"So, then, make you whole body a mass of doubt, and with your three hundred sixty bones and joints and eighty-four thousand hair follicles, concentrate on this one word, Mu. Day and night, keep digging into it. Don't consider it to be nothingness. Don't think in terms of "has" or "has not." It is like swallowing a red hot iron ball. You try to vomit it out, but you can't."
[From Wu-Men's comment on the Chao-Chou's Dog Koan.]
Or if you'd prefer that in musical form, click here.
9 comments:
There is a sudden image in my mind of Jim with teeth the same size, shape and texture as Rice Krispies...
Cocoa Krispies?
Keep dem lips together, Jim.
That does make sense. A sort of pre-Freudian Freudian slip.
If he wasn't a big dog-fan, his meowing would both express his allegiance to the cat-world, as well as supplying the appropriate nonsense required to create a Koan.
I think you've cracked it, Kay!
I'm thinking interesting things about 'snap-crackle 'n pop"
Hi there! Very interesting blog!
I don't know what all the other comments are about but i love the idea of calling death "Jim" That certainly takes the sting out of it.
Oh Jim, where is thy sting?"
Haha. You're right. Jim would be the perfect name for death. But no, Jim, dear handmaiden is the golden-haired boy, not the chess-playing killer.
Funnily enough, Jim kinda is the death of me at the moment, but not in an obvious heart-stopping, lung-collapsing way.
Death is a chess playing killer...
As the episcopalian said, "I do know the difference between a Bishop & a King."
does death also chessbox?
so, wait, if jim is the death of you, then at least you're getting laid? and eating cereal?
i really don't think i'm smart enough to be a regular reader of your blog
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and I slept over that sexy Flikr girl's house last night. She made me a Japanese breakfast in the morning. Not sure how that relates, but I'm sure you can string something together.
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