According to Alan Watts, the game of the universe is peek-a-boo. He explains reality as some sort of infinite awareness that has imagined all that there is. We are part of that imagining. The imaginer and the imagined. Having imagined ourselves, we completely forget that it is we who are imagining. Every so often we see something, hear something, or think something that reminds us of what we really are. Peek-a-boo. Then we forget again.
The forgetting is as miraculous as the remembering. What an amazing game. Even if we completely wake up and see the game that we are playing, we will continue to play. What was I doing again? Peek-a-boo. Laugh like a baby.
I have often wished that the morning newspaper wasn’t so negative. Death, suffering, and injustices are news. If I want to be aware of these things I read the newspaper. It is a morning ritual. It is a comforting activity. It is a responsible adult thing to do. It may not be good for me. The content may be toxic.
When I come to tumblr for my morning news, I get news that seems more relevant. It is important to love. I should be nice to people. I should remain focused on my task of awakening. I should help others. This becomes the newspaper that I wanted. Who would have imagined such a thing?
Some thinking tells me that I imagined it into existence. That is only true if I think of myself as the big I, I mean the universe. The little me never imagined this, I just stumbled upon it.
It is a lot of pressure to think that I need to imagine the world I want into existence, my little imagination gets stuck on what is possible, what I think, what I know. I can imagine an awakening that is sort of like winning the lottery, where I reach a certain mental state and then I am no longer prone to worries and pain. What I get is lots of little reminders, flashes of beauty mixed with claps of pain. The awakening goes on and on.
Each morning I wake up and look to the news. I look for the new. What I see is what I imagine.
When you are very young, you suffer intensely and it passes without leaving a trace. A young child can fall into a wailing, sobbing, fit whenever the mood hits. Nobody gets alarmed at these moods, or buys into the root cause. Parents understand it is a mood, likely caused by hunger or tiredness.
When you move into your teens and early adulthood. Moods still come and go. The causes are more compelling. Love, life, social acceptance, social rejection. The moods stay longer and leave scars. Parents don’t understand. Sometimes they think they understand, but they remain powerless.
When you get to later adulthood, right up to death, moods are quite serious. Teens and children don’t understand. Adult responsibilities pile up. The scars of earlier years open up fresh. You are no longer going through stages, you are really suffering.
Suffer, suffer, suffer, its all the same. If you could suffer like the young child and observe your suffering like the parent, knowing that it is not as bad as it feels, you could learn a bit from suffering. If you learn this as a young adult, when the suffering is so intense, you will grow wings.
If your mind isn’t working, throw it out.
If you feel that there is something wrong with you, it could be helpful to talk to a therapist who can listen to you until you come to understand that you’re really OK.
If you subscribe to therapy, you must believe that you are really OK. The therapist will guide you through your mind and untangle the knot that is making you feel not OK. If you were not fundamentally OK to begin with, therapy would never work.
Therapy does work because we are all really OK. This is important to understand. If you understand that you are OK, even when you are not feeling OK, then you will know that your problems are not you. This knowledge gives you courage to wade into the uncomfortable feelings and know that you won’t get sucked into the undertow.
The real truth is that you are much better than OK. If it is difficult to see that, then you should throw out your mind. If it is difficult to do that, try therapy.
How do you do?
Why do you do? What do you do? How do you do that?
How do you look at little black squiggles on a screen and know what is in another person’s mind?
How do you imagine what might happen tomorrow and, in so doing, alter your body’s chemistry today?
How do you sense vibrations in the air and know that there is a bird nearby?
How do you eat an ear of corn and turn it into energy?
You do these things without effort, even brilliantly. You perform these mundane miracles moment after moment, yet sometimes you think that you are not amazing.
I find that scrolling down the dashboard in tumblr is a good analogy for meditation.
In meditation, we sit, focus our attention on our breath, and thoughts drift in and out of our awareness.
In tumblr, we sit, focus our attention on the screen, and posts drift in and out of our awareness.
In meditation, we may get carried away with a thought. We may follow that thought for a few seconds or a few minutes and then come back to our breath.
In tumblr, we may get carried away with a post. We may follow a link for a few seconds or a few minutes and then come back to our dashboard.
In meditation, we try to judge our thoughts with kindness and compassion.
In tumblr, when we judge the posts we can only click on ‘like’.
In meditation, when our thoughts stop we achieve awakening.
In tumblr there is no end. We need to stop and meditate.
It is so hard to do something without trying to get something for it. How do you attain enlightenment without trying to attain enlightenment? Thinking about that moment of satori will actually prevent it from occurring.
Thinking about attaining something, displaces you from the present moment. When we think about what we want, we are assuming that there is a better time than right now. Now is the only time that we can wake up. Ding-Dong.
We tend to wish this for people when it is already a done deal. Your suffering is over, enjoy death.
It’s not too late for us. Embracing death is essential to a good life. Live like the corpse that your are. Rest in peace.
I love love.
You love love.
Who doesn’t love love?
People, who don’t love love, don’t love love.
People, who don’t love love, love love.
Love loves love.
My eight year old daughter comes into the room and says “Cock”.
“What?” my wife and I say.
“Cock” she says, “I get it. Cock, cock, cock, cock, cock.”
“What do you get?” we ask, innocently. I thought she said “caulk”.
“Cock” she said, “Cock-a-doodle-doo. A cock says cock-a-doodle-doo. I get it. Cock, a-doodle-doo. Get it? Cock, a-doodle-doo.”
“That’s sweet, Sweetiepie.”