin in a most re-assuring fashion.

Anything else that may occur of an seemingly advantageous nature, such as becoming filthy rich from my new book, is completely unnecessary. I've got everything I need right now. I can do this juju, albeit with greater obstacles, whether I have to keep going to work or not. Meditations like the one I've just had are so on the money!

A nice Mother's Day to all you mothers out there!

6:50 p.m.
Whilst encased in the full Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle, I've just done the best six threes session of shadow boxing ... well, since I started doing then again, probably last summer.

Fears, anxieties, neuroses ... these are sometimes centre stage and in your face a bit. Well, the strength has gone out of the ones I was putting up with a few days ago. It's like a real confidence has taken centre ground and the fears and neuroses can somehow bounce off that ... at least, today anyway. It's as if I know what I'm going to be doing for the rest of my life and I am happy with that. Satisfaction, satiation, contentment ....here we come!

Friday, March 16, 2007

Ra Medicine Buddha

Friday 9:51 p.m.
Around Christmas time in 2002, I went down to the Samye Ling hoping to take refuge and get an empowerment to do deity yoga. The temple there looks at its best when it's dark and wintery outside; all browns and goldens, dim reds and yellows. It was my first day there and the lama was giving a talk to all the folk who'd showed up to spend Christmas away from the InSanity Clause. They run a beginners course then and the temple was full of folk, most of whom might be beginners.

Previous to this, I'd sent the office a letter telling them about reading The Bliss Of Inner Fire and how I wanted a guru and an empowerment to do the great vajrayana. So I'm sitting there in the temple when the lama .... the lama has an informal speaking style. He just talks. He often looks amused. Anyway, I'm listening to the lama when he suddenly says: This is an empowerment to do deity yoga. I thought: What? So he says this is an empowerment to do deity yoga and I can't believe it. I look around at the folk there and ask myself if they're hearing this. If they are, it won't make much odds to them because most of them won't have an idea of what deity yoga is. So why is he saying this? Then I'm locked on him as he explains about this white globe of light (He pretends to hold this up as if it was above his shoulder) and the different coloured rays going out of it and into your body.

I was amazed at this because I thought it was just for me. And I couldn't really believe that.

I said in an earlier post that I wasn't empowered to do deity yoga with the Medicine Buddha, but then I remembered that occasion. In fact, I think that was an empowerment to do the juju with any deity going; a general empowerment.

All the "real" empowerments I got from his big brother. I asked the lama if he could give me something which would be like a seed since my family circumstances precluded any monky business or any long stays in caves. So he said I need a Dorje Sempa empowerment. I did feel pleased. This is an empowerment maybe involving a commitment to do 100, 000 prostrations and 100,000 recitations of the 100 syllable mantra. Of course, I have done none of this.

I thought that was a real guru thing. Like, I asked the lama for something and he gave me something.

"The Way of the White Clouds" is what you want to read if you're interested in getting zapped during empowerments. It's a climax to a lot of hard work on your mind.

Well, we're not anywhere near there yet!

The Royal College of Physicians, it might be called. 9, Queen St. Strange to walk along there. It's right beside Radio Scotland. Once, I had my feng shui. I had about six scripts produced there and it's only a quarter of an hour's walk away.

It has a beautiful, beautiful main hall, this Physicians place. It must be one of these Playfair jobs, one of these amazing Edinburgh buildings you're never in. Greek columns, oil paintings, brilliantly ornate ceiling. I have no excuse for never having been there before. It is a beautiful spot to sit in. This is where the boy who some may regard as the emanation of the Medicine Buddha, Dr Akong Tulku Rinpoche is going to give this empowerment. How did someone have the feng shui to put this together? I mean, this is Edinburgh and this is a medical town. Surgeon's Hall is fabulous as well.

Though it wasn't that full, the most beautiful woman in this big, big room asked if she could sit beside me. My eyes were closed and I'm in the half lotus (I do sit like that if I possibly can!) and usually folk stay clear if you do that, but I moved aside and she sat down.

A springtime story!

She was really sweet! She had four silken scarves. She sat with her left hand in her right palm, and she was there for the empowerment. She asked if she could sit down and she said excuse me twice and I grunted maybe once and a half as I let her get by. I could have gobbled her up in one mouthful. Let the empowerment begin!

