Wednesday 11:50 p.m.
It was the summer we never had when I wakened up on the couch, having crashed for two straight hours after posting last. So I went out to the Botanics.
It was just the same as last summer when the weather was like the best summetimes should be. I went to the same part of the Botanics and rolled up my shirt to sit on because the ground is so damp these days. I had on the clip on shades and faced the way I would have last summer when I went there to meditate many afternoons ago.
That's the way you can tell if the time has made much of a difference; see if the juju is really working. I just had the most wonderful time sitting there. There's been lots of progress since I got the literary agent and decided to get into the purification a bit more; got the Medicine Buddha empowerment; and got my ears bashed in the gong thumping ten days down at the Samye Ling. Lots of progress. That really just means that I was having an even more wonderful time than I was having last summer, and that seemed pretty wonderful at the time. Being able to do such amount of ra bliss is a fabulous facility indeed.
Property Is Theft by Proudon is all about inter-connectedness, if I remember aright. How many people did it take to make the computer? How can you really own something which has taken millions of human beings to produce? So I'm sitting there in the Botanical Gardens knowing I cannot take ownership of this. If anything was ever so dependently arising.
It's the same as writing novels. You can only claim the wee tottie bit at the end. You didn't invent the language and somebody taught you how to read and write, just for starters.
So thanks for the flatheids who keep everything ticking over in this society so I can end up in the Botanic Gardens, sitting there doing ra bliss in spades. The one thing I did right in this life was teach myself to meditate. There wasn't really anything else I needed to do. Just learn how to meditate and stick with it. Unfortunately, if you don't meditate, you don't get ra bliss. Flatheids just don't get ra bliss, Jack. What a shame! How could you not like bliss?
Wednesday, 22 August 2007
Ra Numpty Bye, Bye!
Wednesday 1:20 p.m.
Hello, Jack the Spam Robot! The Masai Warriors, Alien Creatures from Outer Space, and any other flatheids who are too dumb to meditate and who don't mind coming here to be insulted, hello!
Hotboy has left the jobbie behind till next Monday and I am not the slightest bit furious at all. I must admit that I heard something at the start of the week that made me so incandescent with rage that I was unable to clicky clicky on the computery thing for several seconds. Anyone who has read my new book will maybe have had the impression that I think those numpties responsible for public education in this fair city deserve to be boiled in oil ... well, it was worse than that. The unbelievably stupid decision. They should have the skin flayed off their backs before being boiled in oil.
I thought I could write thenewbook2 starting right here, but after several hours of meditation that night, I was over it. I'm just a part time support worker and shouldn't think above my salary grade. Certainly not. Morons run the education of the poor and the ordinary in this town.They're so stupid there's no point in even talking to them.
People who know me, being mostly the progeny of the evil bourgeois, probably think I'm a bit of a commie, but who with any money and any sense would send their precious children to a bog standard comprehensive in this town? A rich idiot?
Dearie me!
But what a wonderful start to today! What great dollops and megadoses of ra bliss I had to put up with this morning as I meditated before going to the jobbie! And these next few days are going to be just bloody wonderful every time I sit down to do the juju.
I knew it was only the drink and drugs that were keeping my feet on terra firma. I told any flatheids who would listen (Hello, Jack!) that as soon as I stopped with the drink and drugs I would become unbearably cheerful and euphoric. And this is the start of it. This is Day One!
You should ask yourself at this point if you can get right out of your face on air. Can you? How about closing your eyes and succumbing to the megabliss? You can't do that either! It's unbelievable that everyone can't do this. Flatheids to the left of me! Flatheids to the right of me!
All I have to do is keep the flatheids at bay as much as possible. Also, never believe a single thought I have. Especially when I'm tired. Especially the one that tells me to go and get some Erdinger because I need a break from the wonderments. As far as I can tell, only Saturday evening has been taken away from me. The rest is all mine, Jack! All mine! All mine! Even the sun has started to shine. What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
Hello, Jack the Spam Robot! The Masai Warriors, Alien Creatures from Outer Space, and any other flatheids who are too dumb to meditate and who don't mind coming here to be insulted, hello!
