Thursday, 30 April 2009
I spoke to Shiva today. He was going on about being positive, about this buddhisty book that was saying something of the sort about positive activity. And one or two other things. So I decided it would be better to remember to be positive and stop being such a crabbit basturn, and get a grip.
So I decided I'd better start being positive and nurture my deep, dear friends instead of telling them to fung off. And take the jagged edge off things.
And the meditations this evening were wonderful. You remember that you can't recall sensations like these in all their fantastic glory. The words aren't the same as the experience. And then it seems like an apt justification for being alone, but as Shiva said there's something about friendliness leading to compassion leading to sympathic joy leading to equanimity. I'd like to turn Mr Hyde into a more positive emanation. Boom, Shiva!
Tuesday, 28 April 2009
I wakened up lying on the table face down and some dust was irritating my nose, so I looks round and can see the wall above the fireplace starting to move and crumble. There's something in there, in the chimney maybe. The wall continues to fall apart and there's definitely something trying to get out from behind the wall. I go over to the fireplace and I take out my mobile phone so I can take a picture. There's a big red dragon in there and smoke is coming out from what's left of the wall as I set the phone to camera and press. It says "Capture".
I captured the Nicotine Dragon inside my mobile phone and could look at it on the screen there. Then I pulled it out the back and by then it was well shrunk and kind of floppy and knackered. I was so pleased. I held it out and showed it around to everyone.
After that, you could see the most amazing things on the mobile phone screen. Fantastic things in brilliant detail as the mobile phone itself transformed and changed shape again and again. I was in a kind of restaurant/shop and I was going about showing these wonders to one and all. So happy! Then my hand was on fire, flames coming out of the palms and fingertips, but never burning me. I showed this to some joe and he tried to get away since he was scared. I followed him and scolded him for running away instead of helping me, but I was laughing and having such a great time. I realised that soon I would be able to control the fire element. I looked at my burning hand and thought how wonderful, completely wonderful this was.
Then, in the distance I could hear the alarm and realised I was dreaming and felt so disappointed. I was only dreaming, I thought. But it was a wonderful, wonderful dream. I don't remember ever feeling so good in a dream. Fabulously vivid as well!
What does that mean, Hotboy? It means I'm back, Jack! I'm back!
Sunday, 26 April 2009
I took the photie of the dying daffodils sitting outside the hut tonight about eight o clock.
Nothing lasts. This is just as well because regular readers of this bloggy (Hello, Jack the Spam Robot!) might have noticed that I've been having not such a nice time in the week since I stopped dancing the dance of death with the Nicotine Dragon. The next time I see any bob hope I am definitely not not not not smoking it with tobacco!
I thought I should post this evening because tomorrow we're supposed to be changing internet providers and getting broadband at last. This probably means that there won't be an internet connection at all for weeks and weeks and hurrah for that. I shouldn't blog so much.
So if I don't post for a while, it's not because I've topped myself! Certainly not. Bye bye, Nicotine Dragon. I think I win for now!
Saturday, 25 April 2009
I thought it would be better just to die. I have tried to stay away, but this lunchtime I met up with Froggy McDuck. He arrived in on Beef McDuck the night before, but Beef had been visited earlier by this joe who brought round two bottles of vodka. Two bottles of vodka. Froggy was okay at lunchtime today, but his wee brother Skinny was paralysed with the drinking from last night, and could not articulate properly ..... dearie me! At twelve o clock.
Some times this week I have thought that I would like to be dead and that this life is a worthless ....
The Dakini sailed into the room and said:
Did I not tell you, Hotboy, that if you smoked the dope with tobacco that you would go to hell?
As the thoughts arise, abide, and decline ... you did tell me that if I did this, that would happen. And I am sorry. And I wish I had been good. But there is not point in saying that now that I am in hell. And I hate it. And I would like to kill everybody. And most particularly I would like to stop writing this blog.
You can stop writing this blog any time you like, Hotboy, because in the blogosphere there are a great many blogs and being a narcissist and a voyeur is not unusual, but this blog might be doing some good for somebody, or at least somebody might read it.
And what would they learn if they read it, Dakini?