We were there to enhance our karmic bonds, Jack.

Dream on, Hotboy!

The Medicine Buddha is represented, as usually happens with buddhas, by a postcard. But it's the best postcard because the Medicine Buddha is the same colour as lapis lazuli, a kind of gorgeous blue. And the postcard is kind of psychodelic and that helps since the visual field hits unusualness these days in seconds flat.

But what a wonderful thing to be involved in and how fantastic that it happened at all. Of course, I was blissed out of my face throughout really. The amazing surroundings and the weird juju that was being enacted with great good humour, I must say, from the rinpoche, made the whole thing just a fabulous way to spend a couple of hours.

I got a wee plastic bag of cosmic medicine. The Doc says it has been matra-ed over for seven days at twenty four hours a day. It's in grains. It's grains of something. If you're starving, one grain can appease your hunger for a day. Total hut management failure here of course. I've got the juju grains from the emanation of the Medicine Buddha here. How much a grain? When you're dying and have to humiliate yourself on the cross of self to save yourself, you can ask me for a grain then. You're not getting any.

I might give it to my auld maw. Saw her today. She didn't like the Bishop of Motherwell saying he wasn't voting Labour. No respect for the clergy. Never did have really. She'd appreciate the magical qualities though.

Ra Congress!

Friday 00:25 a.m.
I have planted 750 onions. My clothes are going on fire. They are called Marks and Spencer training bottoms. If your weight yo-yos ... yes, for fat basturns!

It said there was only ONE American Congressman who did not believe in God. Most folk I know do not believe in God. I assume in the Labour Party who govern us, well, I hope most of them are atheists. Or humanists. Believing in an afterlife means you put up with crap! Obviously, the best thing is for the folk who want to rule over you to think it might be a good idea if you had a good house and some money in the here and now.

We, who are trying to emanate as deities, however, may be allowed a different view.

No, same view!

If we, in the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid do not believe in any things, we cannot, of course, believe in God. How ridiculous!

Absolutes do not dependently arise; they do not interact with other things and they do not change. They are things which, surely, must not really occur, or else I'll have to go back to the beginning.

The flatheid side of moi couldn't really settle today. Agitations. The blissheid side of moi was totally fabuloso. Maybe six or seven hours meditating today. But I just need to totally calm down.

Have we been having any fun, Jack?
Yes, we have, Hotboy! But the Masai Warriors can only jump for so long, and time beats on ... you have to produce the goods. Are we any nearer to perfect peace and total satisfaction?

I shouldn't think so, Jack. But I think I could curse people pretty soon. I can concentrate and stare, and stare, and stare. Hours and hours of this. Hubble Bubble. If the Hubble Bubble Hut Manager could only be found, we could clean up!

If you'd like me to try and wreak total devastation around where you live just leave a comment and I'll get onto it!

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Ra Gilberts!

Wednesday 10:45 p.m.
This deity yoga juju is a twenty four hour a day job. We're in the upper circle at the King's tonight, right at the front so you can see into the orchestra pit and lean back and look up at the ceiling. There are four distinct faces in the centre piece on the ceiling. Somebody must have painted them. I wonder who he painted. Then the music started. Because it was Gilbert and Sullivan, the curtain doesn't rise for ages, and you can go to sleep looking up at the ceiling then if you like. Or close your eyes and do the juju.

You're trying to pretend you're a white light being in the middle of maybe something like a big wedding cake. Sometimes you open you eyes a bit and see just down and away at the end of your nose all these pirates, or policemen, or girls in nice dresses. The cast seemed to be enjoying themselves. All was well with the world.

Because it was Wednesday night and we were in the upper circle, there weren't too many people around us in the front row. I got into a half lotus. I settled into the fabulous bliss. Sometimes I whacked a vase breath in there. Ra bliss went lava-esque. It flows, or maintained a steady flowing without flowing anywhere. And I thought: What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Rem Stories!

Tuesday 7:45 p.m.
Globules of .... who knows .... flowing up and under my chin as I sit here, lifting, stretching. This juju is great, so it is!

Great fire up at the allotment this evening as darkness fell. Newspapers with the added typescripts, mainly from the Buddha and the Big Bad Wolf. I must have had hopes for that book once! Even although I suspected it wasn't very good.

