Tuesday 11:05 p.m.
If you're trying to get back into meditating for hours and hours every day, you've got to expect to be a bit restive at first. That was yesterday. I handled today much better. Just meditated for almost all of it until I did my shadow boxing session. When I was young, I didn't believe a sixty year old joe could still do stuff like that. Different culture. I'm amazed that I'm still a fat basturn.
I've been much enjoying the Dalai Lama book about mahamudra, which I've been dipping into every day or so. He gave a very interesting explanation concerning rebirth and subtle minds, but I won't go on about that here since most of the folk who read this are surely bound for hell if there's any afterlife. Anyway, it's not you. You just think it's you. Hope that helps.
Tomorrow I'm off the grid. I'm going to love my bed tonight.
Tuesday, 15 November 2011
Monday, 14 November 2011
Another day, another dollar!
Monday 8:45 p.m.
Meditated a lot today and stopped around eight. Now, for the home brew!
I have to stop trying so hard and be more reasonable and normal, and stop feeling as if moi is getting frustrated all the time.
The cute decorator was in today. I saw her once since I was hiding in my never to be decorated room. Before I saw her, I decided she wasn't cute at all. It's your imagination. Then I did see her and she was dead cute. She wears a pink jumper. What kind of decorator wears a pink jumper? A cute one. There was once a time when every female under thirty started to look very nice indeed. These days maybe you just need not to use a zimmer.
After two hard days meditating, today I was supposed to settle down and just do it and be there. Hmmm? I think I should start writing again. This did occur to me quite strongly today. Of course, it's a while since I was a writer and I will have to try to remember how you go about that again.
Where do they get their ideas from, Jack? Who? Writers. Well, Hotboy, when you were a writer, where did you get your ideas from? Nowhere. Nothing.
There's been nothing new since Sophocles anyway. Who can claim to have had an original thought?
Once, when I was between writing things, I had to pause and ask myself before beginning a new project ... how many dwarves? Will we have dwarves or not? I felt most comfortable when I was writing books about meditating and such like since that felt sort of integrated. Like, I was meditating and writing about it. But I've nothing in that regard I want to write about just now and ... the best thing is to write a script. When I was trying to be writer, I used to be able to write scripts when I didn't have much time. In those days I didn't think you could write novels in less than four hours typing time a day. Hmmm? But I'll have to learn all that again since I haven't been a writer for ages now.
I can't remember how to punctuate anymore. This learning to be a writer and write again might be quite stimulating.
I always think of going back to writing when the meditations have had a dip of some sort. Maybe it's a matter of control. I can't seem to be able to control my time anymore. I was so German once. Metropolis. Metronome man. Counting out the slices of time. Now time is sliced off like a loss and is something I seem to have lost control of.
I have all the fences to jump in the world concerning the juju, but I don't know what they are. I am not in control of the bliss. You try to meditate and stuff happens. I'm not even sure I'm meditating anymore. It was so simple when you picked a sound and just concentrated on that, and such wonderful results were appertaining, but we're not in Kansas anymore, Jack, and who knows where the fung this is going. I certainly don't.
But I do have confidence in the short path. When I read the biography of Milarepa, I did not disbelieve any of it. When it talked about the boy flying through the air, or being in different places at the one time, this didn't phase me. I have confidence in the short path. Unfortunately, I can't do the short path because .... well, whatever because. I can't do it.
The lama says: Sometimes you've just got to sit there. It's not all firecracker stuff. It's back to the beginning when you first try to learn how to meditate. Sometimes you've just got to sit there.
How am I ever going to be able to get up to the point where I'm just sitting for days and days and days?
Instead of being able to do that, writing scripts (which no one wants!) would seem pretty stupid, but at least you have some control over that sort of thing.
Meditated a lot today and stopped around eight. Now, for the home brew!
I have to stop trying so hard and be more reasonable and normal, and stop feeling as if moi is getting frustrated all the time.
The cute decorator was in today. I saw her once since I was hiding in my never to be decorated room. Before I saw her, I decided she wasn't cute at all. It's your imagination. Then I did see her and she was dead cute. She wears a pink jumper. What kind of decorator wears a pink jumper? A cute one. There was once a time when every female under thirty started to look very nice indeed. These days maybe you just need not to use a zimmer.
After two hard days meditating, today I was supposed to settle down and just do it and be there. Hmmm? I think I should start writing again. This did occur to me quite strongly today. Of course, it's a while since I was a writer and I will have to try to remember how you go about that again.
Where do they get their ideas from, Jack? Who? Writers. Well, Hotboy, when you were a writer, where did you get your ideas from? Nowhere. Nothing.
There's been nothing new since Sophocles anyway. Who can claim to have had an original thought?
