Tuesday, February 10, 2009

What Every One of Us Must Find

(Blog author's note: I alter this fabulous and perceptive author's titles not out of disrespect, but respect at the unexpected and prescient phrases, themes, and ideas that catch my eye in his brilliant essays)

"The Bank Loan's Connected to the Zen Koan

…the way the hip bone is connected to the knee bone.

When I saw this little item it made me think of something else. The way my mind works; one thing generally causes me to think of another thing. That might be the key to human invention or it might be the nature of the mind itself and I might actually be the guy reading this or Santa’s little elf. I’m glad we cleared that up. We’re just here to clean up the mess…

Over at that tired, “I’m sorry I shit in my pants; someone must have put it there while I was sleeping” forum which I use as an example of, “they went that way” misleading genre it continues to be true that, you couldn’t see the truth if it came up and kissed you on the cheek or anything else.

And the statistical possibility that Paul Wolfowitz would have been the head of The World Bank and that his girlfriend was actually Ann Coulter who used to be a man; serving to muddy the waters here probably doesn’t matter either but I digress.

The fact that I might not know a Khazar from a kosher meat factory isn’t important and I can’t tell you how many Michael Milken’s can dance on the head of an Ivan Bosky or whether Jack Abramoff and Bernie Madoff were Siamese twins. What makes me wonder is that the same kind of chicken is dancing on a griddle in Holocaustlandia and it just doesn’t seem to want to stop.

I guess that should do it for the frame of the picture. Now what do I say? Some people are aware of these things and some people are not and most people don’t care. If anything concerns me it is the fact that most people don’t care and that might be connected to this or it could be connected to this. By this time you should probably be pretty tired of reading all of these things so we’ll just drop a free book in your lap and we can do lunch some time next year, if there is one.

The worst thing about wearing a tin foil hat is that it makes your head itch and your teeth sing. For some people it’s like being caught between a rock and a hard on. For me it’s more like somebody else can’t find my ass with both hands and which is probably what makes me Les Visible and I like that okay.

I guess you can see that there is a problem of some sort here and that the problem would only be that bad things are happening because of it which is what makes it a problem in the first place and what also makes it a Zen koan and why I keep getting hit in the back of the head with a bamboo stave… grasshopper.

Since everything is too fantastic to believe I have decided that someone out there is going to give me one million dollars so that I can buy a particular house in Hawaii and just go on doing what I’m doing. You’re probably reading this right now and I expect you will know how to find me. Given what’s going on, a million dollars isn’t much at all so let your conscience be your guide.

Friends, Romans and book agents lend me your ears; I think we can make a lot of money when we open this Chinese laundry.

My love is a burning hot ember somewhere in the hidden kingdoms of my heart. I suppose it has to burn up all of the world’s garbage before it becomes the one true flame that reveals the face of my beloved. I have been hard at work on it. I have been building the pearl around the irritation of that grain of sand in my shell. I have had a peek behind the curtains into Heaven and Hell. They’re both in operation in real time as you are reading these words.

Somewhere in my mind I am body surfing the splendid combers at Slaughterhouse Beach. If I could, I would have the whole world ride that wave with me until we landed up spent, exhausted and serene upon the glimmering sand. I’m not going to stop until it happens. If I get there first I’m going to do it for you and if you get there first I hope you will remember me by the sea of Galilee and in the devastation of Gaza and upon the shores of Tripoli.

Every one of us must find inside of ourselves a better understanding of how to let the chains fall away from our endless efforts to drive those tired oxen up that slippery hill. That may be a kind of surfing but it is not the one I have in mind for me and for you.

You know that I am a fan of Jacque Fresco and think the world a better place for him being here. I wish for all of us that we could find a better world in our hearts… whatever may lie hereafter besides. The present is where anything starts.

I want you to come with me my friends… into my heart… into our mind… into what has always been possible and keeps getting left behind or seemingly, impossibly up ahead beyond the sliding oxen and the carnage and the dead. It feels like something in a book somewhere. It feels like something I read when I was a child. I believe it must be true.

So, I am going to keep working on that and I hope that you will too.

We are rising up now as into the dawning of the age just the same way that you turn the page and it is being written every moment we are here. We are writing it. It is being written on us; by us, for us, against us, because of us, in spite of us, without us or I don’t know… it just goes on.

I am hoping we can help those oxen up that hill and maybe let all the baggage slide below and somehow we will come on down into the welcoming light of the fireside hearth.

However we manage to sort and arrange these things in order to accomplish what must be, I hope we do it with as much grace and mercy as we have to give.

I’m not saying that I am tired. I am not tired because I am not what carries me; speaking of footprints in the sand.

Let’s find that extra whatever it has to be so that we can cross the ridge and we are free.

And so forth and so on.

God’s not Dead

Every Day

or is it the other way around?