I read the first twenty odd pages of the book I'd almost forgotten about, On Becoming a Living Saint. Unfortunately, after the first sentence, (I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND GOING TO JAIL WHEN YOU'VE FINISHED READING THIS BOOK) the whole thing deteriorates and it seems like a whole lot of under-written crap. Like the one Serpent's Tail published and the new one, it isn't written in proper paragraphs, chapters, etc. Why try to re-invent the wheel? The next book I write is going to have proper sentences, and paragraphs, and chapters.

The story about the joe wanting to become a window cleaner by selling dope is buried in this morass somewhere. Yes, storylines! I should really hold off from writing anything and develope storylines, etc., but I probably won't. But I definitely should. Maybe I could just steal someone else's. Jaws is a straight lift from Moby Dick. Write a sci-fi Moby Dick. Horrible big space monsters that excrete drugs chased after by pirate like spaceships, one of which is captained by Ahab, the one legged nutter. Moby Dick, like Germinal, started with this joe walking into town. "With a rapidly beating heart ..." that's the start. Just add another 100,000 words and give me tenpercent off the top, please!

Monday, March 12, 2007

Ra Quotes!

Monday 7:10 p.m.
What a great start to the day today! Times like Monday morning and Wednesday afternoon are when you can really tell how you're getting on with this juju. This morning I was awake before six and the meditations were going so well that I felt like taking the day off work to meditate. Of course, I went to work and with having to talk to flatheid after flatheid and all the business .... anyway, think positive. Before August, I will have a publisher for my kidbooks and for my new book and will resign. Hurrah! Hurrah! Let's hope!!

I only managed to read the first line of the old "novel" I hacked together a decade ago. It says: I hope you won't mind going to jail after you've finished reading this book.

I also found an old copy of Alma Mater yesterday. There were two quotes at the start of the book, which I later lost. So I'll put them in here just in case I lose them again.

Alma Mater is a book about the second two years of a university career which started in 1969. The year before I went, Malcolm Muggeridge resigned as rector (this is a student representative in Scottish unis). God, as I was watching this drama unfold while still at school... anyway, Edinburgh University turned out to be so much more disappointing than Malcolm Muggeridge made it sound. So here's the quotes at the start of the book. I'll get them put onto my webpage version whenever.


Newman : "A university is an Alma Mater, knowing her children one by one, not a foundry, or a mint, or a treadmill. "

Malcolm Muggeridge: "Yet, how infinitely sad; how, in a macabre sort of way, funny that the form their insubordination takes should be a demand for Pot and Pills, for the most tenth rate sort of escapism and self-indulgence ever known! (On resigning as University Rector, January 1968)

The flat is empty apart from me till Wednesday. Bring on the dancing girls!

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Ra Improvements!

Sunday 7:33 p.m.
I went looking for the story I was telling you about, the one about the joe who wanted to deal dope so he could become a window cleaner. I used it in a "novel" I threw together from odds and ends about ten years ago.

This entailed searching through piles of old manuscripts in the corner of my room, mostly rejections for The Buddha and the Big Bad Wolf as it turned out. Then I found the first forty odd pages of this "novel". What a title!

On Becoming a Living Saint
Reflections on Religion and Drugs
Or
How to legalise dope.

The one I got published about 11 years ago now was supposed to be called:
On Becoming a Man
Reflections on Sex and Violence
Or
Are you boys cyclists?

I called it that because one of the best books I ever read was Reflections on Violence by Georges Sorel, a French anarchist who later turned fascist. I can just remember good things about the book though.

They paid young people like me good money to go to university and read books like that. What a fortunate creature I was!

Yes, I feel much better than I did this time last week. I've given up beer completely now, apart from yesterday and Wednesday. The meditations continue to develope in a fabulous manner. They really do. It just gets better and better and better. But it's hard too. The trip to Bellshill usually breaks up the intensity of it. It's heavy duty juju, all this staying in and meditating most of the time. Brilliant results though. I think I'll away off and wallow in the results!

Friday, March 09, 2007

Ra Whereabouts!

Friday 1:26 p.m.
Here in the Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid, we ...

We embrace our ignorance.
We don't believe in any things,
Especially thoughts!

Nothing exists outside your own mind.

How can nothing exist outside your own mind?

