My darling Jack Bodhisattva Will save the world Cannot be free Till all creatures are free Bringing everyone with you This is the delivery Why the shooter Why do we love the murderer When we have no choice We have no choice Realisation is the start and our own conviction
Author archives: pasdelasbas
hearing
I’m in another room where You can’t hear me if you could then I wouldn’t be here I’d be there with You I might have been telling You about me My life and its end as it is it is yours so I’m in a room where You can’t hear me but when I come …
I saw you this day, man with a ponytail and beard, whose face I should have recognised, talking in a language I’m learning. I thought suddenly automatic your words, apprentice automaton that I am. My eyes like a breeze and you blink, slow down and glance beside me. Briefly, the air settled, my mind your …
😘
You aim for the highest ideal. But that becomes defacto your judge. So you decide you don’t want to be judged. That you don’t head for the highest ideal. This has repercussions through entropy and foolishness that will lead to suffering.
consumers and producers
Talking to Melissa can be a very rich experience. Depends on what you bring to it. Depends on how well you can listen. I was talking to Melissa whilst we were watching some dross on her television in her room at the care home. Of course the dross was passionately interesting because it was very …
Back gardens
So the spring has arrived finally. After one of the coldest early springs I can remember it’s finally warmed up. That’s coincided with what might well be some sort of biological need for spring cleaning. In particular I’m thinking at the moment about the drive I’ve got to clear my lovely back garden. I remember …
Gadjo Dilo
A friend of mine, Miroslav, just the other day posted a link to a short scene from a film titled “Gadjo Dilo”. It was a couple of minutes of footage of some Romanian Roma musicians playing and singing in a cafe, a young woman dancing whilst a young man recorded an audio tape of the …
missing the bus
“It’s some thing connected to meaning. An oblique waking up. Or a guilty secret. An automatic self disgust. Â There are whole sets of impulses that have pushed me. Chemically induced ones. Natural body exuberances and later self-inflicted. Â I just can’t capture anything about this in words. It’s about meaning. A really joyful sitting with, walking …
pushy puritans
I was at a Church of England service today. Two services in fact, the first a “traditional” service culminating in communion, the second a “family” service. Both had a sermon at their heart. The readings for the day upon which the sermons reflected were taken from Isaiah 40, 1-11 and from Mark 1, 1-8. The …