Balance

Sunday 8:36 p.m.
Some of the comments on the bloggy over the last few posts have been quite helpful. Your inner child is playing with matches was a good one. The advice from the dyslexic spango yogini about not standing on your head kind of made me realise what I was doing wrong in a roundabout kind of way. And it has got to balance up somehow.

Serenity, equanimity, contentment and peace are maybe what you should hope will result from doing this juju. So these contrary forces have to balance up somehow. You have to trust yourself with this judgement. It's like playing the violin. You can't learn it from a book or just stick to what the book says. If it's not sounding right, it's not sounding right.

When people used to talk about energy in your body, forces, etc., I was most sceptical. Most of the folk who use this language haven't actually experienced these energies and forces, of course, but I'm experiencing something alright. And I can't keep it focused at the navel symbol because it's doing my head in and I need to let it come up.

But you haven't got the three channels properly visualised, Hotboy. Tsongkhapa says you're bound for hell. He was only joking, Jack.

I think the progression should be from the joe to the deity to clear light mind. The diety yoga juju is just a technique. It's the thoughtless voids of bliss you must be heading for.

So I'm going for the magnificent risings up to the middle of your brain and great bliss, dissolving into the bliss.

Then when you get distracted or lose your bliss, you just go back to being the deity juju and crank the bliss up again. Aye, it's a hard life, so it is. I have to go back to St Trinian's tomorrow.

I realise that a lot of folk reading this bloggy do not seem to be as fortunate as moi. And I'm very sorry about that because I didn't really do anything to warrant such a fortunate life. And I know that almost no one who reads this bloggy will ever get the bliss. Not even a little, teeny weeny experience of it. It's bloody awful, so it is!

But sometimes it's like being in primary school and teacher asks who, when they grew up, would like to investigate the bliss, and only moi, only moi put his hand up. It if wasn't for the grief, sorrow, lamentations ... delusions, disappointments and despair ... suffering in this life, it wouldn't really matter. Bugger that for a game of soldiers! I'd much rather just go off to the bliss. Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss!