I’m not a Buddhist. I’m not religious. I’m not even spiritual. (Which is something I think agnostics* feel compelled to claim at parties–and what’s that supposed to mean? “Nope, not really into God qua God, like, but I did have that really mystical experience at Burning Man, and also there was that time I let that Italian guy who was training to be a massage therapist align my chakras…” Or does it mean you believe in fairies and UFOs?) I have a bunch of Jack Kornfield mp3s and one time I met Noah Levine. That’s as close as I get. (I also have the Oxford Annotated Bible and the Louvin Brothers box set. Dilettante religiosity.)
Whatever. Believe what you want as long as it doesn’t involve waving a sign or killing anybody.** Or disagreeing with me.
Yesterday I was going through page after page of random scribblings in the default meetings/grocery lists/pithy or petty thoughts/quotes I will appropriate for the purpose of self-aggrandizement and I found this:
You can never will the truth to appear because the very act is based on a complete misunderstanding of the truth.
This is definitely not something I would ever come up with. It’s this Zen practitioner Brad Warner. There’s this Buddhist concept that I will not adequately explain because I’m lazy, called kensho, which is defined by some as “seeing into one’s nature.” I like this quote–it’s insightful. (Doesn’t it dovetail nicely with my fortune cookie the other day: “A man must be true to himself, even if that self is frightening and strange”? That is a fucking challenge, I see now.)
So, despite the impossibility of pinning Truth down, here are a few Truths for Thursday, September 24. Drivetime Three-for-Thursday Truths!
Things that irritate me:
- Junkies. Why are there so many junkies here all of a sudden? There are way more of them than a couple years ago, right? No? Possibly this is confirmation bias, since I keep ending up in neighborhoods with methadone clinics. Either way, they irritate me with their sidewalk scrums and their shambolic antics and their nonstop arguing and–goddammit–the ID card pouches around their necks. Please, God, don’t ever let me get to the point where I’m reduced to carrying all my important documents and cash around my neck. Is that it? Am I projecting? Do I fear the man I am to become?
- This week’s banana supply: OVERRIPE.
- And on a totally serious note: This poor woman was arrested in an altered state and released in the middle of the night with no transportation or ID. Then she went missing. Where is she? How come Annie Le made it into the LA Times but Mitrice Richardson’s disappearance isn’t in the NYT?
On a happier note, we have roughly 70 green tomatoes on the plants we brought inside. Beat the clock, tomato friends! And we have the Urinals, Don’t Make Me Kill Again. Ciao.
*I am not agnostic. Existential nihilist, baby!
**Actually, I have no objection to the death of my enemies, so gimme a call if you’d like that list.
Stroke me.