Where are the deities then, Hotboy?
They're in your mind, Jack.
And the moon also exists in your mind, Hotboy?
Where else could it exist, Jack?
It could be in orbit around the earth, Hotboy!
It is in orbit around the earth, Jack.
I know. The first Scotsman on the moon, Neil Armstrong, jumped up and down on it.
And he didn't think it was in his mind?
He thought it was under his feet, Hotboy!
I can see how he might think that. It's still in his mind though. He's not thinking with anything else. Thoughts don't occur anywhere else but your mind. When you're thinking, what else could you be using?


Is this a paradox, Hotboy? It might well be one of those, Jack. Things exist and don't exist simultaneously. You don't get more paradoxical than that. Well, an electron being part of the wave/particle duality is a bit of a paradox, and all the flatheids don't seem to have much trouble accepting that one.

You've got a problem if you're stuck with your mind being between your ears. Maybe we could call it mind, or Mind, or MIND.

All things arise, abide and decline in mind.

I was doing a bit of deity yoga today, as you do, when I wondered where the deity was. I thought: It's in your mind, Hotboy. Then everything was in my mind (Mind, MIND) for a moment and this felt very good. A little touch of realisation maybe. Just lost the individual self for a wee bit. It went out. It came back after a wee while. One day I hope it goes out and stays out.

Why is that, Hotboy? Well, Jack, when that happens there will be nothing to worry about and no one to worry. There will be no sentient beings. Or, you could say, there will be sentient beings, but although they will appear distinct, they will not be separate.

Surely, this is as close to heaven as you could expect to get on this earth.

None of the above is true, of course. We don't do truth here on RaBlissBlog. If we don't believe in things, how can anything be true? The Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid has no beliefs. We deal in results. We want to be happy. Or, at least, happier!

When I started this bloggy, I think I was having a problem with vase breathing sometimes. Like, juddering sensations on the outbreath and feeling like a I was going to black out even holding my breath for a little while. I was meditating for over three hours this morning. Sometimes I had a wee problem holding my breath because of the amount of ra bliss I was generating. What a fortunate, fortunate creature I am!!

I'm off to the allotment on my nazi bike!

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Ra Rationale of Cheerfulness!

Thursday 10:26 a.m.
Reasons to be cheerful:
1) My body and mind fill with bliss and rapture with increasing frequency. I am a HotboyMadyamika and I can surf the oceans of bliss. This beats everything hands down!
2) I have a root guru.
3) I have a literary agent, Mr Adrian Weston.
4) I have managed to survive working part time for nearly three years now.
5) I live rent free in the middle of a beautiful city. I can't imagine wanting to live anywhere else.
6) I've still got the girlfriend I had when I was nineteen. I get on well with my daughter.
7) I've had my ten seconds of non-self and emptiness.

Here's some juju I've been practising recently with great effect. You imagine the deity in front of you. You get it placed above your head. (I am still crap at these visualisations, but this still works) You imagine a white stream of ra bliss coming from the deity and going through the top of your head. This bliss continues to fill your entire body while pollutants, etc., are expelled. Unfortunately, bliss is just a word to a flatheid, but I can't help that. But we've got oodles and oodles of ra bliss filling your mind and body in a great expansion of ra bliss.

Say to the deity: Cure me of all my addictions. After a while, the deity says: Hotboy, you are cured of all your addictions. This feels truly fantastic! Then you get the deity into a white line and dissolve it into yourself.

That'll be ten percent off the top, please. Now, I'm away to Bellshill.

12:50 p.m.
When I got to Waverley Station, I discovered there was a strike on. Bugger! Still, free beer for the workers!

This is RaBlissBlog!!! Oh, how ra bliss jumped up this morning! Week on week, it just gets better and better. Fantastic effects from vase breathing this morning. Lots of lovely warm feelings in the abdomen. And ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!! No question of me not getting blissed out when I lie flat these days.

10:10 p.m.
Planted 200 onions and sat in the hut. It was cold and windy sometimes, and the hut door rattled a bit. I need another bit of string. There's a bit of twine at the moment wrapped round a wee brush, and that hangs from the nail the twine is wrapped round ... the door doesn't shut right. This is the sort of job for the putative hut manager.

I put out the bird nest box and it's on a safer nail than the one it was on last year.