Hotboy has left the jobbie behind till next Monday and I am not the slightest bit furious at all. I must admit that I heard something at the start of the week that made me so incandescent with rage that I was unable to clicky clicky on the computery thing for several seconds. Anyone who has read my new book will maybe have had the impression that I think those numpties responsible for public education in this fair city deserve to be boiled in oil ... well, it was worse than that. The unbelievably stupid decision. They should have the skin flayed off their backs before being boiled in oil.
I thought I could write thenewbook2 starting right here, but after several hours of meditation that night, I was over it. I'm just a part time support worker and shouldn't think above my salary grade. Certainly not. Morons run the education of the poor and the ordinary in this town.They're so stupid there's no point in even talking to them.
People who know me, being mostly the progeny of the evil bourgeois, probably think I'm a bit of a commie, but who with any money and any sense would send their precious children to a bog standard comprehensive in this town? A rich idiot?
Dearie me!
But what a wonderful start to today! What great dollops and megadoses of ra bliss I had to put up with this morning as I meditated before going to the jobbie! And these next few days are going to be just bloody wonderful every time I sit down to do the juju.
I knew it was only the drink and drugs that were keeping my feet on terra firma. I told any flatheids who would listen (Hello, Jack!) that as soon as I stopped with the drink and drugs I would become unbearably cheerful and euphoric. And this is the start of it. This is Day One!
You should ask yourself at this point if you can get right out of your face on air. Can you? How about closing your eyes and succumbing to the megabliss? You can't do that either! It's unbelievable that everyone can't do this. Flatheids to the left of me! Flatheids to the right of me!
All I have to do is keep the flatheids at bay as much as possible. Also, never believe a single thought I have. Especially when I'm tired. Especially the one that tells me to go and get some Erdinger because I need a break from the wonderments. As far as I can tell, only Saturday evening has been taken away from me. The rest is all mine, Jack! All mine! All mine! Even the sun has started to shine. What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
Sunday, 19 August 2007
Ra Sunday's Child!
Sunday 8:20 p.m.
After a week of no drink or drugs, I've just come back from buying myself a can of wifebeater (cold) and several bottles of Erdinger (in the freezer now!)
When I haven't been meditating, sometimes I've felt exhausted and I don't know why. Well, I've been trying too hard, methinks. Too much of the rod to the back here, Jack. Oh, you might say. Oh again! He goes to work for two and a half days a week and he's exhausted. Try working down the fung pits and see how exhausted you are!
I don't think I've got a disease. It must be trying too hard when I'm doing this juju. The mind has to be like a guitar string: not too tight and not too slack. (I don't think they had guitars in the Buddha's time, but you know what I mean!).
I tried to socialise yesterday. I cycled in the rain to see my chum Poisonous. It's not far, but I was lying there on his carpet being exhausted. Poisonous was quite animated for Poisonous, and then Shiva showed up and he was positively chipper. When I got back to the flat, I lay on the couch and felt that clingy way you can be when you're exhausted, then did ra bliss and fell into a deep sleep. The Domestic Bliss wakened me up to go to the movies, which I'd agreed to do since it's cheap and I wasn't going to have any drugs or drink.
We never got in. So we went to see Transformers which seemed to star the captain of the Rangers Football team, or his wee brother. There's a bit at the end of this movie which is too long with too much shooty shooty and too many motor cars flying through the air. Being still exhausted, I closed my eyes for a moment or two.
A lot of funny stuff happens in your body when you're doing the vajrayana. It's not even the body that a flatheid would recognise, but a lot of funny stuff happens in there anyway. Maybe that was making me exhausted, I thought. Some weird shit going on that exhausts you. Good and bad stuff can happen, the boy says.
I thought it was worth it. It's so amazingly wonderful to be doing this vajrayana juju that almost anything is. So you get a bit tired as well. Overtired. Your guitar string is too tight. Well, a few beers, and tomorrow I'll still moida da bums!
With acknowledgements to the digger who's name I couldn't find on google on Saturday morning, I thought of this. This is maybe why I've never tried to write poetry....
As I rode into Ballarat
I met a man whose heid was flat
When I asked him if he could be told
He said those hills are just as old as yonder plains
And that was that!