They will learn that I love you, Hotboy. That I will embrace you and cleave to you, and hold you close while warning off the evil entities in all the ten directions and in the three times with my angry demeanour and my various accoutrements. Do not think you are on your own, Hotboy. You may be depressed due to doing this and that arising, but you are never alone. I am the Hotgirl Madyamika and I can surf the Oceans of Bliss, and I will always love you, and I will never leave you. So do not worry. You are my heart. You are moi! I will never leave you. I will always be with you. You are my Hotboy and I am your Dakini. I will drag you out of hell.
What do you think of that, Jack? A fortunate creature you are, Hotboy. Far more fortunate that you deserve. Not many folk get the bliss. Almost nobody has a Dakini. What a fortunate creature you are, you are! What a fortunate creature you are!
Friday, 24 April 2009
I'm not so sure what the grand ennui means. I think if you're with the Ancient Mariner and somebody's shot the albatross, and it's kind of too hot, becalmed, and there's bugger all to do except wait ... I think that might be the grand ennui.
I did enjoy smoking the ounce with the tobacco though! Unfortunately, I do not think I have enjoyed anything in samsara since. I drank another bottle of wine tonight. Blossom Hill, I think. 13.5%. Ernest Hemingway was right. You can't get drunk on white wine. Not one bottle over a couple of hours. On your own. Dearie me!
As part of my attempt to be more normal, I began reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy. The beginning isn't as good as it should be. He's scared the shit out of his editors. Same old, same old.
As part of my attempt to be more normal, I've been trying to write a book. Had two good ideas popping in during my meditations this evening in the lobby. I suppose if it hadn't been that which popped in, something else would have. I wouldn't mind dying through the night. I suspect that might be far more interesting than anything else that's liable to be going on.
Since I am not, and will not, be in retreat, I think it's time I changed my life. Be positive. Maybe go and make some money! Having some money! What a change that would be!
Thursday, 23 April 2009
I did a two hour sit this morning. It starts more or less with the bliss and then everything seems to open up into deeper and deeper bliss. I didn't feel particularly sharp (four bottles of Erdinger last night!), but I didn't want to get up either. The part where you start to raise the focus up the chakras till you get to the brain chakra .... well, that was phenomenal!
Otherwise, I'm feeling a bit scunnered. I wish I could meditate all day now, but I have to get on my bike and go visit the hospital. The Domestic Bliss left me three quid in case I needed to get a bus because of the rain. How pathetic can you get! I'll have to hit the credit card anyway before I get paid since Froggy McDuck is arriving in town on Friday. Dearie me!
Just as I feel as if I've had samsara up to here, suddenly there are social engagements everywhere. Fung it!
Totally cheered up by the cycling and the visit with our friend with the MS. She's always so cheerful. Now I'm going to soak in a bliss bath for hours ... and hours ... and hours!
Sometimes I get a sore head from, I think, dehyration due to the physical jerks. It's in abeyance as a rule, but it does not like vase breathing at all. Mad cycling today. Just don't know how to dress for that. Thirsty for ages afterwards. Abandoned the meditations after an hour and a half sit this evening and hit the poverty for a Dry Muscat weighing in at 13% and from South Eastern Australia.
It's been a crap week. Well, the Dakini told me that if I smoked the ounce I would go to hell. It's not really been hell, but a bit disagreeable when I wasn't meditating. Actually, it's been crap! Except for ....
The kiddo finishes art college this June. The Worshipful Company of Glaziers and Glass Painters have just given her a year's scholarship to help her become a worker in that field. She had to take some pieces to show the interviewers in London and one of them bought a piece for £350. That might be the first thing she's sold. I should have bought it first, but I don't have any money! But I do have a daughter. So that's been good!
Wednesday, 22 April 2009
Wednesday 8:50 p.m.
Today I finished the planting and the diggings and now all I have to do is keep the grass verges cut and watch the weeds grow. Life can now return to normal.
I've resolved to start writing again. Really, I haven't written much since last summer, but the jobbie is such a bore .... when you're writing you can hope that it may end soon. Or sometime. The Dom Bliss keeps saying I should write a play, but my secret agent can't sell a play. Unfortunately, I don't think the crime book idea is going to stretch to book length. Once I thought that if I wrote a book with tons of sex in it, I could get published, and I did.