I don't like gardening. I sometimes like looking around at the sky while having a wee rest from the digging. There's a big sky at the allotments. I don't think there are any tall buildings anywhere near. You can move your head from side to side and get a sweep of sky from treetop to distant treetop. This is all the fun you get gardening.

I read The Times. That was more or less it. No time for anything else. No time for beer. No money for beer. No beer.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Ra Reasons to be Cheerful!

Wednesday 1:30 p.m.
Reasons to be cheerful. 1) It is Wednesday 2) I have no diseases at the moment 3) It is not raining 4) Dearie me!

How did I ever do five days a week? I told my job share partner I might go looking in the jobshop for jobbies over the next few days. Waste of time of course. Still, I need a break or something.

Thank god I've got one! I'm going to hava wee kip and then go to the allotment, and meditate and dig.

6:20 p.m.
I think this is the eleventh year we've had the allotment. Wasn't my idea, certainly not! I got forced to have a look. I'm feeling a bit hungover as I look down at this big piece of dirt. "I wonder who the fung is going to dig this then?". Of course, the answer was moi! I was told when I was a kid that if I did well at school, I wouldn't have to work outside. God knows how much writing that dirt has cost me.

It's in a better state now than it's ever been in the springtime due to me working part time over the last couple of years. I'm going to try not to run out of onions this year. I'm going to plant six hundred. It won't be enough!

By Friday I'm normally very happy. I haven't had a beer on Sunday, Monday or Tuesday nights. Celtic are playing A.C. Milan down the pub tonight. I can't see it anywhere else. Hmmm? Last sixteen of the European Cup. Hmmmm?

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Ra Plot and Losing It!

Tuesday 5:21 p.m.
It was at the this time of night after working all day that I'd come here and write my two kidbooks. How the hell did I get the energy for that? Anyway, needs must.

I've decided that - since there's nothing I'm burning to write about - I'll work on storylines, or plotlines. The first one I'm going to work on is about a little guy who gets involved with big criminal types, stumbling from incident to incident, and ends up with the money/girl, or whatever.

I'm going to build this story from a beginning someone told me about. Here's how the first chapter goes.

The joe wants to get into dope dealing to finance his ambitions to be a window cleaner with a ladder, pails, and a white van. His dodgy pal sets this up for him, so one day he's standing on a pavement and gets picked up by this dealer who lays a kilo of hash on him. He's to pay later. The joe takes the dope home and takes his dog out to the park for a walk. There he stashes the drugs, but as he walks around the top of the park, several men in suits run into the park, point at him, take the drugs from where he's put them and run off. End of chapter one.

A humourous adventure story of derring-do if ever I saw one. I'd like to get a boat sunk out on the Forth. Maybe the joe gets marooned on an island in the Forth. In the end, maybe everybody dies except him. He'll have to end up with enough to set up a window cleaning business, of course. Or something like that. What do you think so far?

Sunday, March 04, 2007

Ra Lonely Financial Zoner!

Sunday 6:20 p.m.
I ate one of my teeth on Wednesday. Makes you think. So I just spent all the rest of my overdraft. It was a blow to the poor people. How are the poor people supposed to spear and cook the geese in Inverleith Pond if they can't afford the teeth to chew them? What if we hadn't any spears? Geese gummed to death.

One thing I've never tried to write is science fiction.

When Adolfphus Nannbugger MenziesMilngavieavitch looked up from the mutilated corpse of Albert McClonkiedickheadson, he saw A Very Long Name in a hot air balloon, accompanied by his ritinue of nasty dwarves and robot sex slaves, come over the hill.

I have written a dirty book before!

Best to draw a veil over that really.

I think I'd like to write something unusual, interesting and funny. I've never tried to write a funny book before. I'd tried to write funny bits into books. How's about a funny book with a really strong plotline?

Relaxing and trying to get in among the populace has been a big failure. I've no money left. Bad thoughts arise. I've consumed expensive dental treatment. Regret, paranoia, etcetera. And I've got to go to work tomorrow. Is this some kind of a joke, God?

Friday, March 02, 2007

Ra Ideas Factory!

Friday 8:45 p.m.
The sensei and reverend sent me an email saying Bomber was alright the way it was. I finished reading it today. I liked the first chapter, as I said, but after that it's just a lot of shifting the furniture around. All the okay bits were late additions, but I can't see me going in and re-writing that. So I'll have to get an idea. Where do these writers get their ideas from? If I'm not going to re-write Bomber, I'm back to the question of how many dwarves, and will anyone escape by hot air balloon?

