Underground Oz Poetry     ozpoetry.hopto.org/news

by rayn Wednesday, Feb 5 2020, 10:15pm
international / prose / post

it took a very long time to polish this mirror clean, without a spec, and create this lens through which all appears as it is, without distortion or tint.

indeed, to see freely is to see, what use are blind wide open eyes that see only themselves in everything, an example is required here. Take for instance a lecture delivered by an appropriately robed tibetan nun, a Rimpoche no less -- mentally enslaved westerners flock to these 'gurus' in the VAIN hope that they actually know something of worth, and after listening they imagine they have learned something; well, in actuality they should have, namely that every, without exception, ochre or red robed teacher from the east is full of shit! how dare I make such a bold, all encompassing statement, well remember the CLEAN mirror and perfect lens that SEE?

of [the] course, as all tibetan buddhists are trained to do, the lecture revolved around, “happiness,” which term is defined by its binary opposite, sadness or misery; so here I now offer you the clear words of old Lao -- excuse the tautology for those that speak mandarin – who allegedly encoded/wrote the Tao: “if not for the NOTION of good there would be no evil, if not for the notion of beauty there would be no ugliness,” etc. Lao was aware of the trap of linguistic binary oppositions two and a half millennia before arrogant french academics imagined they discovered or invented it, truly there is nothing new under the sun in the affairs of men/CULTURE. So what is happiness outside misery which defines it by contrast, it dissolves into meaninglessness as it must have its binary opposite to give it meaning, the two terms are mutually bound/inclusive, you can't have one without the other, so if you entertain the notion of happiness you must also know sadness; both are polar opposites bound eternally in conflict/opposition, as Lao puts it, and he certainly was not in error like so many ignorant/fraudulent robed gurus are today.

and so went the lecture, using of course the lexicon of tibetan buddhism to define all its erroneous notions and constructs, until the blame for misery was attributed to “samsara,” a buddhist term derivative of the hindu concept, 'maya' or illusion, which for the most part escapes interpretation by westerners, and clearly tibetan nuns, it seems.

Now the humorous aspect of the lecture. The clearly deluded Rimpoche was recognising and attributing power to samsara as if it were real, Not illusion or misinterpretation – LOL. samsara and/or maya by definition, in context, are NOT real, and deductively have no power or anything else; however, mindless westerners were being trained to accept samsara as a real power or force that brings them undone and prevents 'happiness;' the lecture was becoming more convoluted by the minute -- it clearly was a case of the blind leading the blind into a pit.

the above is one point made, But have you ever considered how you take language for granted?

you're reading this without conscious awareness that you are enslaved by language (culture) via the decoding/interpretive process which entraps mind, as that process (decoding) eliminates the discriminative process until one ceases to read or decode, which observation should tell you that ALL languages LIE by their very nature as no word, sentence or linguistic whatever is able to capture an event or reality. language is one long step AWAY from reality, it only names things and what's in a name? “a rose by any other name ..” etc. ALL phenomena/on escape capture by language and so all cultures live in a multitude of fictions, and there is no escaping this reality except by awareness/CLARITY.

nevertheless language is essential for passing the salt at dinner etc and in that practical vein I recall, a simple, well known philosophical adage: 'Those who speak do not know, and those who know do not speak.' But who am I to talk? – LOL.

have a nice deluded day.

Underground Oz Poetry. http://ozpoetry.hopto.org/news/poem-992.html