Ra Big Jambo Day!

Thursday, Ist May. 8:46 a.m.
The Amazing Bloggy Church of the Bad Boy Blissheid has declared the Ist of May to be Big Jambo Day. It was on the 1st of May, 1988 that the Domestic Bliss went back to work and I was left for the first time in sole charge of the kiddo. And it was on that day that the Big Jambo and Jeannie drove us down for my first visit to the Samye Ling. It was also the Big Jambo who introduced me to the Autobiography of a Yogi, which was very influential. Rest in Peace.

Of course, it's also Labour Day. Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer, we'll keep the red flag flying here!

10:58 p.m.
You can't explain about ra bliss to flatheids because they're flatheids, but ... when I got off the couch about four, it was pouring down and I sat in the lobby instead of going to the allotment. The Dalai Lama said that even when you are in the mandala, you will have to deal with the afflictive emotions.

Grieving and bliss. My face was wet with tears. I didn't mind. You have to grieve sometimes. It's cleansing. Such was ra bliss and the tears rolling down my face. So long as nobody's there to see you, it doesn't really matter. When someone you know commits suicide, there's such a sense of failure with the loss as well. All this during the startling bliss.

Filled with the spirit. What can you say? The priest once said that you're body was a temple of the Holy Ghost and that's why you shouldn't do bad things to yourself. The Holy Ghost, and kundalini and prana ...

I've been using as many Thursdays for meditation as I can since I became a part time worker four years ago. How they have helped! These days are my best days. The tears aren't a problem. Sometimes you're supposed to weep.

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, and the women come out to cut up the remains, jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains, an' go to your Gawd like a soldier. Kipling.

The diggings have all been dug, Jack! Apart from a little band where the strawberries are growing, I've dug the whole bloody thing over the last month. You can't win. It's my penance. The weeds will overtake you in the end, but in the war against the couch grass, today is one nil to moi. And it has become my little piece of heaven. Everything looked wonderful this evening. The sky, the grass, and the robin that sat on a post right behind me and swooped down on the odd brown, glistening centipede unearthed. The daffodils are fading and the apple blossom is starting to bloom. All I have to do now for ages is keep the grass borders in order. The digging always kicks the shit out of me, but the allotment has never looked better than it did tonight. There is a satisfaction in this completion.