After a week of no drink or drugs, I've just come back from buying myself a can of wifebeater (cold) and several bottles of Erdinger (in the freezer now!)
When I haven't been meditating, sometimes I've felt exhausted and I don't know why. Well, I've been trying too hard, methinks. Too much of the rod to the back here, Jack. Oh, you might say. Oh again! He goes to work for two and a half days a week and he's exhausted. Try working down the fung pits and see how exhausted you are!
I don't think I've got a disease. It must be trying too hard when I'm doing this juju. The mind has to be like a guitar string: not too tight and not too slack. (I don't think they had guitars in the Buddha's time, but you know what I mean!).
I tried to socialise yesterday. I cycled in the rain to see my chum Poisonous. It's not far, but I was lying there on his carpet being exhausted. Poisonous was quite animated for Poisonous, and then Shiva showed up and he was positively chipper. When I got back to the flat, I lay on the couch and felt that clingy way you can be when you're exhausted, then did ra bliss and fell into a deep sleep. The Domestic Bliss wakened me up to go to the movies, which I'd agreed to do since it's cheap and I wasn't going to have any drugs or drink.
We never got in. So we went to see Transformers which seemed to star the captain of the Rangers Football team, or his wee brother. There's a bit at the end of this movie which is too long with too much shooty shooty and too many motor cars flying through the air. Being still exhausted, I closed my eyes for a moment or two.
A lot of funny stuff happens in your body when you're doing the vajrayana. It's not even the body that a flatheid would recognise, but a lot of funny stuff happens in there anyway. Maybe that was making me exhausted, I thought. Some weird shit going on that exhausts you. Good and bad stuff can happen, the boy says.
I thought it was worth it. It's so amazingly wonderful to be doing this vajrayana juju that almost anything is. So you get a bit tired as well. Overtired. Your guitar string is too tight. Well, a few beers, and tomorrow I'll still moida da bums!
With acknowledgements to the digger who's name I couldn't find on google on Saturday morning, I thought of this. This is maybe why I've never tried to write poetry....
As I rode into Ballarat
I met a man whose heid was flat
When I asked him if he could be told
He said those hills are just as old as yonder plains
And that was that!
Friday, 17 August 2007
Ra Journey!
Friday 5:55 p.m.
The train journey to Bellshill takes about an hour and a half. I've got my eyes closed almost all the way. There's a kind of timelessness in this kind of bliss. I did the elemental collapse that the Tibetans say occurs after you've died. The mirage, clouds, etc. Then you're left with the dharmakaya. Ground zero. I think this must be the clear light mind.
"When we can see, straightforwardly and non-conceptually, the nature of our clear light mind and remain forever absorbed in that nature without ever having to regress from it, we have become a buddha." Dalai Lama. The Wall.
The deity yoga juju is just a skillful means to help you on your road.
Mind is described in this tradition as like space except with the ability to know; cognizing. It is also without characteristics, containing everything and obstructing nothing.
You maybe can have as many heavens and hells as you can think of then. They arise in mind, abide in mind and decline in mind.
But they're not really there, Hotboy. I know, Jack. They're not really there. But we're not really here, not the way we think we are anyway. Like the moon's reflection on water. Like images seen in a dream; thus must we regard all things.
I'd like to be able to explain a heaven to my auld maw that I could be convincing about.
Sitting meditating while listening to the Dharmapada with my auld maw is becoming a hightlight of my week. I latched onto it today when the buddha told me to stay away from flatheids. " ... free from bias and radiant, he will become cool even in this life."
My auntie Kathy says my auld maw is less crabbit after she's been meditating. My auntie Kathy might think listening to the CD with me is meditating, and she might be right.
So I had a wee bit of an insight into emptiness while travelling to Bellshill today. And I had a good idea about how to deal with the conversation Jacob Merryweather has with God in The Real McCoy for when I can find the time to start the re-write. Felt very enthusiastic about the re-write afterwards. How can I find the time while I'm stuck in this jobbie? I'd rather meditate of course. But I might have to write something that I can sell so I can give up the jobbie. Hmmm?