Once, when I was between writing things, I had to pause and ask myself before beginning a new project ... how many dwarves? Will we have dwarves or not? I felt most comfortable when I was writing books about meditating and such like since that felt sort of integrated. Like, I was meditating and writing about it. But I've nothing in that regard I want to write about just now and ... the best thing is to write a script. When I was trying to be writer, I used to be able to write scripts when I didn't have much time. In those days I didn't think you could write novels in less than four hours typing time a day. Hmmm? But I'll have to learn all that again since I haven't been a writer for ages now.
I can't remember how to punctuate anymore. This learning to be a writer and write again might be quite stimulating.
I always think of going back to writing when the meditations have had a dip of some sort. Maybe it's a matter of control. I can't seem to be able to control my time anymore. I was so German once. Metropolis. Metronome man. Counting out the slices of time. Now time is sliced off like a loss and is something I seem to have lost control of.
I have all the fences to jump in the world concerning the juju, but I don't know what they are. I am not in control of the bliss. You try to meditate and stuff happens. I'm not even sure I'm meditating anymore. It was so simple when you picked a sound and just concentrated on that, and such wonderful results were appertaining, but we're not in Kansas anymore, Jack, and who knows where the fung this is going. I certainly don't.
But I do have confidence in the short path. When I read the biography of Milarepa, I did not disbelieve any of it. When it talked about the boy flying through the air, or being in different places at the one time, this didn't phase me. I have confidence in the short path. Unfortunately, I can't do the short path because .... well, whatever because. I can't do it.
The lama says: Sometimes you've just got to sit there. It's not all firecracker stuff. It's back to the beginning when you first try to learn how to meditate. Sometimes you've just got to sit there.
How am I ever going to be able to get up to the point where I'm just sitting for days and days and days?
Instead of being able to do that, writing scripts (which no one wants!) would seem pretty stupid, but at least you have some control over that sort of thing.
Free Monday!
I've been meditating all morning, so this is a wee break!! Great meditations, but I won't go on about them.
What with this and that, I've been doing very little meditating in my hut of late, but I did manage to get up to the allotment yesterday for a bit. I came back with a leek, some turnips, brussel sprouts, and made a delicious pot of soup.
I was surprised to find a few raspberries left and the marigolds are hanging on in there!
Friday, 11 November 2011
Sides of a coin.
Saturday night, 9:58 p.m.
Getting pissed.
I have to take responsibility for all the horrible, stupid thoughts I have because I know they can never be true and just arise due to the things you have done and thought, etc., before. They should be clouds in the sky, observed and let go.
Emotions wrap them up in impenetrable armour and you have to live these thoughts, and have them, and be in the storm. You know these thoughts are conditioned, and that is a wonderful lesson, but they have been conditioned by the come downs from the various pollutions that you put into your body, principally from tobacco. And yet you let these thoughts arise due to your addiction to tobacco when it would be dead easy to give up the tobacco, as you have done so many hundreds of times before.
The other side of the coin is the bliss. I do not any more want to talk about the bliss in this blogginess because no one who reads this meditates, and in the face of such unfortunateness one is struck dumb.
How can you have been given a mind and chosen not to meditate? You might as well have been a horse.
Anyway, it's bugger all about the bliss. I'll have to live to be at least one hundred and fifty years old. All the bonds with the flatheids I know must have been broken. I thought once that when I became terminal, I could watch lots of David Attenborough shows, but the frozen caterpillar has funged me up.
Stepping out from your skin into just awareness is going to be fung hard work. Meditation is a hard juju. It would be much easier just to settle with what you've got.
Though it is not about the bliss, once you can access the bliss, this must give you a completely different view. There is the bliss. It's just slightly down the layer cake. Anybody can get to the bliss. But the bliss is so wonderful.
I've been doing the juju with my eyes open more often because you do mahamudra meditations with your eyes open. It might not make much difference, though it would help you react faster when the wild dogs come round to eat you, but eventually all there was in view was the candle light, the pointy upward light, and nothing else, is that, the cone of light. Everything else around it has melted. Some time ago when I was doing this up the allotment the object I was gazing at disappeared. I think you've not got to care.
But you don't meditate. I think I only like it (apart from the bliss, etc.) because ....
Getting pissed.
I have to take responsibility for all the horrible, stupid thoughts I have because I know they can never be true and just arise due to the things you have done and thought, etc., before. They should be clouds in the sky, observed and let go.
Emotions wrap them up in impenetrable armour and you have to live these thoughts, and have them, and be in the storm. You know these thoughts are conditioned, and that is a wonderful lesson, but they have been conditioned by the come downs from the various pollutions that you put into your body, principally from tobacco. And yet you let these thoughts arise due to your addiction to tobacco when it would be dead easy to give up the tobacco, as you have done so many hundreds of times before.
The other side of the coin is the bliss. I do not any more want to talk about the bliss in this blogginess because no one who reads this meditates, and in the face of such unfortunateness one is struck dumb.
