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jruit :: 40 |
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It's been three months since I've been here. Today is July 31, 2015. When you stand down by the Pacific Ocean on a rough day and smoke a cigarette, it's kind of a joke. I mean a part of you knows you should be able to sense the nicotine coursing through your bloodstream, but the sheer overwhelming impressions of breaking surf, shorebirds darting down to catch food blowing bubbles from the sands following swift retreating waves, and children running up and diving into steep oncoming waves pretty much reduces the cigarette experience to zilch. It's like, why even bother? For months now I've been preparing a thermonuclear explosion. I keep giving out cards for my website, and no one even nibbles. Not a soul. It hardly matters. When they do nibble, it's going to be essentially the world before redsbluescafe.com, and the world after. And all this time I've been practicing running energy up from my belly, up behind my head on the right-hand side, across the nape of my neck to the left-hand side, then back down to my belly. It's essentially a point-down triangle being transversed inside my torso in a counterclockwise direction. There are variations to this circular pattern, (which my mind points out to me, as I'm breathing in rhythm to this attention-transversing exercise) sometimes taking a slightly lower route across the small of my back, right-to-left, then swinging up across my forehead and right smack into a point between my eyes. It's a serpent-like path, and I'm beginning to understand the point between my eyes as a correspondence to what's known in Eastern mysticism as the Pearl Beyond Price. A Zen master in my taxicab about five days ago solved a little problem I've been having with a certain kind of mind-invading bully, who specializes in having another person (Me!) under their thumb. There's a certain thought, the Japanese (and Indian) fellow pointed out (inside me!), which when I hold that thought, creates a poison-pill for any overbearing invader. Essentially the thought is an insult to the guy's family. People do enter other people's minds, and it's a wonderful skill to know how to throw them the fuck out! The Zen guy, though ... he can enter my mind anytime at all. Reason being, he actually knows what he's doing. |
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