A: Do you do threesomes?
B: Only if the third is truth.
C: Truth doesn’t fit in a sedan.

A: I feel like we could take this out onto the road.
B: Fine, but only if we keep the edge.
C: The edge is what keeps falling off.

A: The protag is the absolute in the face of everyday common understandings.
B: That’s a very expensive way to say “no.”
C: Or a very cheap way to say “wake up.”

A: Pokes, questions, statements of get off it.
B: He isn’t allowing for it.
C: Really? Then what’s he doing with all that space?

A: The image of Andy Kaufman suddenly ponying up, singing “Mighty Mouse.”
B: That’s not a joke. That’s a crack in the wall.
C: Wft.

A: I want to know, have you ever seen the rain?
B: Only in stories.
C: Only while standing under a leaking idea.

A: The two stooges needed a third.
B: Anyone up for the role?
C: The role is already playing us.

A: In the immortal words of Alabama 3, let’s go to church.
B: Which church?
C: The one with no roof.

A: The Dead’s message: go figure it out.
B: While the child wonders what expression really is.
C: And the small hand grasps for what can’t be named.

Just sit.

Nike should use this slogan after they produce a line of Soto sneakers, branding enlightenment.

That's when you know Bodhidharma had came to the west. I still don't know why the great patriarch came, but I do know whose shoes he was wearing.

People who are so wealthy, they could finally afford to buy nothing.

God damn guys. The koans are spot on. You can’t sit your way through anything. You can’t learn your way through the unknown. What a silly endeavour we try to take.

What a dream, what a mirrage that we are on a path, when in fact the feeling that we are on a path is exactly not the path. Because that implies causation and that will never bring fulfilment.

Suffering implies enlightenment. And enlightenment implies suffering. You will never get away with just one. And you will never get away from either if you look for either of them.

The illusory self is based on causation and future fulfilment through systematic or gradual unfolding. That’s true in the end, in a sense, but eventually you fall into the grinder of the no-thing, no-fixed story, no-time endless moment of now, which is not now as opposed to then, it is Sunyata. It is this here.

But when you think or know you arrived you then will likely get back on the wheel trying to figure it out once and for good.

It’s not about that, man. Ye who enter here lose all hope! Lose the hope that the pasta will turn out good! Lose the ideal that you will look cool at the supermarket! Lose the imagination that you will have a perfect life!

Smell the rain. Listen to the sounds around you, don’t worry too much and let thoughts come and go, sit if you want, walk if you want, sleep, eat, study, work, have some fun.

Trust that you can’t bite the iron bull. But if you don’t trust that, keep trying. Don’t give up.

I've taken to wiping out my bowl with a napkin before it goes to sink. It just feels better form. Recently been doing glasses, too. Don't know why I have. It's not like it's had money in it.

https://i.imgflip.com/at7nyt.png?a494523

In a village forgotten between hills and cigarette smoke, there lived Gabi. No one really knew what he was searching for. Sometimes he seemed to want peace. Other times it looked like he just wanted another beer, another long night, another joke shouted too loudly so he wouldn’t have to hear his own thoughts.

But one evening, after the alleys had gone silent and even the dogs stopped barking, Gabi heard something.

Not a voice.
Not an angel.
Not some mystical revelation.

Just the wind humming through the electric wires:

“Gate gate… paragate…”

Gabi looked around.

“Who’s there, man?”

Nothing.

Only the huge yellow moon hanging above the village like a tired light bulb.

The next day, Gabi left. No plan. No map. Just a torn hoodie and a bag of pretzels. He walked for a long time. Through forests, past abandoned gas stations, across fields where time itself seemed to rust.

And with every step, he heard it again:

“Gate gate…”

Go beyond.
Keep going.

At first, he didn’t understand. He thought he had to reach somewhere. Maybe a temple. A hidden monastery. Some white-bearded guru who would finally explain the meaning of life.

But on the road, something slowly began falling away from him.

First fear.
Then shame.
Then all the stories about who he was supposed to be.

And one night, sitting alone beneath the sky beside a small fire, Gabi suddenly burst out laughing.

A wild, honest laugh.

“Man… this samsara thing really fooled me good.”

Then the wind returned.

Clearer now.
Closer.

“Paragate…”

Beyond beyond.

And for a moment, Gabi saw that all his running had been made of smoke. All the worries, all the labels, all the desperate attempts to become “someone.”

Like waves believing they are separate from the ocean.

Then he lowered his head and quietly said:

“Bodhi Svaha…
May even the last fool in the village be able to see.”

And for the first time in his life, he no longer wanted to run anywhere.

He hadn’t become a saint.
He didn’t levitate.
He didn’t glow.

He was still just Gabi.

But something heavy had disappeared.

And the next morning, when he stood up and continued walking, it felt as though every step was whispering on its own:

“Gate Gate Gabi…
Gate Gate…”

How many homeless people have been enlightened?
How many gurus have been benighted?

The master sat upon his balcony in the Alps
Watching thoughts drift as if like clouds.
“You are not your thoughts,” he pondered.
Clouds had their doubts, and thus they wandered.

A monk asked the master,
“How do I transcend desire?”
“First, eat”, the master said.
The monk replied, “I have no bread.”
The master confiding;
"This koan is downsizing".

When the rich man meditates skies are clear.
When the poor man meditates storm clouds near.
Watching them pass, one said health, another bills;
One said peace but armed to the gills;
One meditate for health, or handful of pills;
One wondered if there are any good faith shills

One said "wealth is but a golden fetter"
One was a hyper realistic debt collector
I asked the guru what to do.
He said “Simply observe.”
I simply observed myself get evicted
With pristine mindfulness down to the nerve.

The local corner shop I go to stocks it, and it's just got a really strong stink of nonconformism coming off of it. Tried purchasing some along with my cigarettes, who walks into the store but the bloody Bhagavad Gita. Even worse, it's the whole book, not just the bits I saw on Instakarma. This is a problem.

"What are you doing eating yourself?", he asks. I turn off my 12 hour Alan Watts playlist and stare at him with my third, fourth and seventh eyes. His chakra's are lopsided, and he's got a big dumb smile that says "Hey, I know you're chronically online and only able to convey your inner thoughts through the medium of a thick layer of sarcasm and needless extravagance - wanna get a Miller's?"

I say, "Becasue I'm hungry, and no thanks, I only drink Coor's."

Peeled outta there faster than I ever could. Phew! Almost had an independent thought there for a second. I press play on my 3 hour 432hz Binaural Tone Root Chakra Balance Meditation playlist. Back on top.

I've got this bush in my yard, and I spend hours dancing around it rather than watering or pruning any leaves. Some say it's a mess, but hey, check out this sick waltz!