Monday, November 27, 2017

out and beyond

Out beyond the whispering fierceness of old age -- out where parallel lines meet and the edges of a flat earth are unfurled -- there seems to be an unintended tenderness.

Think of it: No more pills, no more doctors, no more disconnect between what can be thought and what achieved ... and it's not as if some diaphanous hand had compelled it or were 'loving' or some such. It's just the way things are, perhaps. Like a dog wagging its tail -- of course it wags its tail... if wag its tail it does.

There -- doesn't that feel better?


  1. It's something to look forward too. In the meantime, the bathroom, where I happily resolved many biological issues, has become a battleground. Oh how I miss those good old days.

    1. you're still a young brain with a mind of master, what's left are only painful details of everyday life, my friend. Julianne da Costa Rosa (ex-Marcel0)i changed my email and lost contact,unfortunatly.

    2. That’s a nice way to put it. But why put lipstick on an old, decrepit dog when all it needs is a nice stew?

      Back to the point: We get old. We die. Sometime in between we might loose the ability to chew so all we can eat is stew or puréed chicken.

      In some recounting of the life of Siddhartha Gautama, it was said the Buddha in encouraging rigorous practice and deep self realization in this life, didn’t even hint at a hereafter, reincarnation, whatever. But, many of his followers couldn’t resist. The reasons were and still are numerous. For example “If I don’t make it to Buddhahood in this life was all that effort to refrain from evil, do good and meditate in vain?” The Buddha’s followers couldn’t avoid addressing such questions. Were their teaching based on insights gain in deep meditative states or simply meditative fantasies? Or, instead were these teachings metaphors or worse pacifiers? A cursory examination of certain fairly old Buddhist literature reveals either fertile and prolific imaginations or some interesting insights,

      My most favorite Zen Masters of the past didn’t die relaxing in a hot tub, they died on the cushion hopefully in samadhi but at least watching their breaths until the very last one. But I know this might be a bit of embellishment.

      May be Genkaku is cultivating a 21st Century American Death:
      “On a Lawn Chair, in the backyard. Imagining Old Yella by his side.” Much better than, say, besides a Code Blue Cart headed by an arrogant attending, or worse, at a computer on social media, or worse still watching “M.A.S.H.” reruns.

      Gate, Gate, Paragate, Parasamgate. Bodhi Svaha!

      One moment.

  2. Where are your death fantasies coming from?

    There are many ideas about life after death beginning but not ending with with nothing.

    Take one, the Buddhist notion of the Bardo. What if the notions about the Six Bardos are correct? Being ignorant unprepared one would be in for a very big surprise and likely suffer greatly.

    In the end I prefer to take an “I don’t know stance. This could happen and if it does then... But if the other thing happens, then ....” But fantasize about pleasantries? Hahahaha!