The new electronic signboard on Bellshill station platform still says: Welcome to Bellshill. It's never said anything else. The digital time thing on it was seven hours out today as usual. When did school teachers start running the railways?
The train journey to Bellshill takes about an hour and a half. I've got my eyes closed almost all the way. There's a kind of timelessness in this kind of bliss. I did the elemental collapse that the Tibetans say occurs after you've died. The mirage, clouds, etc. Then you're left with the dharmakaya. Ground zero. I think this must be the clear light mind.
"When we can see, straightforwardly and non-conceptually, the nature of our clear light mind and remain forever absorbed in that nature without ever having to regress from it, we have become a buddha." Dalai Lama. The Wall.
The deity yoga juju is just a skillful means to help you on your road.
Mind is described in this tradition as like space except with the ability to know; cognizing. It is also without characteristics, containing everything and obstructing nothing.
You maybe can have as many heavens and hells as you can think of then. They arise in mind, abide in mind and decline in mind.
But they're not really there, Hotboy. I know, Jack. They're not really there. But we're not really here, not the way we think we are anyway. Like the moon's reflection on water. Like images seen in a dream; thus must we regard all things.
I'd like to be able to explain a heaven to my auld maw that I could be convincing about.
Sitting meditating while listening to the Dharmapada with my auld maw is becoming a hightlight of my week. I latched onto it today when the buddha told me to stay away from flatheids. " ... free from bias and radiant, he will become cool even in this life."
My auntie Kathy says my auld maw is less crabbit after she's been meditating. My auntie Kathy might think listening to the CD with me is meditating, and she might be right.
So I had a wee bit of an insight into emptiness while travelling to Bellshill today. And I had a good idea about how to deal with the conversation Jacob Merryweather has with God in The Real McCoy for when I can find the time to start the re-write. Felt very enthusiastic about the re-write afterwards. How can I find the time while I'm stuck in this jobbie? I'd rather meditate of course. But I might have to write something that I can sell so I can give up the jobbie. Hmmm?
The new electronic signboard on Bellshill station platform still says: Welcome to Bellshill. It's never said anything else. The digital time thing on it was seven hours out today as usual. When did school teachers start running the railways?
Thursday, 16 August 2007
Ra Reclamation!
Thursday 6 p.m.
I'm just back from the allotment and what a fabulous time was had by all! When I was meditating in the hut, I didn't know how long I was meditating for and didn't care. I was just using a mantra sometimes, and sometimes not. My eyes were closed and I was hardly breathing at all. What a stupendous amount of ra bliss there was! And there was no crabbitness at all!
I slept for a bit, just lying there on the not too tidy floor of the hut, then meditated again in the great oodles of ra bliss. That's more like it! It was as good as the meditations at the Samye Ling. At least as good. Yippee!!
So I have now recovered from the visit of the flatheids last weekend and the going back to the jobbie after six weeks off.
Apart from the hangover, going back to the jobbie was even more difficult due to seeing the faint glimmer of an escape route in the far distance. My literary agent said there was a wee publisher interested in the novel. This was out of the blue and just when I'd about given up on it. It came from the business he did at the London Book Fair. The wee publisher's external reader apparently thought the book was "fantastic," whatever that means. Anyway, I was stupidly hoping that I might hear something positive about that before going back to the jobbie, but there's been no news. I know it's even ridiculous to be bothered. A small independent publisher probably means a small lot of money anyway. Still...
I was so out of sorts on Tuesday and Wednesday, I read a novel, or finished one. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. The descriptions of the subsidiary characters by R.L.S. are just completely brilliant. Most of them are complete basturns as well, and almost all of them drunkards. I'm going to have to read Treasure Island again.
This evening I shall have a dinner of tatties, onions and fried eggs. I shall shadow box and have a wonderful bath, and start reading The Real McCoy; and when the day grows dark, boy, will I have me a meditation! What a fortunate, fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
10:40 p.m.
