Ra Current Meditations.

Thursday 10:50 a.m.
The first hour and a half meditation today went well as far as ra bliss and heat was concerned, but was underlined by such an amount of crabbitness that I thought I come and try to blog some of it away.

I'll detail how I practise these days first of all, so this is really of no interest to flatheids. If you don't meditate, just fung off and blow your brains out, eh?

Totally crabbit today! Irritation latching onto all kinds of things. Last night I couldn't sleep for getting annoyed (at nothing, of course) and this just shows how far I've fallen back since the last load of flatheids came to visit and funged up my chances to meditate last weekend. Anyway ...

I'm going to write down my meditation sequence just now as a kind of record for myself. Talk about over-elaborate. I'll cut to the chase when I finish here.

I start with a list of gurus, visualising them in front and then getting them over my head and bringing them through my body as a white, purifying "substance". These are in order: Lama Yeshe, Dr Akong, Teresa, Dalai Lama, Kalu Rinpoche, 16th Karmapa, 17th Karmapa (see you in Rumtek!), Lama Thebten Yeshe, Lama Yeshe again. Then Jesus Christ's head from the Turin Shroud.

In the re-write of The Real McCoy I'm going to invent a church for the boy who can float. It should be not dissimilar to The Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid, but I might call it The Disbelieving Congregation of Christ the Buddhist for the sake of the novel.

It would be a step forward if somebody would start to take Christ away from the Christians. That son of God crap just blew the whole thing out the water. What a bunch of flatheids!

Compassion and altruism is the basis of the path. Let all sentient beings be happy. Then it's onto the visualisation of dead relatives and friends, and some people I really didn't get on with too well, but who are dead. If you don't get on with me, you die, you flatheided basturns!

There are at least seventeen dead people on this list and not one of them got down to ra bliss. Not one of them got emptiness even on an intellectual level. What a waste of human beingness! Fung off flatheids!

Then I go through the dying process as recounted by the Tibetans. Mirage, clouds, etc., etc. I am the dharmakaya. That's ground zero. Then go blue and put in the symbols and the red and white tubes.

I'm doing vase breathing at times throughout this and the crabbitness is still jumping out of me. But your concentration doesn't need to be too good for vase breathing to work and there's crabbitness, ra bliss and heat. Of course, because my mind isn't really calm enough, it's not very satisfactory.

Then I start the Medicine Buddha juju. Basically, I'm skighting through the generation stage and getting down to the red navel symbol.

You're going to go to hell, Hotboy! Fung it, Jack! I might go to hell, but it won't be me!

In the book of the Cincinatti Kid, the Steve McQueen character goes through mental routines before he goes to play the man. The guy is uneducated, but I think he goes through the multiplication tables both ways, backwards and forwards, up to about sixteen times sixteen, I think.

If you've got a long time to meditate maybe you can do stuff like I've described. At least it monitors your concentration levels and how clear your mind is.

When I go back to the lobby, I'll try not think that I've now lost all tomorrow. The auld maw during the day is fine. But after that folk are coming for a meal and then I've to go to see an ancient greek play.

Anyone who wants to put on an ancient greek play, no doubt with a modern interprative spin, should be forced to eat cyanide pills. It'll be a big production with a star flashing his bum at us all. I keep telling the social secretary not to pick drama for me, but does she ever listen ... I'd much rather go and see two actors with one chair for a set playing fifteen characters each. Much rather! Much rathe drink piss!

Nearly half eleven. This is one of the best times for me to meditate. This time it's Medicine Buddha juju. And down to the navel symbol as quick as possible.

It's still going to be a wonderful day.

1:50 p.m.
You've got to let it go, Hotboy. I know that, Jack. It's going. It's going. I wish it had never been there to start with. Where did it come from? It arose in emptiness. It abides in emptiness. Fortunately, it's almost declined entirely. If I can get half an hour up the allotment now anything like the time I had at the Samye Ling, then I'd settle for that. Expect nothing. Just keep pracitising as the man said!