How can you have been given a mind and chosen not to meditate? You might as well have been a horse.
Anyway, it's bugger all about the bliss. I'll have to live to be at least one hundred and fifty years old. All the bonds with the flatheids I know must have been broken. I thought once that when I became terminal, I could watch lots of David Attenborough shows, but the frozen caterpillar has funged me up.
Stepping out from your skin into just awareness is going to be fung hard work. Meditation is a hard juju. It would be much easier just to settle with what you've got.
Though it is not about the bliss, once you can access the bliss, this must give you a completely different view. There is the bliss. It's just slightly down the layer cake. Anybody can get to the bliss. But the bliss is so wonderful.
I've been doing the juju with my eyes open more often because you do mahamudra meditations with your eyes open. It might not make much difference, though it would help you react faster when the wild dogs come round to eat you, but eventually all there was in view was the candle light, the pointy upward light, and nothing else, is that, the cone of light. Everything else around it has melted. Some time ago when I was doing this up the allotment the object I was gazing at disappeared. I think you've not got to care.
But you don't meditate. I think I only like it (apart from the bliss, etc.) because ....
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
The Woolly Caterpillar Enigma Part 2.
Wednesday 11:43 a.m.
The woolly caterpillar was on a David Attenborough show. It lives in the Antarctic, I think. When it gets cold, the woolly caterpillar wriggles under a stone and when it gets really cold, it stops breathing. Then its intestines freeze, and then it freezes completely.
Were you to pick up the woolly moth at this point, it would show no signs of life. It is, to all intents and purposes, dead. It is a dead caterpillar. Deceased. It has joined the heavenly choir of caterpillars. It is frozen solid.
When the sun begins to shine again and the caterpillar warms up, it springs to life and goes wriggling about its business till it gets cold again, and it goes through this process fourteen times before it becomes a moth.
There has to be something we don't know about operating here, Jack. What is making the difference between the caterpillar being alive and being dead?
Some yogis are supposed to be able to stop breathing and such, using winds and channels and whatnot, and they are supposed to be not dead either. Hmmm?
Of course, the caterpillar wraps itself in a cocoon at one point and comes out as a moth, which is just ridiculous.
The woolly caterpillar was on a David Attenborough show. It lives in the Antarctic, I think. When it gets cold, the woolly caterpillar wriggles under a stone and when it gets really cold, it stops breathing. Then its intestines freeze, and then it freezes completely.
Were you to pick up the woolly moth at this point, it would show no signs of life. It is, to all intents and purposes, dead. It is a dead caterpillar. Deceased. It has joined the heavenly choir of caterpillars. It is frozen solid.
When the sun begins to shine again and the caterpillar warms up, it springs to life and goes wriggling about its business till it gets cold again, and it goes through this process fourteen times before it becomes a moth.
There has to be something we don't know about operating here, Jack. What is making the difference between the caterpillar being alive and being dead?
Some yogis are supposed to be able to stop breathing and such, using winds and channels and whatnot, and they are supposed to be not dead either. Hmmm?
Of course, the caterpillar wraps itself in a cocoon at one point and comes out as a moth, which is just ridiculous.
Friday, 4 November 2011
The Woolly Caterpillar Enigma
Friday 10:50 p.m.
Had another wonderful training session this evening. Twenty to Mr Iyengar's yogic jumpings and six three minute rounds of shadow boxing with half minute partitions. I think I've found my salvation for this winter. Running is nothing like as enjoyable. It's cold and dark out there now, Jack.
Yesterday in Newmains was great. The meditations were occasionally fantastic. You have to sit there for a long time, but it certainly has its compensations!! Of course, it's not about the bliss. I was able to spend two hours in the late afternoon sitting in the gorgeous back garden. I was staring slightly upwards at the sky above the outhouse, at the changing cloudscape, only interrupted by the visitation of a cat. I'm trying to do more emptiness stuff, much inspired by the video I saw last weekend.
And the world doesn't seem to be such a vale of tears anymore, Jack! No, indeedee not!
Had another wonderful training session this evening. Twenty to Mr Iyengar's yogic jumpings and six three minute rounds of shadow boxing with half minute partitions. I think I've found my salvation for this winter. Running is nothing like as enjoyable. It's cold and dark out there now, Jack.
Yesterday in Newmains was great. The meditations were occasionally fantastic. You have to sit there for a long time, but it certainly has its compensations!! Of course, it's not about the bliss. I was able to spend two hours in the late afternoon sitting in the gorgeous back garden. I was staring slightly upwards at the sky above the outhouse, at the changing cloudscape, only interrupted by the visitation of a cat. I'm trying to do more emptiness stuff, much inspired by the video I saw last weekend.
And the world doesn't seem to be such a vale of tears anymore, Jack! No, indeedee not!
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