On the other hand, I don't think I'm going to get an idea as good as the one central to xxxTheRealMcCoyxxx anytime soon, but you never know with ideas. If you just work away, the ideas will arise. Hmmm? Never tell anyone you're a writer. They'll ask you where do you get your ideas from.
Where do you get your ideas from, Hotboy? I haven't had a good idea for twenty years, Jack. How should I know?
With the diggings over and normal life returning, I can do stuff besides digging. I can cycle. I'll be cycling up the Kirk Brae tomorrow afternoon since our friend with the MS is in respite care again. (How dare I complain about anything?!) I'll be cycling up the Kirk Brae on Saturday afternoon as well. On Sunday Brian Wilson has threatened to go running with moi. I could get him to make a will beforehand.
The meditations are still becoming more and more .... the nicotine withdrawals have been far less horrible than I imagined, ameliorated a little by bottles of Erdinger. By next Monday I'm expecting to feel ... beaming bliss!
Of course, they will pass away and I will be left on my own. By then I hope I can go and sit up by the National Gallery steps in Princes Street. There are banked steps there. Columns. You might have some kind of shelter just by the way the buildings are configurated. You could move round when the wind changes.
When flatheids try to give me change, I'd like to tell them to fung off. Or fish suppers. Or anything. Being warm and blissful in the open air in Chilly Jockoland would be a fantastic achievement. Eventually, some mad basturns would come and sit with you. Homeless folk. Junkies. The folk who can sit the longest decide the level we are going to be at. You sit on the carpet with some determinination and, after a while, everyone is sitting on the carpet.
Mr Hyde has been a bad, bad boy recently. Dr Jekyll should just laugh at that. What meditations when we can find the quiet place to wait and sit in!
And tomorrow I do not have to go to the jobbie! What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!
Monday, 20 April 2009
Monday 8:00 p.m.
The photie is of one half of the allotment at the end of the spring digging. So I've dug twice this size in the last wee while, apart from the strawberry patch which is at the bit where you can see the white window box on the toppish right. The dark bit on the photie is the wee bit I dug today, a much bigger bit than usual.
It only took just under two hours, Jack, and has made me totally knackered. I'd like to take my hat off to anyone who has to make a living doing manual labour.
No nicotine for two days now and no bother really. But I'm going to get pissed tonight. Back to the jobbie tomorrow. Though I haven't been off like the school teachers, I've had a good rest (and a good smoke!) and right now I can't remember why speaking to young people should be such a pain in the butt sometimes. Like tomorrow! Get me out of there, God! Get me to fung out of there!
Saturday, 18 April 2009
Do you love me, Hotboy? I don't think I have loved anyone more than I have loved you, Nicotine Dragon.
Do you know anyone whom I have dispatched, Hotboy? Yea, you have dispatched at least three of my deep dear friends, Nicotine Dragon. Do I frighten you, Hotboy?
You are my heart. You are moi! You are so me. You have taught me everything about lying, and about the stupidity of thoughts, Nicotine Dragon. What can I say, except thank you very much.
Are you going to kill me tomorrow, Hotboy?
In all the aeons and in all the kalpas have I not spoken to you, Nicotine Dragon, and have I not told you in all these times that I would kill you? And have I killed you yet?
But we will fight the great fight tomorrow. You and I. So what have you got on your side?
I have thoughts, Hotboy. All those wonderful lying thoughts. And what do you have on your side?
I have all the catholic saints. I have all the hindu saints. I have all the jain saints. I have all the Sikh saints. I have all the saints. I have them from the beginning, and the middle, and the end ... I have that pouring into me. Tilopa, Naropa, Marpa, Milarepa, Gampopa.
And, lo!, at the mention of the Tibetan saints, the Dakini surfed down from the buddhafield and said: Hello, Hotboy!
I told you that if you smoked the ounce with tobacco that you would go to hell. You start going to hell tomorrow.
This is going to be a bad time, Dakini!
Remember the bliss! Remember that hell doesn't last forever. Probably till about seven o clock at night. Hell changes. It changes.
