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Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Bad medicine
Your thin end for today:
It's rat-poison day. I feel shittier than the shittiest shitty thing you can think of.
I'm sure a rat-trap would be far more expedient. No, really.
This has major coolness.
Autobiography in five chapters
Chapter 1
I walk down the street
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost.
I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
Chapter 2
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I dont see it.
I fall in again.
I cant believe I am in this same place again.
It isnt my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
Chapter 3
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I fall in..it is a habit.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
Chapter 4
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
Chapter 5
I walk down a different street.
Portia Nelson
From: Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying
I'm definitely walking down a different street next time. I'm getting better at picking the holes.
Or I am picking better holes. Whatever.
|
It's rat-poison day. I feel shittier than the shittiest shitty thing you can think of.
I'm sure a rat-trap would be far more expedient. No, really.
This has major coolness.
Autobiography in five chapters
Chapter 1
I walk down the street
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost.
I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
Chapter 2
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I dont see it.
I fall in again.
I cant believe I am in this same place again.
It isnt my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
Chapter 3
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I fall in..it is a habit.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
Chapter 4
I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
Chapter 5
I walk down a different street.
Portia Nelson
From: Sogyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying
I'm definitely walking down a different street next time. I'm getting better at picking the holes.
Or I am picking better holes. Whatever.
|
Monday, April 26, 2004
On being dogmatic 
Your thin end for today:
Someone's Karma ran over my dogma. No shit it did :-)
Karma is one of those things that people in our general culture and society make (sometimes uneasy) jokes about, talk about as something external, consider to be a fact of existence that will only happen to others and frequently dismiss as something that they, personally have no control over. Wouldn't it be nice if that was all true? Shame none of it is :-(
Karma does, of course, depend on a belief in past lives, and therefore future lives as well. Cats are lucky, they get to have 9 of them at once, I guess that's a cat-karma where they don't actually have to actually die 5 times to learn that running in front of a car is a really bad idea. Someone should teach my dog that, stupid bitch that she is. Nushie tried catching cars on the road with her muzzle once, the vet reckons the only reason she has a face left is because she is a shar pei and all the extra padding and wrinkles absorbed the shock. She's a very wrinkly bitch. The rest of her is a bit like that, too.
Anyway, for the sake of debate (not debacle, thanks) let's simply assume that Karma is real, we all have some, some is good and some is bad and that cats are not included in this conversation. Let us also assume that we all have had lifetimes where we are good people doing Good Works and lifetimes where we are monsters capable of all sorts of heinous activities and acts. Let's assume that sometimes we have been male, sometimes we have been female and that in this present incarnation we are likely to meet more than one person who has crossed (and been crossed by) our Path sometime back in the annals of antiquity.
This site HERE has some really interesting info on it. Go Google "karma" sometime for more indepth articles and variations on the theme.
Anyway, as I was saying when I so rudely interruped myself...
I hope I'm racking up heaps and heaps of good stuff this time, I feel like a nice, long holiday somewhere quiet...
So, anyway, who WAS the mongrel that ran over my dog and didn't stop, huh?
|
Someone's Karma ran over my dogma. No shit it did :-)
Karma is one of those things that people in our general culture and society make (sometimes uneasy) jokes about, talk about as something external, consider to be a fact of existence that will only happen to others and frequently dismiss as something that they, personally have no control over. Wouldn't it be nice if that was all true? Shame none of it is :-(
Karma does, of course, depend on a belief in past lives, and therefore future lives as well. Cats are lucky, they get to have 9 of them at once, I guess that's a cat-karma where they don't actually have to actually die 5 times to learn that running in front of a car is a really bad idea. Someone should teach my dog that, stupid bitch that she is. Nushie tried catching cars on the road with her muzzle once, the vet reckons the only reason she has a face left is because she is a shar pei and all the extra padding and wrinkles absorbed the shock. She's a very wrinkly bitch. The rest of her is a bit like that, too.
Anyway, for the sake of debate (not debacle, thanks) let's simply assume that Karma is real, we all have some, some is good and some is bad and that cats are not included in this conversation. Let us also assume that we all have had lifetimes where we are good people doing Good Works and lifetimes where we are monsters capable of all sorts of heinous activities and acts. Let's assume that sometimes we have been male, sometimes we have been female and that in this present incarnation we are likely to meet more than one person who has crossed (and been crossed by) our Path sometime back in the annals of antiquity.
This site HERE has some really interesting info on it. Go Google "karma" sometime for more indepth articles and variations on the theme.
Anyway, as I was saying when I so rudely interruped myself...
I hope I'm racking up heaps and heaps of good stuff this time, I feel like a nice, long holiday somewhere quiet...
So, anyway, who WAS the mongrel that ran over my dog and didn't stop, huh?
|
Sunday, April 25, 2004
Ancestuous
Your thin end for today:
I've just been reading about pilgrims. No, not the ones John Wayne was always grunting at, real pilgrims. The religious, zealous and intrepid wandering purveyors of God in the Middle Ages. And I bet when their turn came a few hundred years later that the Pilgrim Fathers did more than just thank God when they finally staggered off the Mayflower.
Anyway, back in the Middle Ages, there were wandering monks who hopped into little coracles (that's a boat, ignoramus) and set off to sea to spread the Hallelujah word to strange and exotic lands without even a spare pair of sandals or something to keep their yoghurt culture alive in. These monks were known as "perigrini", or "Pilgrim" a Middle English word from Old French peligrin, from Late Latin pelegrinus, alteration of Latin peregrinus (foreigner) and used to mean a traveller or wayfarer, or one who travels to a shrine or holy place as a devotee - on a pilgrimage I guess.
And that, dear reader, is also where the very cosmopolitan, 100 mile-an-hour peregrine or "wandering" falcon gets it's name; why we wander, rove and traverse life in our peregrinations and why one of Frodo Baggins' most trusted companions on the road was named Peregrine Took. Old J.R.R Tolkien knew his shit.
They were on a Pilgrimage, too.
Magik, huh?
That Billy Boyd is soooo cute, he can peregrinate my way any time he likes.
|
I've just been reading about pilgrims. No, not the ones John Wayne was always grunting at, real pilgrims. The religious, zealous and intrepid wandering purveyors of God in the Middle Ages. And I bet when their turn came a few hundred years later that the Pilgrim Fathers did more than just thank God when they finally staggered off the Mayflower.
Anyway, back in the Middle Ages, there were wandering monks who hopped into little coracles (that's a boat, ignoramus) and set off to sea to spread the Hallelujah word to strange and exotic lands without even a spare pair of sandals or something to keep their yoghurt culture alive in. These monks were known as "perigrini", or "Pilgrim" a Middle English word from Old French peligrin, from Late Latin pelegrinus, alteration of Latin peregrinus (foreigner) and used to mean a traveller or wayfarer, or one who travels to a shrine or holy place as a devotee - on a pilgrimage I guess.
And that, dear reader, is also where the very cosmopolitan, 100 mile-an-hour peregrine or "wandering" falcon gets it's name; why we wander, rove and traverse life in our peregrinations and why one of Frodo Baggins' most trusted companions on the road was named Peregrine Took. Old J.R.R Tolkien knew his shit.
They were on a Pilgrimage, too.
Magik, huh?
That Billy Boyd is soooo cute, he can peregrinate my way any time he likes.
|
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