Solo Start And No Topic

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Welcome back to another episode of the World Through the Nice podcast. I'm Young and Sunim flying solo today, being that Dr. Lambert is tied up figuratively. Also, on the account that there hasn't been any questions or suggestions of topics arriving from our listening audience, I haven't really a thing to say, frankly. As unbelievable as it may seem. Without a topic, I thought perhaps some musings in form of some of my writings. A treat. Perhaps a treat the way that a cooked Brussels sprouts wrapped in a Rocher wrapping is a treat. Perhaps that kind of treat. One section being my rants. And it's sort of catch-all in terms of theme and topic. And the other the world to Zen eyes, a little bit more focused on spirituality than things of that nature. And so the absence of topic perhaps this is the only point of contact or connection or tie-in to something even resembling remotely resembling anything having to do with this particular podcast. So the world through Zen Eyes, some poetry from that collection of my very few writings actually. Let's see. We'll start with I believe what was my first poem ever written. Called The Beast of Time. Every tick of the clock is a heartbeat of the beast of time. Painfully loud the roar of its hunger getting closer and closer to devour you. It knows no mercy for the weak or frail, no respect for the rich or powerful. Its every step shakes your world, reaffirming your impermanence. Its stench you can smell in the burning bodies of the dead. With every heartbeat its veins pump suffering greater than that of the entire world. Is your hair standing on end yet? Does fear wrench your gut? If it does not, you're a fool. The wise waste no time. How can you indulge in the trivial pursuits of this life while each sting of time binds your soul for lifetimes to come? Heed the warning of the coming of the beast. Do not waste time on sleep, on empty conversations, on the pursuits of the joys of fools. There is a treasure beyond the walls of greed, anger and ignorance, a treasure for which there is no unworthy sacrifice. You and you alone hold the key, but it is also you who guards its gates. It is a riddle which when solved offers freedom from pain, suffering and death. Until you have solved it, you are nothing but a shadow of yourself. And as I read it, I could see the novitiate, the immaturity when it comes to outlook on life. And perhaps needed, but something that must be graduated from, something that must be surpassed, something that must be transcended eventually, which is a distaste for the world in a sense. It's some kind of um sometimes even disgust with the empty conversations and the minutiae of the day-to-day and the nine to five and the social milieu, the this, the that, and the other. Um there's a need for it. I think it sort of serves serves as an impetus, as some direction, some motivation perhaps to to seek something other than. But it also is a dangerous trap, I think, where one can get stuck in. And I don't believe that it is from that point and that perspective, from that viewpoint of existence that one can move forward in one's spiritual pursuits. I think there's a healthy need for a understanding of the transience and therefore compare to something greater and more loftier in terms of spiritual goals.

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But it needs to be balanced.

Beauty In The Mundane

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One cannot scoff at life, one cannot discount the fact that the symbol of Buddhism for one, being the lotus flower, uh it speaks to very similar concept. It is from this muck um stank and filth and and really this this disgusting, if you will, mud of the bottom of the lake, that this beautiful lotus flower grows. And we have to realize the fact that if it weren't for this mud, with all of its perhaps um nestiness or stank or whatever, it all of these things are actually the nutrient for the flower to be able to bloom. So without that, the flower doesn't exist, and that's why we say no mud, no lotus. If life with all that it brings, um is not there, enlightenment therefore would not be possible. And so this beast of time, it's a it's a very um juvenile spirituality uh coming out of it with the uh kind of uh youthful excitement and rally cry to we must do and um yeah. These are not in any chronological order, by the way. Um and to perhaps to balance that let's go with a little poem entitled Mundane T Leaf A Flower Blade of Grass A Child, its eye wide open t a bird song an empty bottle thrown tick. Listen They're eternal hymns of life listen, they'll teach you all you need to know. There is beauty in the mundane. The Buddhas of past, present and future live here, here and now. No need to run away into the mountains. No need to complicate things. All is as it needs to be. Enjoy a little bit of a different uh vibe out of this one.

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Let's see.

Monk’s Robe And Service

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And there are some more philosophical and some more um see okay. Monk's robe. I look at this robe with my flesh eye. I see it and it's beautiful. I feel it and it's light as a feather. I hear it and it's like a mountain breeze. I look at this robe with my soul's eye. I feel it, and it's heavier than iron. This robe is the weight of the world on my shoulders. With it one must clothe and shelter those who are naked and cold. With it one must wipe the tears of sorrow and suffering. This robe is a banner of peace and freedom. Listen, it sings the words of the Buddha Free, free may all be free.

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Let's see. Perhaps something out of the rants section. Ah, okay.