Madden, the boy might have been called. As good a bit of acting as I've ever seen. Tonight at the Traverse. Play of a book. Why bother? Brilliant performances though!
Friday, 17 April 2009
Saturday 00:36 a.m.
This is a photie of the Queen at the Lyceum Theatre. She's the one slap bang in the middle. I took this photie because that's where I was sitting this evening watching Copenhagen, a play by Michael Frayn. Perfect spot. The photie is a photie at the back of the box. There are proper chairs in the box and you can close your eyes and meditate the best one of the day. Still listening to the play which could have been done on radio. An excellent two hours. Also, there en famille. We can talk about the drama, so we can.
"When we can see, straightforwardly and non-conceptually, the nature of our clear light mind and remain totally absorbed in this nature without ever regressing from it, we have become a Buddha." D. Lama. The Wall.
If everything, as it surely does, arises in mind, abides in mind and declines in mind, then everything must be a thought of some kind. As you move inexorably towards perfection, as we surely do, then there must be a perfect thought. So is being absorbed in the clear light mind perfection? Is the clear light mind ecstasy? Breathless, without conceptualisation?
Since I've had three bottles of wonderful German bottled lager, I'd now like to sing yous all a little song!
God save our gracious Queen! Long may she serve ice cream. And candy floss. We are victorious! Half a loaf between the four of us! Thank God there's no more of us! God save the Queen!
Up the republic!
Friday 5:42 p.m.
Apart from the meditations, not in the best form today due to the nicotine withdrawals. I'm going to have a joint right after I write this which will ensure nicotine .... anyway, I pass this bush on the way to the allotment. Nothing but red blossoms. No idea what it is as usual.
My Auntie Kathy was telling me about serving Peter Manuel a beer in Biggins's bar up Mossend when she used to work there. Peter Manuel killed maybe 13 of 15 people around about Lanarkshire and was hung in 1958. When he was in Biggins's this time, he was wearing a blue Barrathea (had to look that up!) jacket and had a watch and chain to go with it. She knew him when he used to do the bins in another place where she worked. His maw and da seemed to be nice catholic folk from down Viewpark way, I think.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
Thursday 8:35 p.m.
I think the photie on the left was taken less than two months ago.
There are now nine beds of onion, I think, and seven rows of tatties. Also, there's a patch dug out for brassica which I murdered myself doing today.
I'm just going to light a joint. I haven't had any tobacco today, but I must admit that the nicotine dragon has me this time! After six years off, I have to admit that I now have a substantial problem. Dearie me!
Yesterday, I'd meditated for a couple of hours before I bought the fags at one. Thereafter, joint then meditate, etc., all day. Tried to go to the diggings at five, but the weather was foggy, cold and getting wet. I must have meditated about seven times yesterday and every one was better than the one before until the last one when I was probably a bit too stoned.
Sometimes I've wondered if the meditation in the afternoon were as useful as other ones, but yesterday they just kept getting stronger and stronger.
St Teresa of Avila says there are five "mansions" in the Interior Castle and you move through them, it seems, at least if you're her. Yesterday, it felt almost as if I was moving through them a meditation at a time. Of course, in Teresa's schema I'm probably not at three yet!
Yesterday, I felt as if I was getting back on track after all the socialising I'd been doing. Was in the lobby or on the computer all day from one. Hurrah! I might post again later if I can think of something to say about the bliss.
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
I spent some time talking to Grizzly out the back of the auld maw's on Monday afternoon. My brother Grizzly is about ten or eleven years older than me. He was pointing out the one or two things going wrong with his body now that he is nearly seventy. When we talked about a good age to die at, I told him I fancied dying when I was about his age.
Grizzly has been a nature lover all his life. The birth, ageing, old age and death are things he's used to observing. So Grizzly says it's a big universe and he doesn't feel any more important in it than the daffodil that was growing nearby. He says he doesn't go to church and isn't going to go because he feels no need to.
My brother Grizzly has a spontaneously joyful view. He loves talking away and laughs and smiles all the time. Through meditating, I would hope to become like that someday.
