_ Err, ah...squelch... This is the, err, ah, ghost of Ted Kennedy, the former, err, ah, lion of the Senate, coming to you live from the, err, ah, grave... squelch.
_ This is...squelch... the guy polishing avocados near the front entrance of your local grocery superstore... squelch... who upon hearing someone say "Hi" has realized that he is, in fact, alive, and that he should greet the customer...squelch... "Good morning"...squelch... It's all part of the job description.
_ Ted's one fathom down, in Norman's home, and has finally shed those extra pounds.
_ Norman's home?
_ Yeah... Norman the worm. Opening Day of baseball season brings back memories I've never had of Ted and all the, err, ah, Kennedy's.
_ Businessmen, buzzcuts, brown shoes upon which the break in the trousers rest, bacteria and boredom... Upon this mountain, upon this pile of sand, underneath which Norman carries on, I stand and ask you a simple question: Should the dispenser of our just rewards move on, vanishing from our minds and memory, would you continue in the life you live?
_ Dissatisfaction is the ignored, though never forgotten, child of desire; it is the animal behind us chasing us down, yet we think we are the one pursuing a tasty comestible. Without a reward there would be no point to carrying on; although, I suppose, without a 'reward' there would be no sense of dissatisfaction. Let's pull out the green card and say I don't know.
_ Tea sans ice; practice and dispassion; the forever high tide of anger. A day so cloudy you can't see the clouds. How are we to practice if, through dispassion, the thought of reward is gone? Haven't we been taught that action results in consequence, be it reward or ridicule? We haven't been taught dispassion. We are children in, and of, time; and dispassion negates time... Hmm...
_ Hmm? That's a fighting word where I come from.
_ I guess there is no more waiting; I guess that means that I'm done reading magazines. Is it possible to remove oneself from the stilted equation of this resulting in that?... One needn't have the world's largest crystal ball to ascertain that there is only bondage in reward; yet how are we to dismantle the anger that arises when responsible, considered action, instead of bringing reward, confronts certain death?.. Or is anger to be understood in the context of being the result of a prior action's resultant dissatisfaction? Can we be done with it all?
_ All tough questions considering that we've been sold on reward from our first step. And now you say there is none?
_ Nothing lasting.
_ I'm okay with the temporary nature if things.
_ That's because you haven't funneled down into the Cathedral of The Cramped Opening, a place wherein everything and everyone gets left behind; and when the door shuts behind you, it shuts for good.
_ Bullshit artist. Play your word games on someone else. Buy me a chai or suffer the consequences of the back of my hand coming in contact with your skull.
_ Extra steam?
_ Yes... I think I deserve a little extra steam.
******
... Somewhere the piano note at the close of "A Day in the Life" resounds still; frozen, as it were.
... Anger... I've learned well; I've perfectly assimilated an imperfect knowing.
photocredit
I was interviewing glass-blower Steve Fellerman. He said he frequently had customers come in with shards of shattered glass, begging him to "repair" their pulverized Chihuly.
ReplyDeleteIn response to the shattered expression on their faces when he told them that glass sculptures can not be repaired, and their protestations that the broken thing was such a "valuable" work of art, Fellerman would explain, "Yes, its valuable - but it's also ephemeral. In fact, that's exactly why it is so valuable!" The vitreous Koan of the week
Wishing you all the steam you can use