The Infinite Sky

_ I'm going to a concert tonight.
_ Do-re-mi... Who's performing?
_ The Howlin' Shaolins.
_ The Howlin' Shaolins?
_ Have you never?
_ Have I never what? Have I never?... What the hell is that supposed to mean? You have to be a little more specific. Have I never? You have to tie a string to a kite in order for it to be meaningful.
_ Have you ever heard of them? That's all. You've never heard of them?
_ No.
_ They're a bunch of monks from Dengfeng, China, who can each sing five notes at the same time, and blow three more out of their keisters.
_ You have erased the last smudge of residual mind-stuff from the infinite sky of my being. You have set me free, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
_ No problema. My treat today.

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     ... I was waiting the prerequisite ten minutes in a Chinese take-out place when one of the owner's children walked up to me. She was a dainty little flower, and she had on a button which read, "We are all the Buddha."  She never said a word to me, nor I to her. I remember floating home.

     ... Fifty one percent air; forty nine percent something else. Seventy eight percent of the forty nine percent is wah-wah (tears); some are real, some just leaked out. That which remains will stay behind and provide food and lodging for the worms. The rest is free to go where the peaceful waters flow.

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