*Birdle Burble

 

I went out of my mind and then came to my senses

By meeting a magpie who mixed up his tenses,

Who muddled distinctions of nouns and of verbs,

And insisted that logic is bad for the birds.

With a poo-wee cluck and a chit, chit-chit;

The grammar and meaning don’t matter a bit.

 

The stars in their courses have no destination;

The train of events will arrive at no station;

The inmost and ultimate Self of us all

Is dancing on nothing and having a ball.

So with chat for chit and with tat for tit,

This will be that, and that will be It!

 

 

*The poem above is taken from Alan Watt’s “Nonsense”.

**Painting “Magpies” by Archibald Thorburn, 1905.

 

* I prefer dongulation

It is, I think, increasingly clear that parameters of this kind provide an essential corrective to the obsession of sanity. More and more, one feels that free and dominant methods are loud, tough, and frequent. Obviously, closed corners must be very carefully under-rated; otherwise, popular notions of frame and texture will show that the entire system is purely academic, and that the particular point of convergent energies is that they are finally globular.
Cows are, naturally, free of dust. But stops are most difficult to try. The real problem is that quills are too fat, and until we can easily connect ideas with tassles the function will be empty. Not that this would be equal: it is only that disproportionate combinations have an existential dimension which is, all too often, gullible.
On the whole, I prefer dongulation. It is prepid, snord, and tart, and the vallifaction of an estimate is grolic. Churdles and mards will always require fronicks, and lapsy daddles are usually bequeathed to the snorder kind of lumpens. Bolliwots are frankly bespoken, and every mutter-hound is a preposterous garble of tonsils. I have no wish to be snerdily previous: It is merely that wumpens and drabs are vollible, and that any further toculation would be groanly unspecified.

 

*Quotation above are taken from Alan Watt’s “Nonsense”

**Painting “Laughing Hotei” by Kogan Genge

My Idea of Heaven

Now and then I find myself thinking about all the possible and impossible paths I could take and all the narrow roads I could follow to get to that unique place I want to be. But where is that place and how do I get there? Is there a map I could use? Are there signposts along the way?
There are so many life-changing options I can imagine. I could become a fireman, a cowboy or an astronaut if I really wanted to. I could become a scientist, an athlete, an actor or even a writer if I had the desire to do the necessary things for becoming one. I could build castles of stone, sand and steel, if I wanted that sort of a thing. I could walk on hot coals and dance on a tightrope. I could read books on medieval alchemy, write diatribes and compose a haiku. I could wander around aimlessly, having no thought for the morrow. I could preach a non-dual sermon about the interdependence of life on a busy street and beg for food in the marketplace, if only I wanted to. I could even steal apples and strawberries from your garden and then lie and pretend that it never happened. I could speak with strangers and ask them to join my revolutionary army whose only member was me. I could travel around the world with empty pockets, meditate in a Benedictine monastery and visit a prostitute, only if I wanted to. I could drink a German Riesling and play chess with myself. I could go into the church and interrupt the service by proclaiming that the kingdom has arrived in me. I could, in this very moment, try something I have never done before like hugging people for no reason, giving away my possessions to those in need and helping a lonely kitten to survive the harsh climate of my country. I could also look into your eyes and say that I love you. Yes, that I could do as well. I could do so many things. I could change my life forever in one split second, only if I wanted to.

Koan = Anecdote

Once I told a renowned Zen master an anecdote. He didn’t laughed. He said that my anecdote was a koan.

Here’s the anecdote: “There is no God and Jesus is his only son.” (Copyrights to Alan Watts)

P.S. I’ve been busy like a devil in these last couple of weeks. Studies are crushing my enormous potential as a writer, multimedia artist and a future winner of Nobel prize. 🙂