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This is called Entangled Minds. You start by reading Milton, and you don't even recall Ericsson's induction. Next thing you know, you're stuck in Jung's dream, misbehaving like an adler toddler, upset with Father Freud because Nietzsche killed God, but it's Dante who's in hell screaming Itubrute. Dracula drinks his fill, while nailed to a cross you cry, Father, why have you forsaken me? The church bell rings as Pavlov salivates, 'cause Smurfet has a forbidden crush on a mantahue. Oedipus wears Captain Hook's eye patch 'cause David had only one rock. Goliath goes blind having seen Hitler with Paris in a tantric embrace at the Hilton. You die at Sodom and Gomora and are reborn at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The mushroom cloud bitten by Alice is for sale on eBay. Pocahontas and Michael Jackson cover blanket with a blanket. Don Quixote is on psychotropic meds works at Taco Bell because Sancho lost 50 pounds on the subway diet. Dan King sponsors the fight between Cupid and William Tell. You stay up all night, order a scene on TV, FedEx yourself, Pandora's box, watch a PBS special as Michelangelo paints the Tajma Hall with Hindu symbols while the Everlast Bunny steals batteries from Van Gogh's hearing aid, who's at Alcatraz for killing Dumbo in the jealous rage. Gandhi is on a killing spree. He shot Cheney in the elbow and killed Lennon with Kennedy's bullet. Lewinsky is getting turned on by Pinocchio's lies all this while Bush rides off into the Santa sunset on the calf Moses forbade to worship. Weird being that I am here by myself, Musang Dr. Lambert not being here. And kind of just throwing these things out into what then will be written out in the annals of the interwebs.

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Let's see.

Merciless Children And Mother Earth

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Great adventure Life is an adventure. Just the other morning, upon waking I found myself staring into a face of monstrosity, its eyes beady, staring back at me, only two of the seven hideous holes it had in its head, flanked by soft gel like horns, a wind tunnel, not one but two, repulsive, hollowing and wheezing, the whole thing culminating in a gaping snarl with the wiggly snake peeking from its dark abyss. A bed dream, perhaps? I try to wash it away hoping to wake from its nightmare. Life is an adventure. Having survived this sobering experience, no longer than a few short minutes I find myself under siege once again. Fearing that they might have underestimated me, they gang up on me a particular creature with two bellies, but only one single mouth, grabbed me by my legs, wrestled me to the floor, and began to devour me from the bottom up. As if almost uncued, the other one leaped high into the air and in a single swoop engulfed my upper torso. The gloomy darkness of its bosom gave me the chills. Thankfully the dumb beast didn't know its own limitations, and I found myself emerging well out its other end. Life is an adventure. While still on the floor, shaken up by the events of my early morning, I began to fear the worst. It's not over. As if by command of my own thought, a black snake wraps its stretchy jaws first around my toes, then my heel up to my ankle, and just when I think that Monday's morning can't get any worse, it all gets even more disturbing. Now they turn on each other. The black snake suffocating my feet are swallowed up by yet another monster, an eel looking thing, mouth gaping open, clamps down on my ankle and begins to choke my foot with its long tentacles. Life is an adventure, terrified with exhilaration of life's ability to ambush me with its undiscovered realms lying beyond that which meets the eye, and now fully dressed. I walk out the door anxious at what life might throw at me next, because life is an adventure. This next one, perhaps the last one mustn't go on forever and ever here. Okay, let's go with merciless children before we do a last one. Merciless children beaten by our footsteps, beaten like the drums of war is the skin of great mother. Beaten yet she cries out not. She suffers in silence as we drain her veins of life. Merciless children, ignorant, for that which gives life and sustains life once lifeless can give no more. What then? The full moon's gape mouth screams until exhausts itself into a new moon's silence. The cry falls on deaf ears, yet mother forgives. But who will forgive when the great mother is gone? Mercerish children ignorant learn to love before her warmth is no more.

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Okay, we'll finish with the end of the

Send Questions And Farewell

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The story behind this one is uh funny. We were uh we had just opened uh the Zen Center, and we were in Warren at the time, and in our efforts to try and get the word out, uh we started putting out a little ad in the Natural Awakenings, the little newspaper magazine that you find at like Whole Foods and uh other supermarkets. And so uh I had in my email list the email for the two ladies who were the editors, and um somehow, and to this day I have no idea how uh an email was sent out and uh simply it said F. Um this email from from my email address to uh the uh um the editor and the owner of this of this thing of this magazine. Um and an email comes back uh with a question mark, um what? And and and so uh explaining that I have no idea what happened here um seemed a little dry and so out of it came this piece called the F word The F word Far forgotten freedom failed, fizzled from fame, finds fathers, females frivolously flinging fallacies, finding faults, forgetting feelings, favoring frowns, frantic five fingered fists fly, foe forged from failed friend, fights fought, fragmented families fallen from firmament, financially focused firms fund famine for free, finding fulfillment from fiscal fallacies, females forced to fornicate, failed fetuses found, flattened forests, fish flowing from filth, famished fox fleas from forest, farm fowl fights ferocious fangs, fleas feed from fur, foxes feed from fowl, folks fight foxes for fur, freedom far from found. For a favorable future, forgive, forget, frolic frequently, furnish flowers, forgo frivolous feuds, forge friend from find fearless, find fresh future flowing from friendship for felicity for freedom. Alright Enough of this torture to do, please, please send us topics or questions you would like answered or muddled. If you'd like to sell or find yourself more confused than you already are, please help us do so. Until then, take care of yourselves and each other. I'm young Ansenim.