Someone asked me if I was “mental”.

Actually I’m not “mental” strictly speaking though I am a Crazy Wisdom Guru of the Karma-Kagyu and Nyingma Lineages of Tibbetain Buddhism. For those whose minds inhabit traditional patterns of sanity my thinking can seem “mental”, i’ll admit.

I was taking the “p” out of science and Lorreal: science doesn’t understand why “light” travels through some “things” and not others because we don’t really understand what “things” or “light” are for a start. Which would be a good beginning!

I was called a child prodigy in maths and physics which made it boring. Instead I sought out dope, girls and discovered out how to blow up the schools first computer by making the seriel port turn and off so damn quick it played a tune on a relay “Land of hope and glory”

… getting those tones right using “for-next loops” in basic to slow it down was a long job … I hear it now …”beeeeeep beeeeeep beeep beeep beeep beeeeeeeep beeeeep” and the refrain from my computer teacher “turn that F***ing thing off before it …”

BANG

Computer lessons were less fun after that. While the school saved up for a new one, we went back to sending punch cards through the post and and getting them back a week later with a printout that said “Error on card 1″. The feeling this gave us was only slightly better than the feeling we had after another week when the report said “error on card 2″. Debugging was a slow proces back then and we all had lice anyway so pointless.

However .. I digress …

I was also indeed, mimicking the style and Genius of that now-so-sadly-lost-to-us GOD of comedy, Monsieur Milligan, who’s poems lighted up my childhood like a very bling sign saying:

” IT’S NOT ALL BAD “

And as you like his poems so much, here’s another:

A baby sardine saw his first submarine,
And swam to look through a peephole,
“Come come”, said his mum, don’t be so glum,
It’s only a tin - full of people.

Peace + thanks for the rep + some back for your appreciation of Spike. May god toast him quickly.

CrazyB

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I really loved California - at least that little bit I saw.  Not their TV though. According to American TV God is blessing America, driving round in a four by four (SUV), viewing real estate in which to invest His instant get rich quick profits.

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Mortido and Libido, Freud said, ruled our lives. These ad-hoc structures are but points on a scale, limits within which one finds all aspects of self. Habits of perception and being dictate patterns that assume control. Parts of a whole, a system of control. A little commitee.

Crossing the River Seine, heading from, the left bank to the right, I am stopped by a tourist asking me to take a photograph of himself and his family. “I’m English”, I say, “so now I am going to say ’say cheese’”, before taking the snap, which puts a smile on their faces - even though I am certain they haven’t a clue what I am saying or why. After taking the picture and exchanging a few words with him, and discovering he is from Macedonia, I walk on.

At the next bridge, as I leave the Ile de la Cite there is a man taking a picture of a young woman. He takes the photograph and hands back the camera. I had thought they were lovers but she thanks him, in English and they part, heading in opposite directions. There are people smiling and laughing in the cold but beutifully sunny and clear light of late morning.

I start to remember, having not set foot “en France” for several years, why I love this country so much. People here are enduringly polite to each other and deeply rooted on the ground and in the moment to moment reality of being, in a way the English are not. People here help each other, whist in England, the overuling principle is to help oneself, whether legitimiately or not.

Many English and Americans would no doubt disbelieve this, but then those people are stupid enough to come here without having learned a word of the French language. I have no doubt a Frenchman who walked into a coffeeshop in Detroit or Birmingham and asked for the toilet or a cup of coffee in French would find the response he got less than enthuiastic or informative.

I love France, I love the people and I love the languague so I am heavily biased myself of course. Yet having grown up in England and at various times lived in France for a total of four years, I know both countries, both peoples and both languages well enough.

England, America and the “help yourself” mentality embodied in the cultures, sytems and peoples of those countries stink. England and America in their new colonialism towards the Middle East, in order to secure political division amongst those peoples and supplies of oil for themselves, are commiting attrocities worse than a thousand Jihad Terrorists could achieve. Individualism stinks. It creates greed and a feeding frenzy of the ego that dehumanizes us and we do not even see it happening.

Since the Regan-Thatcher era, when the Iron Bitch announced there was no such thing as “society” and then set out to destroy wholesale that which she proclaimed was not there Britain has been heading steadily downhill, towards the cultural low that is “The American Way”. I can see so clearly in the light of this French day why the French are “contre” - against - everything for which that stands.

Together yet apart is the only way man can live, be it in the field of economics, international relations or even something as everyday as marriage. The me against you attitude embodied in the politico-economic domination of the Anglo-Saxon way is killing our planet. It is time the peoples of America, Britain and their followers in the world woke up to reality and smelled the bad odour of the path they follow. Total individualism and Britain, I’m sorry to say, stink.

There is now. There is a collection of past experiences. There is a collection of habits. There are feelings, perceptions, stories, body, movement and change.

Where am I?

The sun through the clouds high in the winter sky.

My bathroom wallpapered with maps from my travels.

The shrine, a reminder to meditate, the dining table I made, and the stools I bought cheap

White Snow Clings 

White snow clings to the roofs of the cars.
Fresh daisies on my windowsill.
Every moment is perfect.
My zen teacher told me.
Even his death.
Dying trying to save.
His baby daughter Maya.
Drowning in a lake in Switzerland.
Which held so many perfect moments.
And was so deep as never known.

(in honour of Kobun Chino Roshi And His Daughter Maya) 

Love, falling in love, loving, being loved, beloved. What is love? What is attachment? What relation do these have to habit? How do these things operate as forces in our lives? We need to ask ourselves such questions. If you were looking for answers, I am sorry, but you have to look within.

I sometimes wonder,
Who am I,
What Am I,
Where Am I?

The clouds outside are lit by the light of a fading London sunset. There was a rainbow, but now it’s gone. The golden light is reflecting from the safron and terracotta walls of my living room. And the world feels good, just because of the quality of light … humans beings are too bizarrely constructed for these myths about God to be true.