St Augie!

Friday 9:40 p.m.
The photies were taken up the allotment on Wednesday afternoon. I started out with this mobile phone camera thingy taking that photie of the bare trees around February, I think. Anyway, bare again. For some reason the yellow on the marigold came out. Usually doesn't.

Interesting programme through the week about the History of Christianity on BBC Four, the free digital channel. The joe was going on about St Augustine. There's a school named after him in this city, so he's big with the tims.

St Augie invented Original Sin. This means that you are funged from the word go. No chance. Corrupt through your humanity per se, or through sexuality. The catholics have always had a problem with their naughty bits. St Paul, for instance, said it was okay to get married if you couldn't stand the torture. Anyway, to get out of the problems with Original Sin, which we got from Adam and Eve, you needed to be saved by God. God might save you and he might not.

Predestination, the boy said. This pissed me off. I thought only the stupid calvinists had that. Anyway, I have read a bit of the Confessions by St Augie, but now I'm going to have to read that and the City of God, so I can disparage him even more.

St Augie was obviously a flatheid. Who wants to hear anything about theology from some joe who is walking around with his head up his backside be he ever so prominent? I'm glad I can refute all this Original Sin crap. If you get rid of all the stupid lying thoughts from your mind, what you get down to eventually is ra bliss. Someday you might get down as far as the ecstasy without boundaries. I'm sure there are bits after that which I haven't reached yet, but so far I can affirm that we are not intrinsically bad or evil, but are totally wonderful and fantastic.

I've got more time for St Thomas Aquinas. He obviously had the big, big brain and he tried to think the big, big thoughts about God and such. He wrote a great many writings (which I haven't read!)about the proofs of God and whatnot. Then one fine day up at the altar in Notre Dame Cathedral, he had some kind of revelation or realisation. After that, he couldn't be bothered about the writings anymore. He said they were crap. Actually, he said they were "straw", which I think might be the polite, medieval froggy way of saying they were crap. He died soon after. What a guy! I take my hat off to such a joe as that!

The guy who poisoned Milarepa was a scholar. Milarepa wasn't. I don't think there would me much point in hassling my root guru (if I ever spoke to him!) about the sutras. You don't have to know much to sit. You should know what emptiness means maybe. That might help. Otherwise, the practise doesn't have to be at all intellectual.

I walked passed a joe yesterday on George Street who had no recognisable face. There were eyes and purple balloonings and no features at all really. We instinctively withdraw from weirdness like that. It's a way to get away from disease. I had a problem when I was a catholic with the concept of a beneficent deity. Dearie, dearie me! But it's okay from moi, Jack! What a fortunate creature I am, I am! What a fortunate creature I am!