DREAMS OF A MADMAN: i'd finished reading a bit from my dad's memoirs--realizing
he was the mad hatter of his peers. what a complete lunatic, i wonder at times if i
inherit his legacy. is he that reservoir of energy geoff thompson says must be channeled
or it will become negative? i looked at a journal of my father where it read that he
cried uncontrollibly for the death of jim soss--only to learn later that jim soss was
his made up friend. he was about 8 years old when this happened. then i hear that
the couple of teens that came to me for help--fearing they were with child [from my
school] were not innocents after all but the standard fare for russian adopted kids
with great mental embalances--the girl having an MO for getting close to her male
PE teachers. without this information i just sent then and their problems onto the
school principle, not realizing just how the slightest perceived infraction would have
landed me in a hot seat. these events, even as they don't affect me, have a misanthropic
affect on me. from my mad father, to teens so debauched, i cannot fathom desiring
to reach out to them anymore on a personal level. then i go home and realize the peace
that emerges from letting them all go. and i realize what my training does for me.
maybe that is why some odd pugilists have had mystical experiences from they art.
i doubt seriously that the movements of aikido are somehow warrior like song lines
to heavenly states and battles entertwined, ueshiba the master, or perhaps he found
that isolation and devotion to a thing, anything is the price of greatness and it's
reward that invariably comes from great sacrifices. letting go of the mundane fecal
matter that serves as fossil fuel to grind the great wheels of the ignorrant world we
live in.
after a weekend at home, with thoughts lingering like tramps in the
barren wasteland of my festering mind, a realization emerged:
that i'm on path like everyone but the information is in constant flux, not just
me but the information. to accomodate the pulses of the universe i've lived
under the erronious assumption that the facts stand still. this is
why the so called saints have kept their inspirational
ditties short and simplistic. as the times change, so do the facts on some small
bend not unlike a refracted light. this is why when it comes to apodictic
reasoning--we only have roughly 10 things to remember [though shalt not
something or other]. the truth is in casuistic--or whatever the word is. if this,
then...
i've been taking in and processing so much information over my life like some
kind of currency amassed and the result is toxicity that clouds my mind. in the
toilet of no discrepancy, i've become a lardy, multi talented quasi modern oaf
who could perhaps start a pilates/kung-fu/massage/university if i'm not careful.
i'd move to sedona, take up duhn yoga, and become their new messiah--shortly
before a scandal broke that i'd slept with farm animals and had it filmed after
drunken binges of rage and overall dissatisfaction within. aren't these scandals
a kind of wittling down that occurs either by our own hands or by that of the
universe--if it is needed. if we're truly on a path then they occur.
first we become unhappy with everything [a first real sign of trying to grow toward
something more real], then in the humility that sees the folly in almost everything,
we detest the world and seek isolation, after which we minimalize and gain inspiration
from half naked sadhus--not as much for their literal aesthetic value...god knows
if a sadhu walked into my living room in reality, i'd worry that my initial reaction would
send his head and arse bouncing off the metal steps that lead to my domicile. it's the
metaphor, and if people understood it, there'd be no more mecca and transatlantic
ashram stays. from the home, they'd gain the real message of their gurus and simply
simplify.
i strive for short cuts--for fear that i'm amassing more garbage, creating mindless
rituals, and yolking more years with clouds of stupidity. expectation is the cause of misery,
it's why a woman i know gets into an argument every friday night with her husband [isn't
the weekend supposed to be glorious?] or is it because she hates transitions. but there it is,
more patterns within patterns within patterns--the waves and breaths of the universe.
from small breaths--from which i believe realization occurs, to greater and more epic
breaths that can inspire religions in one era, only to be unfulfilling in another. in the small
breaths and rythms of the world lie the casuistic answers. if this, then that.... and the personal
path of enlightenment not meant to inspire more than from the outline. no one person's
answers will free the next.
yet when we come to the texts that last for inpiration they say one of two things:
1. god is everywhere
2. god is not this, god is not that...
to mesh the two seemingly opposing sentiments, it would have to mean: god is not this when this means non
god to you, god is not that when you feel it is seperate from god. for all to be god, one must see oneself as no
longer seperate from god, no longer teased by the idea of somehow being one's own seperate entity, and the
addage 'let go and let god' seems to make for a more clear lens on the whole thing where
god can simply mean
the equation that carries the universe--forever breathing and changing like water, not to be finitely enjoyed
and somehow understood in entirity like currency to the wise but rather rode like a surfer through time--the
journey. the secret inner language. the thread that holds the 108 beads. the mandala that is erased, by some
with great regret--that which we own owns us, and by others like myself with relief. let this life end, and another
begin. lives within lives. pulses. ride the waves and don't be thrown by the crest, or swallowed by the dip. be
compassionately detached and remember the real damage of attachment is that one eyes try and see all
directions at once. when one can look untethered in one direction only for a moment, one sees more than
spinning and looking. i see that i don't need very much, and that it brings me greater joy to let go of things
than amassing ever did. not 'the' truth, but my truth. the sword of discerning truth, or whatever. more isn't better.
less isn't necessarily quality either. but throw one rock into the pond and still make out the world beneath...throw a
handful of pebbles in and be endlessly farther from even remembering your objective. let go of these thoughts and
be forced to revisit them in 12 years. time to take in on 'faith' that i don't need to see the wheel come round again,
i can anticipate.
i see my weaknesses are in an illusive greater truth which just doesn't exist for me. my barometer for lack of rigor
is my mouth. when i start becoming a porker, eating like an wolverine that fears for himself not finding the next
meal, the amassing mentality has been generating again. my mouth is my barometer. taking in, taking in, there must
be something else. like the poor [knowledge starved metaphor] that are invariably fat from considering food so
important they've failed to notice they're surrounded by food--spending an inordinate amount on prepared food, junk
food, made food, food in theaters, etc...rich people are skinny satisfied pencil necked folk who no longer forage because
the next meal is implicit. it will come. i've eaten enough food for a lifetime. it's time to realize that i've amassed enough
knowlege for a lifetime, and get into the habit of going within and streamlining. eracing not one mandala, but the entire
fukking beach.
gotta go hit the pads. after that. only training entries from me
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