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Magic & Mystery in Tibet - Alexandra David-Neel
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Books
- Hits: 1643
Now this is great. This is travel literature. For a variety of reasons, which I'll illuminate below:
1) She's speaking of a place that has disappeared. The Tibet she has traveled was razed to the ground by the Chinese in the 1950's, what we have left are only travelers accounts, myths and cheap reproductions.
2) She talks of the miracles she witnesses - the thought projection, creation of doppelgangers, telepathy, internal combustion and other mysteries with some skepticism and common sense. And she reports many of these things as first hand experiences, not just relaying stories.
3) She interprets what she sees without prejudice and with (for the time) a fine balance of common sense skepticism and open-mindedness. You can't ask for more.
4) She illuminates you as to the 99% of Tibetan Buddhist dark magic and beliefs that somehow escaped export to a gullible western public. It's worth knowing, if only so that you can laugh in the face of the next "enlightened" white yogi who tries it on with his chanting of the "on-no-ma-ne-pad-me-ohm..".
And if she's somehow exaggerated or embellished her tales and interpretation of the events, who can blame her? It makes for a far far better story.
Completely Unrelated
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2447
And, on the last few pages of "The Heptameron" I'm stricken with inspiration.
Stricken, I say, because it's not so uncommon, these fits, and I hastily grab a pen and paper (conveniently beside me) to make my notes.
Like always, there's 90% of the project, the idea, the painting, play or novel, done. But the remaining 10% is as elusive as ever, and I marvel at how completely unrelated it is. I mean, the inspiration vs the book I'm reading, vs the paintings I'm painting, vs the dreams I'm dreaming and the company I'm keeping, it's completely unrelated. So I make my notes and puzzle on how to complete it, to be added to the hundreds of notebooks of things begun and left unfinished.
***
Today, in the mail "Magic and Mystery in Tibet", I've been waiting for it. And at exactly the right time, as I finish up my book. This looks promising.
***
The boy wants me to attend his parent-teacher interview. Partly because he's done well, partly because he's hoping it'll explain his social awkwardness. The teachers have nothing bad to say and I'm careful to act the role of the concerned and normal parent. He's shocked I can pull it off, but I tell him: "You're not the only one who's studied drama...", and to make matters worse his teachers now mention my carefully "carelessly" dropped comments about his taste for death-heavy-metal, Marilyn Manson posters and dark basements; they "know" him now and he's furious that he's not winning any sympathy...
***
Trade my books in to Fairs-Fair on 17th Ave. 7 books yields me enough credit for 1 paperback. A 7 to 1 profit margin. But Fair's-Fair.
***
And there are the paintings I'm doing for Christmas - everyone gets a painting whether they want it or not. I don't ask because I know what the answer would be. At first there was some thought of doing portraits, but I decided against it, time and talent prohibit that investment, instead I'll do their dogs. The boy, he's seen the rhinoceros in the kitchen, he cautions me against it "You're animals aren't so good, you know dad, remember that bull in the kitchen..." "Rhinoceros" I correct him; "And my animals are just fine, haven't you looked at my people?".
The combined weight of small things
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2097
An 8:10 appointment at the dentist.
And I'm up at 6:00 AM, just to be safe, leave the house at 7:30 to allow for traffic. You don't want to be late for the dentist.
Outside, still dark, cold, go to scrape the windows. Open door, close door, drivers side window explodes. Completely explodes.
This is a 2008 VW Rabbit, if you're curious.
Now I'm annoyed, more than annoyed, and I'm late, so I think of calling my dentist to cancel (but you pay regardless) and so I hastily sweep the glass up off the street, throw a leather coat on the seat so I don't get cut on the broken glass, and make my dentist appointment only 10 minutes late.
Then home, call the dealership. "How did this happen?" I ask, because I'm curious, in almost 30 years of driving I've never seen the spontaneous explosion of a car window. They don't know. But it will be around $700 to fix. And I have to drive out and prepay for the part to be ordered.
I'm in a bit of a rage, really. Since taking on my unemployment the single biggest expense has been this fucking car. $500.00 to repair the hail damage, and I didn't drive it for 3 weeks. Now $700.00 + maintenance for another act of God (or shitty engineering by Volkswagen). All told I calculate with all expenses considered it's about $100.00 every fucking time I get into this car, and I'm not making the payments. I should really entomb the car in glass and go back to the restaurant to make payments on it. It's my own private Juggernaut, the unaffordable symbol of crap western manufacture and crass commercialism. It's not worth driving because, frankly, even working 18 hours a day I couldn't afford the freaking expense.
Now to the carwash to try and vacuum out the ten million shards of glass that litter the car seat and floor, buy some plastic to tape over the window (because this won't be repaired anytime soon), go and prepay for the window to be ordered...
So begins my day.
Aunt Madge
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1592
I'm running after "Bunny", the lead CSI, we've found the car, a crumpled folded picnic table and her trailer and we think we might be onto something.
We're looking for Auntie Madge. She'd disappeared some while ago, met an unsavory end with a serial killer or something, but still there were reports of her car being seen here and there; the northern states, Montana, Oregon, and now, finally, here, at the end of this cul-de-sac surrounded by high trees.
There's a broken fence and Bunny's running towards it, I'm following, there's a few missing planks, it's broken up and weathered and we go through the holes and run up a long driveway and there's an old hotel, decrepit, ancient.
It has the air of a once-great hotel, but that's long passed, and Bunny is running down the halls, through a courtyard, and we're at the desk.
It's the Hotel Renfrew. There's an old guy, balding, fat, sweaty at the desk, leaning back in his chair and smoking. Bunny asks about Aunt Madge and he answers, directs us down the hall and I'm surprised, it seems almost too good to be true that she'd be alive and staying here in the middle of nowhere, we go down the halls and find her room.
Inside there's a younger lady, late 30's or early forties, in jeans and a black bra. And there's Aunt Madge as well, older, in the same black bra and jeans. They weren't expecting us. The younger lady, she has one breast, small and round, the size of a tennis ball. And the other is huge and round, like a cantaloupe, I can't help but notice. And then she turns towards me and I see there's a third breast, again small and round like a tennis ball, and it somehow balances everything out. I notice Aunt Madge now, she's got 3, maybe 4 breasts all scattered around her chest and belly and she's telling Bunny that they disappeared because of the taboo, they just wanted to be themselves, and I'm wondering if the taboo was on their obvious lesbian relationship or on their multiplicity of breasts....
The man at the front desk now, he's telling us about a cleansing ceremony the Buddhists will be doing on Dead Island, I ask where that is and he gestures off towards the south, "But you won't find anything, it's all gone now.." and I guess, infer somehow, that the history of this hotel has the midwives abandoning the many teated children of this area to the elements on the island, but they don't want to discuss it.
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