There is no difference between Grizzly and moi when it comes to a false sense of self. My false sense of self is as good as his false sense of self. I know stuff about non-self and emptiness, but I haven't in any way got rid of my false sense of self. I am no further away from the suffering really if suffering is caused by desire based on ignorance of your own true self.
Of course, it's a shame that Grizzly has had no experience of the bliss. There's really no point in going on about bliss to someone like Grizzly because like most flatheids he's never going to meditate.
I've been very sociable for me over the last couple of weeks. All my family and deep dear friends seem to be well enough and happy enough. Most of them behave better than I do and are very nice people.
So it might be time for me personally to stop emphasising the suffering inherent in human existence and to stop worrying about the flatheids. Or, the other flatheids!
What do you think, Jack? They're still flatheids, Hotboy. So am I, Jack! You might not be quite so flatheided and you get the bliss. What a fortunate creature you are, Hotboy! What a fortunate creature you are!
Monday, 13 April 2009
On Sunday, I bought fags in Newmains. Nervous. I'd taken the bob hope with me. So I had an excuse almost.
I sat in the big garden of a one time manse. I'd had a couple of joints before I sat down under the giant birch tree. But when I'd closed my eyes on the way there ... well, Jack, what can I say about the bliss? The thing was ... after a while, I got up and paced the lovely dark Lanarkshire garden and then, before I sat down again, I did a dog pose. From the night before and the race to get up and ready (I don't want to do that anymore. I need at least an hour and a half of meditating before I can speak to anyone!), I had not done much stretching. The dog pose. (Warning: most blisses in these bloggies are with the eyes closed. I do not know why that should be.)
Before there was the bliss which was manifest when you were sitting upright. Then there was the bath bliss, the bliss, Oh, ra bliss, ra bliss, ra bliss, as you succumbed to the exhaustion and the wonderments. This led onto the savasana bliss, which might have something to do with yoga nidra, but since I fall asleep, it can't be yoga nidra yet.
I forgot to mention the sitting up from leaning down bliss. This was the most wonderful bliss when it appeared ... in the Meadows manifest, I think, on a summer's day spent supporting getting rid of poverty... we all surely wish ... because that day I knew that I was no longer normal. The leaning forwards then straightening up bliss is a wonderful gift ...
Hotboy, why is it you do not get this kind of stuff all the time? Well, Jack, I think it must be that my head is so stuck up my backside most of the time that I am distracted such and cannot truly remember how it felt like to be in such bliss. And this thought or feeling of bliss cannot ever be permanent or perfect, or grasped forever. Not in any way yet. So I do not get the wonderful stuff all the time.
The dog pose. The most wonderful yoga teacher parted my testicles once whilst I was in a dog pose ... by an inadvertent sweep of her palms. The dog pose bliss.
These are all examples of getting this envelope thing on and scintillating ...or rather it coming on by some means beyond our ken and being radiant and gleaming like the light swords!
There's also been the bliss whilst lying on one's side. Also, fabulous tadasana bliss the other day. Elevated by the current.
I said to the auld maw: 1919 is an awful long time ago, maw. Aye, says she, so it is. We are a family of few words.
It was the auld maw's ninteith, nintieth, ninete ... nine decades old birthday today. That's an awful long time to be alive.
As soon as I start seeing the heavenly visions, I know it'll be time to go, Jack. You might have to go a long time before that, Hotboy. Lordy! Lordy! Take me now! Tale me now!
I must say it is a real shame that everyone doesn't get the bliss. It's not fair, neither it is.
Saturday, 11 April 2009
The Dakini surfed down a sunbeam and showed up in the kitchen not looking all that pleased with me. She said: How many oceans of tears do you want to shed, Hotboy, before you find a middle way between what is agreeable and what is disagreeable?
Sometimes we should be filled with shame and embarrassment. The dakinis dance about, but they are also full of wisdom, which is a total bummer.
I have to say, Dakini, that in all the aeons of time in which we have conversed, you and I, that the tears I have wept through not finding the middle way between what is agreeable and what is disagreeable would fill a great many oceans, but have you got any bob hope with you?
And, verily, Hotboy, I do have the bob hope with me and enough so that you can plan your future between the agreeable and the disagreeable. Verily, if you smoke this ounce with tobacco, you will go to hell!
