But You, O You, so Perfect and so Peerless, Are Created of Every Creature's Best!

Perhaps it is desirable to stop whatever quest or mission you are on and just enjoy the breath of life, the tingle of being. These complex tales of a life well lived or wasted are so compelling and ensnaring that the simple pleasure of consciousness is often overlooked. Whatever enticing form and quality, light and texture being seems to take, it is ever wondrous, ever fascinating, ever miraculous in its simple existence. Here you are; this is it; partake or deny, relish or resist it. This everlasting moment, always now, ever here, is its own sweet self before any thought judges it to be otherwise.

Always impossible to describe because it is simpler than description, usually elusive to the mind despite being all-pervasive; sometimes mistaken for a mirror of itself and often missed because its omnipresence defies observation, is simply what is. All the questing, longing, searching, missing, needing, emptiness, frustration, incompleteness and yearning for more are just crafty, mischievous stand-ins for This: the current guise, the fleeting quality. There is never ever anything that is not This.

Have fun trying to describe it; crawl into it, become it; you are it. What is aware of it, is it as well. Sink into despair and be it; rise into the helium of transformative joy. All is This; this is all. There is no need for anything to be other than it is, including the strong feeling that it should be otherwise.


This clip is the simply brilliant opening of the endlessly fun film, Pulp Fiction. Everything about it is fabulous; the casting of Amanda Plummer and Tim Roth; the dialogue, natural yet almost a parody of itself; the headlong progression from empirical discussion to sudden action; the juxtaposition of a sweet loving couple and a couple of ruthless bandits; Honey Bunny's vicious, unexpected transformation from timid and mousy to brutal and dangerous; and the technical brilliance of the segue from opening scene to titles, aided by the inspired choice of Misirlou, a Greek dance tune, by surf guitarist extraordinaire Dick Dale. Do more than enjoy it - be it!

As Ravenous Fishes, Do a Vessel Follow that Is New-trimm'd, but Benefit no Further than Vainly Longing.

There is no more point to going to a meeting of friends together, a satsang, or whatever we're calling it today than there is of anything else. It is all sound and fury, it all signifies nothing. Sometimes it's silence and comfort but nothing it still signifies. Perhaps presence with others is desirable, perhaps some mind-quelling understanding or brain-stilling space can be more easily discerned, but that then is the story of desirability or easy discernment or the usefulness of a still, unthinking mind. Some seekers of truth come away from such meetings concluding that no matter what the speaker says or does, it is pleasant to pass some hours and converse with like-minded friends and acquaintances. The contentedness of the speaker is somehow catching; the fact that whatever is, here, now, this very moment, seems to be more than enough for the speaker rubs off a little, and the seeker feels a little more satisfied with life. Is being satified with life the goal? Is there a goal?

Maybe there is some spontaneous brain-bending change of perception. Even if there is, when it is no longer, it is only a spark of memory. Whatever form this takes, it is the same essence. Boredom, hatred, love, hope, creation, murder; these are all the faces of the same nothingness that seemingly takes form. Feeling that endless longing for more, going to a meeting with a teacher, writing, blogging, reading, talking, grasping for the ever-elusive understanding of This: it is all This. Whatever is, is just what it is. It is as it is; it is as it must be.


Rarely is contentedness with life more apparent than when watching the genius of Peter Sellars and Blake Edwards. Fond memories arise of watching Pink Panther films on TV as a child, usually Saturday afternoon with the family. This Clouseau vs. Cato vignette is my favourite, from The Pink Panther Strikes Again. The comic use of slo-mo vocals, combined with brilliant editing (thank you Alan Jones), and perfectly timed physical comedy make this battle stand out. Finally, a nod to Burt Kwouk, just made an OBE for Services to Drama and second banana extraordinaire. Enjoy.


La panthère rose : Clouseau vs Cato
Uploaded by david1705ts14. - Classic TV and last night's shows, online.

I Did Steer Toward This Remedy, Whereupon We Are Now Present Here Together.

What is it that would make everything OK? What is it that is wrong? How can a change in the way things are become anything but - seemingly created over and over - the way things are? Consciousness detects reality, and reality can be interpreted infinitely. Conversely, consciousness is reality, and needs no interpretation...although there is no stopping the interpreting. Grief, discomfort, pain and fear, the feelings that are judged bad for the survival of the body and the continuation of the mind, need not be anything but what they are: twingling nerve endings that require no remedy. "What is" may seem to suck, but suckiness isn't necessarily to be avoided.

All these currents and eddies in the dreams and stories of unfolding life are as of nothing at all. Each revelatory solution to the problem of existence begets another quandary...yet the problems needing solved are also what is; there is nothing wrong with what is. However important or urgent the circumstances of life are, these circumstances are as of nothing at all. There truly is no one that needs things to be anything other than what they are . Those thoughts and feelings of emptiness and unfulfillment just the noise and flurry of the moment. Creation manifests nearly infinitely, and infinity needs each and every perfect existent manifestation to be its perfect self.

The clip today is a tender scene from The Birdcage, which has so many genius moments it warrants watching over and over. I would have loved to post the sequence where Armand (Robin Williams) desperately tries to detain Albert (Nathan Lane) from going back to their apartment, which is having a "straight" makeover to please the conservative parents of Armand's son Val's fiance (Calista Flockhart in a pre-Ally McBeal role). However, this scene, where Armand finally reveals the depth of his feelings for Albert, is remarkable for both its intensity and restraint. The unfolding story can be really, really lovely.