I’m in a hurry, on my way to prison all day. I haven’t written about it, but the civilians at the women’s prison where I run a weekly workshop have been giving me a hard time. It seems they feel that I’m getting too much shine and exposing their incompetence and apathy for what it is. It’s a shame, because I can’t continue to justify spending my organization’s resources if I can’t even get into the prison.
For weeks I show up and my security clearance, which is supposed to be handled by the idiot who runs the prison side of the program, isn’t there and I’m not able to get into the prison.
Last week, he tried to say I don’t show up, but I have a paper trail showing otherwise. I blew him up in front the Big Dawg. He shouldn’t have messed with me. It’s about the women and unfortunately they’re the ones that get the short end of the stick. I will most likely do a workshop at a state-run women’s facility where I know the director of programs.
Why is it that the most incompetent boot lickers seem to get the important positions?
I’m tired today and I can’t seem to get into a writing groove. For those that meditate, this is what it’s all about…for too many people, meditation is just another way to reinforce that incessant thinking. It’s a madness, I tell you!
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“The fear of letting go prevents you from letting go of the fear of letting go.”
This is the doctrine at the heart Buddhism. You see, my dear reader, it goes this way: you are a rag-tag collection of coincidences held together by a desperate and irrational clinging.
There is no center – no center at all.
Everything depends on everything else, your body depends on the ecology, your thoughts depend on whatever conditioned debris floats in from the media, your emotions are mostly from the reptilian end of your DNA.
Your intellect, dear reader, is chemical computer that can’t add up a zillionth as fast as a pocket calculator. Even your best side is a superficial piece of social conditioning that will fall apart as soon as the object of your affection leaves, or the economy fails and you get the sack, or you get conscripted into some village idiot’s war, or they give you the news about your brain tumor, or your consigned to live in Armpit, USA.
To name this combination of self-pity, vanity, and despair self is not only the height of conceit, it is also proof that we’re a trulydeluded species.
We are in a trance from birth to death. Burst the balloon and what are you left with?
It’s not only us – this radical doctrine applies to the whole sentient world. Dependent origination is not exactly everyone’s cup of tea, I’ll admit that much. Nevertheless, it does have a compelling point: stop for two steps, still yourself, listen – in other words, desist with the mental masturbation – and you will find yourself on a planet you no longer recognize. Those needs and fears you thought were the very foundation of your existence turn out to be no more than bugs in your software…