Do you mean that I might get a bit of a bad cough?
No, hell. Mostly disagreeable. Not much which could be said to be agreeable.
Hmmm? Had to have a bit of a think about that one.
Poisonous came over to discuss this with me today... the middle way between the agreeable and the disagreeable, the repercussions of doing bad things in the context of arising thought frames and the kinds of thought you might have as a result ... and I realised that all the folk I have met with over the past couple of weeks have been most agreeable and almost none of them disagreeable.
We don't have to worry about the flatheids, do we, Jack? No, Hotboy, the flatheids are okay. They are so okay they don't even know they're flatheids.
After smoking more joints and mulling over phenomenology with Poisonous, I threw the tobacco down the toilet. Lo, the dakini appeared once more. Well done, Hotboy, for first of all pouring the home brewed beer barrel down the toilet and now for throwing the rest of the fags down the toilet! Go out and buy yourself four bottles of Erdinger for this is the middle way right now between what it agreeable and what is disagreeable and the results thereof!
Will I get to go to heaven soon, Jack? You never know, Hotboy. You never know.
Thursday, 9 April 2009
Thursday 10:34 p.m.
The kiddo asked me to go to the Wasp gallery off Hamilton Place to see these Begging Buddhas. Korean glass artist. Can't remember his name of course!
I started meditating today around ten in the morning and probably put in five or six hours before going to the Begging Buddhas. Back home, I did nearly ten minutes skipping then twenty of Mr Iyengar's yogic jumpings, and then did my six three minute rounds of shadow boxing in the full Beer Monster Reduction Vehicle. Buggered by the fourth, Jack! The doctor had a look during the fifth. Don't remember the sixth.
First thing I know I'm doing the bliss in the bath and feeling very smug because I did not eat any bob hope beforehand. Anyone who has read this bloggy for a while (Hello, Jack!) will know that one of my favourite, favourite things is soaking the exhausted body in the bliss bath with bob hope arousals for desert. I wanted to get in another meditation before succumbing to the bob hope. And, yea, it was a mighty one, full of the whitest, deepest bliss and so still.
Then I ate a bit of dope. I'll go away to the lobby and await events.
Wednesday, 8 April 2009
Wednesday 6:56 p.m.
The flowers were growing beside the path. Do idea what they are. The allotment photie was taken just after four. You can see leaves start to come on the trees.I dug from just after four till half five. Dearie me!
I get into trouble in the non-meditation times due to being me, but the meditations after work today were just fabulous. I have to try and remember that sometimes when there are difficulties I have caused myself to have. Thoughts, Jack. Lying basturns every one!
It's a miserable day out there. When I stepped onto the wet pavement this morning, I realised my boots were leaking and almost phoned in sick. It doesn't take much, Jack! I'm here at the jobbie anyway. I don't like being here. Nobody else is here.
The London Book Fair is at the end of this month. Once I wondered if one day someone would take a book of mine to the Frankfort Book Fair. And they did. But they didn't sell it. Somehow I didn't expect that. But the one in London is on soon and you never know.
I thought I was going to take a real spanking from the nicotine withdrawals this week after seven days on the joints, but it's been not too bad. I haven't gone out looking for small furry animals to torture or attacked anyone. I drank beer over the last two nights, but I might have done that anyway. Still, not a good state of mind really. Doomed.
I wasn't expecting there to be no soapbar for the first three months of this year. It's been unsettling. If some arrives this evening, I'm not going to drink until it runs out again!
It's been a crap couple of days, but I'm going home now. Yes, I'm going home!
Monday, 6 April 2009
Scunnered is an interesting word. Sometimes I felt a wee bit scunnered today. Not such a bad day for nicotine withdrawals, just sometimes feeling a bit scunnered. No bob hope, no release.
So what of thoughts, Jack? All we have is thoughts. Be nice to get better ones. How does one get to the point where one can have thoughts without even a little measure of scunneration?
How's about the arrival of the perfect thought, the perfect beatitude? How long is it possible to sustain the perfect thought for?
The bliss obviously involves feeling. How can you make feelings constant? How can you get them to be perfect? Is it possible? Perfected feelings, or thought?
