Life is a pleasurable ego purgatory. Well, dang.
There's also a shit ton of suffering around,
of course there is, but
of course there is! I do not wish
to harm another. Let alone by blithe
naïve simplicity grown jaunty in a sudden
apprehension of joy, as it does. Nor is it
my single-minded and determined, driven
ambition to seem to be or indeed be cruel
but, doesn't it always seem like the people
who are suffering around are kind of missing
the point?
Look. That's no callous pot-shot jeer or victim
blame play. Call up a Buddhist and ask THAT
tending-towards enlightened one! Heezy or sheezy
so compassionate nihilist in tone and mode, or
the next most tantamount thing, they'll tell you:
Suffering's? BULL shit, bruh. DON'T.
And if you find that sound (it is), and brave
why to ask how they're so wise about it,
they'll lay out a claptrap jibber-jab conceptual
mobile sculpture art piece about attachment
that'll leave you reeling.
I don't want to spoil the moment for you,
but the worst thing for your ego just then
will be the gripping realization that it's not
just all bullshit. Then you'll have to deal
with that part. It won't be easy, so much
as simple! HARD SIMPLICITY. The rude
way up the mountain, and fuck down.
You'll be on the path again, reeling on swerve
all the way back to me and apologize. Joe
man, no. YOU weren't the asshole
with that observation on suffering's
point-missignessitivity. It's a classic either/or
duality/dichotomy, and I discovered this
by the light of a contemplative Buddhist.
("Of course you did," my wry, disaffected
and conspicuously unattached mind not so
much observes and is long become aware
of) And undaunted by my inner twinkle
and glimmer atcha, you resume:
Either you're right and that's just an unjudgmental
objective eye-shot, or the Buddhist is enlightened
- and you are also right. Because that's what
suffering's missing point betokens: attachment.
HIS deal - or hers. The Buddhist's. So - that
point
grasped, and
with I mean clarity, limpidity,
lucidity and a fat density of finest
available-scale granularity in
accurate correspondence to reality?
You basically can tell.
Yeah. Yeah we can. I forgive you
gratuitously in a superabundance
grace move, now knock it off
on the obvious. Don't sever
your attachment to the obvious, just
ease off on it a little. Own it, go
"huh" and let go letting it be it
and you be you, that meta-ass
postmodern inner-wifty woo woo
rigmarole is so Old Age it has
that distinctive smell.
We can all pretty much agree I wasn't
BEING an "ass hole" when I popped
that shot from heart's-bottom smack
ricochet off head-top to somersault
bwong-springboard dive trippingly
turningly from the tip
of the tongue
plashless
into the pool of conscious icity,
which some call isness, but I
prefer to simply give the business
and use real words, please. Such as
GROW and UP. Good, just advice
for one still growing!
Are you? If so then ya know
and I don't have to tell you.
When I said that up there, I was being
just being and no fooling. Now
that we see
I'm basically
in accord with other authorities
more respected as cool wisdom
merchants and devotees, I can
pretty much dismiss such miscreant
miscast aspersions with a hale, hearty:
Fuck off with your damn askance
eye, brother.
We all make do down here, believe
me. And
attachment
well, that's more the Buddhist's deal.
My deal's more like I said, but add
a certain tantamouncy of
bouncy
jaunty
cock-shot straight
to the nearest knee
if you have the right cocked disdain
sneer for attachment, there is no want
involved in that.
Only kneed. Just
cause, I reckon.
I, me, kneed
perchance to reconsider my suffering
stance, sinking to knees of my own.
Meekness has its ways in, even
to hearts grown bold in knowing good
beautifully true, and revolving
suspended in it. Meekness?
Yeah. Call it a hard compromise
between getting one's wont
and kneed, just once.
Where you bet it counts.
Sorry
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