The photies were taken yesterday when I went out to try to hide, just before things fell apart.
I found the dharma talks and the guided meditation from Ringu Tulku so inspiring that yesterday started with great aspirations. I was going to stop drinking and doing anything bad at all. Totally resolved.
Then who shows up out of the blue but Brian Wilson, El Grosso himself, with the half chewed pig's face sticking out of his jacket pocket, the bottle of gin, the cigarettes coming out of every orifice. He was just back from China with a new liver. He's a big supporter of the Chinese government now though the liver they gave him was a bit singed since the Tibetan who had it last torched himself. After about five hours in the pub, I managed to lever him into a taxi and send him back to Portobello.
One of the great things about Buddhism is that guilt is regarded as morbid. You dust yourself off, resolved not to make the same mistake again, and walk on. The meditation I just had was fabulous!!! Everything is cranked up again despite El Grosso showing up.
4 comments:
I say!
That sounds like a terrible experience for all concerned.
MM III
Helpful blissheid advice, especially about resolving not to make the same mistake again.
Hi! The shit just get stirred a different way. It goes round and round unremittingly until the fungers die, die, die, and then it's a bit sad, so it is!
If that's a koan it's too cryptic even for Albert's intelligence. If the fungers are deid, they can't be sad, so Sigmund says maybe it's referring to your own grief. That would make sense if they're still popping off around you.
Albert says can you trump an old dear, stepfather, mother outlaw and dog, all in one year? Thank goodness the bourgeois are without feelings after the toilet training.
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