If it changes, I don't see how it can stay perfect.
Maybe we are just funged by being human beings.
Are we stuck with the variations, Jack? The variations between good and bad, the agreeable versus the disagreeable ... yes, we may be stuck with them. I'm not saying everyone is stuck with them, but it appears that without constant happiness we are stuck with them, you and I, Jack.
Are you telling me, Hotboy, that there will never be a point of satiation, the perfect pitch between the agreeable and the disagreeable, for as long as we will live? Yes, Jack! It looks like that to moi! There is no perfect sustainable point between the agreeable and the disagreeable, it is all variation.
And so we must choose a different path, and not hope that by meditating your socks off for ever that you can attain other than the great oceans of bliss. Because in your face, the basturns are still out there, and so are the untamed thoughts, and feelings, and all the multitudes of things ... I'd like to stop being a human being! When you're a kid it can be okay, and when you're young ... but just stopping it right now, that would be great.
Sunday, 5 April 2009
Sunday 5:45 p.m.
The photie was taken at 1:45 p.m. today.
There are nine beds of onion and four rows of tatties.
A long time ago, I thought it might be possible to be able to close your eyes and be almost immediately in bliss. This was my ambition. This was all that my juju was about then. No religion in that, Jack! Is there a road to the bliss? Today after sitting at the side of the allotment, I sank almost immediately into a vast wonderful ocean of bliss. It was just there very soon after I closed my eyes.
I'd like to stop right there for a moment and give myself a big round of applause! Hurah! Hurah! Hurah!
I'm happy with that. If I get an old age, that's going with me.
Then I went into the hut. So you've got the amazingly wonderful bliss and you might be able to just leave it there. No method, just the bliss. But you start in with the manglings of the medicine buddha sadhana. This is taking the result as the path. Usually, I'm trying and totally failing in do these visualisations, but as you've got some little potential idea of the medicine buddha failing to materialise, you might start thinking about the qualities. You are the medicine buddha. You are full of compassion and altruism, loving kindness, joy, bliss, healing and heat. You start to try to emanate that.
This was a first today. Trying to blast out the joy and compasion and all that felt completely brilliant!
After the men had fixed the window on Thursday, and I'd been to the dentist ... blah, busy, blah ... sometime later, I wondered if this was ignition. As in: Houston, we have ignition! You're supposed to be able to ignite the inner fire at some point. I was getting lovely tendril waves of heat rolling up my body apres the vase breath. And tomorrow I'll be chewing the carpets at my jobbie due to murderous nicotine withdrawals! Sometimes it's really hard work being as dumb as moi, Jack!
But no beer since last Satuday. I think I'll give myself another round of applause for that!
Thursday, 2 April 2009
No beers since the dakini visited moi, but dancing the dance of death with the nicotine dragon once more.
Forgot all that I've said about the bliss, Jack! We have surely reached a point where we must begin again to try to describe that which is difficult to describe.
Closed my eyes in the lobby about an hour and a half ago and, though I'd been a bit grumpy and wasting my time with stupid thoughts and joints, as soon as I closed my eyes, it was right there. It's opens, or you sink towards blissful states, or the sheath inflates. Immediately, it's quite intense. Full metal jacket. We're not in Kansas anymore, Jack!
Just sitting there while it gets stronger, better. It's very easy to breathe. The point of this juju is to have the flow of air up both nostrils go evenly, and that must be what's going on. It feels far easier to take a deep breath and hold it in this state. Shoot the breath! Wheeee! You're certainly not in Kansas anymore. You're not even on the same planet. There's fantastic potential for all kinds of wonderful feelings in here.
You start mangling some kind of medicine buddha sadhana. You're having to intimate the visualisations because you're nowhere near being able to do them, but it seems important that the thoughts flowing evenly and without jumping about and losing focus. This is very nice. Then ever now and again, you do a vase breath and ..... this is going to be a fantastic day! The phone rings.
A man is going to come round and fix the window. Why don't I get a gun and just shoot the basturns? Then someone sails in the door totally unexpectedly. It's Piccadilly Circus before you know it! Basturns, basturns, basturns.