Ra Bad Boys!
Wednesday 2:15 p.m.
When his boat had docked at Leith last night, my wee brother Popeye came to see me. Unbeknownst to him, I've been a confirmed teetotalist since my barrel ran dry on Saturday night and when I got home from the Tai Chi, bottles of Hoegarden wheat beer were waiting for me on the kitchen table. Well, it would have been rude not to have had a few!
Wine is the drink associated with catholicism and coffee is associated with the moslems. I think the drink for buddhists should be beer. Of course, proper practitioners don't touch alcohol, but when Gampopa first met Milarepa, the great Tibetan saint, practically the first thing Milarepa did was give him a skull full of alcohol to drink. Although he'd taken vows to lay off the bevvy, Gampopa gulped the lot in a oner!
I'd like to drink beer out of a skull. Anyone got one to spare?
Three of the four main disciples of Gampopa were the bad boy brothers from Kham. They were fully enlightened and kept asking Gampopa if they could have some beer. He allowed them three skullsful of barley beer and they went off up the mountain to display their miraculous powers and to show that being pissed was no impediment to them maybe. Later on, they were partying in the monastery, singing and dancing (I suspect not without female company!) and were ordered to leave by the Discipline Master. When they were leaving , they prostrated towards Gampopa, who'd gone into retreat up the mountain, and the grass bowed, and the trees bowed along with them. Gampopa hurried down the mountain and asked them to please not go away. It seems that nobody objected to their carousing after that!
My brother Popeye seems to have really enjoyed my new book! Who cares if it doesn't get published?! It won't make Popeye into a meditator. Who cares? I yam what I yam, says Popeye! He might be a Taoist! I'm going to take a copy to my brother Silvest, row of forty medals on his chest, big chest, who lives in Bellshill on Friday. Who cares if he thinks meditation is a lot of something odourous?!
I'm in such good humour at the moment! I don't have to go to work again till Monday and it's only three weeks till I have six weeks off. After taking my bread out of the oven, I'm away to the allotment to do some mega bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
1:35 a.m.
And the sun shone. The meditations were mighty. After seeing my wee brother, Popeye, I think it does not matter if you are a flatheid. He's a much nicer joe than I am. Ditto several others en famille. Unfortunately, they do not get ra bliss. Well, it would be good for them if they got ra bliss, had access to ra bliss, and could do ra bliss when they needed to, but they are still the wonderful people and my support. In this mandala, they will live well and pass away with courage, and I should stop hassling them just because the flatheids are too dumb to meditate .... even Albert Einstein was too dumb to meditate ... and only truly, truly fortunate creatures will experience ra bliss, and there's really no point in giving them a bad time. Because they are my support. The supporting joes and josephines. When I get a bit better at this juju, I will realise and know that there is only one thing, and then who am I shouting at?
I read in The Times today that the most popular name for boys in Britain now is Jack.
How are you, Jack? Me and all the spam robots are sticking with you, Hotboy! There is only one thing. There's only one thing. Experiential mysticism is the game here! Are the Masai Warriors bouncing up and down behind you, Hotboy? Of course, they are, Jack! And The Alien Creatures from Outer Space? Where are they, Hotboy? They're configuring right by my side, and supporting me, and saying: Go for it, Hotboy. Take to the hut! There's only one thing, and we're all on the lid, rising up. There is no such thing as being on your own. We don't do being on your own in RaBlissBlog! With slight exaggerations, some spitting, chibbing, tolchocking and some terrible mistakes after which we may make amends ... just try hard and keep the motivation right! Into ra bliss! Into ra bliss!
When his boat had docked at Leith last night, my wee brother Popeye came to see me. Unbeknownst to him, I've been a confirmed teetotalist since my barrel ran dry on Saturday night and when I got home from the Tai Chi, bottles of Hoegarden wheat beer were waiting for me on the kitchen table. Well, it would have been rude not to have had a few!
Wine is the drink associated with catholicism and coffee is associated with the moslems. I think the drink for buddhists should be beer. Of course, proper practitioners don't touch alcohol, but when Gampopa first met Milarepa, the great Tibetan saint, practically the first thing Milarepa did was give him a skull full of alcohol to drink. Although he'd taken vows to lay off the bevvy, Gampopa gulped the lot in a oner!
I'd like to drink beer out of a skull. Anyone got one to spare?
Three of the four main disciples of Gampopa were the bad boy brothers from Kham. They were fully enlightened and kept asking Gampopa if they could have some beer. He allowed them three skullsful of barley beer and they went off up the mountain to display their miraculous powers and to show that being pissed was no impediment to them maybe. Later on, they were partying in the monastery, singing and dancing (I suspect not without female company!) and were ordered to leave by the Discipline Master. When they were leaving , they prostrated towards Gampopa, who'd gone into retreat up the mountain, and the grass bowed, and the trees bowed along with them. Gampopa hurried down the mountain and asked them to please not go away. It seems that nobody objected to their carousing after that!
My brother Popeye seems to have really enjoyed my new book! Who cares if it doesn't get published?! It won't make Popeye into a meditator. Who cares? I yam what I yam, says Popeye! He might be a Taoist! I'm going to take a copy to my brother Silvest, row of forty medals on his chest, big chest, who lives in Bellshill on Friday. Who cares if he thinks meditation is a lot of something odourous?!
I'm in such good humour at the moment! I don't have to go to work again till Monday and it's only three weeks till I have six weeks off. After taking my bread out of the oven, I'm away to the allotment to do some mega bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss! What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
1:35 a.m.
And the sun shone. The meditations were mighty. After seeing my wee brother, Popeye, I think it does not matter if you are a flatheid. He's a much nicer joe than I am. Ditto several others en famille. Unfortunately, they do not get ra bliss. Well, it would be good for them if they got ra bliss, had access to ra bliss, and could do ra bliss when they needed to, but they are still the wonderful people and my support. In this mandala, they will live well and pass away with courage, and I should stop hassling them just because the flatheids are too dumb to meditate .... even Albert Einstein was too dumb to meditate ... and only truly, truly fortunate creatures will experience ra bliss, and there's really no point in giving them a bad time. Because they are my support. The supporting joes and josephines. When I get a bit better at this juju, I will realise and know that there is only one thing, and then who am I shouting at?
I read in The Times today that the most popular name for boys in Britain now is Jack.
How are you, Jack? Me and all the spam robots are sticking with you, Hotboy! There is only one thing. There's only one thing. Experiential mysticism is the game here! Are the Masai Warriors bouncing up and down behind you, Hotboy? Of course, they are, Jack! And The Alien Creatures from Outer Space? Where are they, Hotboy? They're configuring right by my side, and supporting me, and saying: Go for it, Hotboy. Take to the hut! There's only one thing, and we're all on the lid, rising up. There is no such thing as being on your own. We don't do being on your own in RaBlissBlog! With slight exaggerations, some spitting, chibbing, tolchocking and some terrible mistakes after which we may make amends ... just try hard and keep the motivation right! Into ra bliss! Into ra bliss!
posted by Hotboy at 2:14 PM
2 Comments:
I say!
Around Kalimbuka, Chibuku beer is very popular. Made from maize, I believe. Comes in cartons not unlike those used in Blighty for milk, nowadays.
MM III
Mingin'! A carton of beer? Is it flat? Dearie me! Mind you, I've seen wine drank out of cartons. If I had a hot air balloon, I could take my barrel to Kalimbuka and clean up, so I could! Hotboy
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