Since I broke off for lunch, this has been a really great day. Everything has gone so well. I've managed to do about eight hours meditating and the day isn't finished yet. Ra bliss this evening before and after the shadowboxing was just wonderful, wonderful, wonderful! I didn't manage to find the time to start reading The Real McCoy, but c'est la vie. I'm sober and straight and happy. If I can have a Sunday like this, even the jobbie will be a delight! May all sentient beings be happy and night, night from RaBadBoyBLissheid!
I'm just back from the allotment and what a fabulous time was had by all! When I was meditating in the hut, I didn't know how long I was meditating for and didn't care. I was just using a mantra sometimes, and sometimes not. My eyes were closed and I was hardly breathing at all. What a stupendous amount of ra bliss there was! And there was no crabbitness at all!
I slept for a bit, just lying there on the not too tidy floor of the hut, then meditated again in the great oodles of ra bliss. That's more like it! It was as good as the meditations at the Samye Ling. At least as good. Yippee!!
So I have now recovered from the visit of the flatheids last weekend and the going back to the jobbie after six weeks off.
Apart from the hangover, going back to the jobbie was even more difficult due to seeing the faint glimmer of an escape route in the far distance. My literary agent said there was a wee publisher interested in the novel. This was out of the blue and just when I'd about given up on it. It came from the business he did at the London Book Fair. The wee publisher's external reader apparently thought the book was "fantastic," whatever that means. Anyway, I was stupidly hoping that I might hear something positive about that before going back to the jobbie, but there's been no news. I know it's even ridiculous to be bothered. A small independent publisher probably means a small lot of money anyway. Still...
I was so out of sorts on Tuesday and Wednesday, I read a novel, or finished one. Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson. The descriptions of the subsidiary characters by R.L.S. are just completely brilliant. Most of them are complete basturns as well, and almost all of them drunkards. I'm going to have to read Treasure Island again.
This evening I shall have a dinner of tatties, onions and fried eggs. I shall shadow box and have a wonderful bath, and start reading The Real McCoy; and when the day grows dark, boy, will I have me a meditation! What a fortunate, fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
10:40 p.m.
Since I broke off for lunch, this has been a really great day. Everything has gone so well. I've managed to do about eight hours meditating and the day isn't finished yet. Ra bliss this evening before and after the shadowboxing was just wonderful, wonderful, wonderful! I didn't manage to find the time to start reading The Real McCoy, but c'est la vie. I'm sober and straight and happy. If I can have a Sunday like this, even the jobbie will be a delight! May all sentient beings be happy and night, night from RaBadBoyBLissheid!
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!
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!
Wednesday, 15 August 2007
Rah want to be alone!
4:10 p.m.
Being Wednesday afternoon,and the start of my weekend, I had to check the state of mind as I left the jobbie today. Really tired and crabbit, and not good at all.
I put some elastoplast on the fractured mind by doing two hours in the lobby. This reminded me of ra bliss, and ra heat, and ra rapture, which I will surely experience to an even greater extent tomorrow. For tomorrow is mine, all mine! Tomorrow the Domestic Bliss goes out in the evening and I don't have to see anyone all day. Flatheids work on the Thursday and they never bother you then. What a wonderful prospect!
By looking out the window I can see that the skies might open and great droplets of rain fall to the earth any minute. Time to get the rowing boat out, Jack! Row for the allotment and, if it doesn't rain, set fire to newspapers and stare into the flames!
God preserve us from the flatheids, lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from the demon drink, and any decent drugs, amen!
Being Wednesday afternoon,and the start of my weekend, I had to check the state of mind as I left the jobbie today. Really tired and crabbit, and not good at all.
I put some elastoplast on the fractured mind by doing two hours in the lobby. This reminded me of ra bliss, and ra heat, and ra rapture, which I will surely experience to an even greater extent tomorrow. For tomorrow is mine, all mine! Tomorrow the Domestic Bliss goes out in the evening and I don't have to see anyone all day. Flatheids work on the Thursday and they never bother you then. What a wonderful prospect!
By looking out the window I can see that the skies might open and great droplets of rain fall to the earth any minute. Time to get the rowing boat out, Jack! Row for the allotment and, if it doesn't rain, set fire to newspapers and stare into the flames!
God preserve us from the flatheids, lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from the demon drink, and any decent drugs, amen!
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