When Adolfphus Nannbugger Milngavieavitch looked up from the mutilated corpse of Albert McClonkiedickhead, he saw A Very Long Name come over the hill in a hot air balloon, accompanied as usual by his retinue of nasty dwarves.

Are you allowed to say nasty dwarves? Nasty, vertically challenged folk!

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Rose Zones!

Thursday, Noon.
This is RaBlissBlog! Here to tell you flatheids all about ra bliss. Unfortunately, it is very hard to describe sensations or feelings to people (i.e. flatheids!), especially when they will never have an analogous experience of them due to being too dumb to meditate. But one day some joe or josephine who does meditate and follow this juju path may happenstance upon RaBlissBliog and this might be a help to you, you fortunate creature, you!

Setting the scene. The flat is empty. I should be on my own till about eleven this evening with any luck. Last night I was so knackered from trying too hard that I slept, more or less, from eight in the evening till about two or three hours ago. So I am well refreshed.

I guess I should reiterate a bit.

You're a flatheid, but you start meditating regularly and finally odd things start occurring. You will experience various degrees of bliss and feel strange movements begin to manifest in your body, except these movements (and feelings) seem to occur in an aspect of your body/mind that you did not realise was there before. At this point, you are not longer so flatheided and have experience of other mental and physical "zones." Years of occasional wonderful experiences await you at this stage.

Once you have taken refuge and empowerments, I don't see how you can claim total personal responsibility for what happens after that, though of course you still have to put the cushion time in. When you're a non-meditating moronic flatheid, there's really not even much point in talking to you about zones and bliss and whatnot, but when you're at my stage (which is very much still the beginner), you have to admit that you have no idea where this juju can lead you in terms of mental abilities, siddhis, and whatnot, so you just hope you will not crash and burn, and if you are about to, maybe you can get some help. Obviously, if you were brought up in this tradition, had a justifiable faith in the juju, etc., this would be much easier. But here we are.

Different things are beginning to occur, which is why I should take this opportunity today in making a very poor stab at describing what might be going on. Something else has checked in. It has come with what little access to heat I have. In the after-effects of the vase breathing this morning a very strange zone arose. There's a slightly more substantial feeling here. It feels easier to imagine you are a deity in this state. Remember, you have to feel proud, vajra pride, and the mandala you are in should have some kind of radiance, according to what I have read. I'm still very very poor at these visualisations, but you just go back and back and back over them time and time and time again and eventually a little improvement becomes evident.

I'll go and meditate till 2 p.m. and decide what to do.

4:30 p.m.
I went to Bert's Bar to read Bomber, a book I last re-wrote god knows how long ago. How pleased I was! I got through four pints of IPA (3.8%) and managed to read 104 pages. If it ends up as good as this, I won't bother re-writing it. It's not bad.

The main character is called Simon Sweik. He's called Simon Sweik because I lifted the name from a book called The Good Soldier Swejk, or Svejk, or something Czech. It's an old book about this joe stumbling around Austro-Hungary at the time of the First World War. Nobody ever asked me why I called the joe Sweik.

The baddie is called Sildwick. I have no idea why he's called that. There's someone called Camille. I must have thought that was exotic. There's someone called Lexie. He called that because my friend Jerry know someone from the wild west called Lexie.

I thought the trouble with the book was that there wasn't enough rationale for the guy to be into vengeance; not really enough character development there really. Hmmm? The book's okay so far, but we've just come to the end of the first act and a bit really.

Susan Hiltz is the name of the girl.

Three men of even older provenance than me were sitting reading books in Bert's Bar. Paperbacks. I was the only one who was reading a book I'd written myself. I wanted to give one of them my book and tell them to put away the crap they were reading for my book was much better. They would not have believed me. My book is not published. It is in a folder.

I would like a criticism of the book before I re-write it. If anyone out there reads it and sends me a few lines about it, I'll change the names to suit them. Of course, the book will get published one day. I remember sending the first chapter to some agent who said they didn't like the main character. There are half witted fools out there deciding what you get to read. The filters don't work. Cos the vandals took the handles.
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