Who's Afraid of a Little Enlightenment?
"Looks like you've got some fans," I said.
The buddha chuckled slightly. "You knew that before. Took you a while to mention it."
"Well, you weren't around, so why would it matter?"
"In other words, it let you procrastinate. Like you're doing right now."
"Sure, why not. But apparently there's something worthwhile to decipher from our conversations. And here I thought I was being blunt."
"Or mental, arguing with yourself."
I shrugged. "Nah, if that was the case, there'd be a bunch of other people here too. Instead of just a California Fortune Cookie."
That made him chuckle too. Some people are so hard to goad. "You're procrastinating again. And I thought you liked Arabic."
"I do. But other things seem so much amazingly more important when you have something you should be doing. Especially things that take practice. Hey, I know my habits."
"Then if you dislike them, change them," he said, in that mystical tone people use.
I looked over at him, nonplussed. "How much do you know about neurochemistry?"
He opened one eye. "As much as you do. Which would be just enough to get in trouble."
"At least trouble's interesting. And it'd give me something to write about. So," I said, changing the subject, "What about that challenge, about being more practical and smarter?"
He closed his eye again. "If there's one thing you've learned from Kung Fu movies and anime, it's that the old oriental guy is the guy whom with you do not want to fuck."
"A) You're not old. B) You're not even oriental. C) It's not a kung fu fight."
"That's just how your brain interprets my presence, for the ease of your own psyche," he said.
"Thanks, Cthulhu. Lemme guess, all buddhas are really one, since everything's just an illusion, anyway?"
He opened his eyes and leaned casually against the wall. "Eh, close enough. Though we're really all none, not one, but we hang around here to enlighten people because we're nice."
"That give me an idea for a slogan. 'Buddhism: Nothing's Sacred.' Ba dum dum."
He laughed, a lot louder than it really deserved. He looked a lot like a laughing Buddha statue then. Except, y'know, surfer-ey-er. I let him laugh, 'cause frankly, I'd kinda forgotten the point of what we were talking about. If there'd been one, which I kinda doubt.
"Shouldn't you be a bit harder to amuse, what with the whole ancient wisdom thing?"
"Perspective. Much of life's a lot funnier than people give it credit for."
"Tragedy's when I cut my finger, comedy is when you fall down an open sewer hole and die? Isn't that a little crude? Shouldn't you be teaching, I dunno, something"
"There is no teacher who can teach us anything new, simply reveal to us what we already knew."
He'd even LOOKED like he was quoting when he said it. "Thanks, Enigma. But that's kinda, y'know, completely untrue. And I think you misquoted it."
He shrugged. He had several shrugs, but this one didn't really say anything. "Not for me. Unless you know something on some level, I don't know it. This looks like ping pong, but it's really a self-deceiving solo game of racquetball."
It was really the hand motions that made it work. You had to be there. "So much for the fourth wall," I said, "Can we climb outside the panels now and peek ahead to make sure we get the right widget to defeat the boss? Only I can't draw that well."
"Then maybe you should practice."
He wasn't really talking about drawing. "Yeah, I guess. Especially since I have to work in the morning. And I've slacked off practicing most of the weekend."
"What, you thought I was talking about Arabic?" he asked.
These are the voyages of the... wait, wrong intro:
Stories from the Rabbit Hole
Stories from the Rabbit Hole, Part 2
There's a Buddha on My Bed
A Discussion of Procrastination and Buddhism
Buddhablog
Haven't Seen Him in a While
The Illusion of Pain
Stuff that Binds
The Joy of Scrubdom
More About Failure
Book Reviews with a Buddha
Tags: Rabbit Hole, Mindscribbles
The buddha chuckled slightly. "You knew that before. Took you a while to mention it."
"Well, you weren't around, so why would it matter?"
"In other words, it let you procrastinate. Like you're doing right now."
"Sure, why not. But apparently there's something worthwhile to decipher from our conversations. And here I thought I was being blunt."
"Or mental, arguing with yourself."
I shrugged. "Nah, if that was the case, there'd be a bunch of other people here too. Instead of just a California Fortune Cookie."
That made him chuckle too. Some people are so hard to goad. "You're procrastinating again. And I thought you liked Arabic."
"I do. But other things seem so much amazingly more important when you have something you should be doing. Especially things that take practice. Hey, I know my habits."
"Then if you dislike them, change them," he said, in that mystical tone people use.
I looked over at him, nonplussed. "How much do you know about neurochemistry?"
He opened one eye. "As much as you do. Which would be just enough to get in trouble."
"At least trouble's interesting. And it'd give me something to write about. So," I said, changing the subject, "What about that challenge, about being more practical and smarter?"
He closed his eye again. "If there's one thing you've learned from Kung Fu movies and anime, it's that the old oriental guy is the guy whom with you do not want to fuck."
"A) You're not old. B) You're not even oriental. C) It's not a kung fu fight."
"That's just how your brain interprets my presence, for the ease of your own psyche," he said.
"Thanks, Cthulhu. Lemme guess, all buddhas are really one, since everything's just an illusion, anyway?"
He opened his eyes and leaned casually against the wall. "Eh, close enough. Though we're really all none, not one, but we hang around here to enlighten people because we're nice."
"That give me an idea for a slogan. 'Buddhism: Nothing's Sacred.' Ba dum dum."
He laughed, a lot louder than it really deserved. He looked a lot like a laughing Buddha statue then. Except, y'know, surfer-ey-er. I let him laugh, 'cause frankly, I'd kinda forgotten the point of what we were talking about. If there'd been one, which I kinda doubt.
"Shouldn't you be a bit harder to amuse, what with the whole ancient wisdom thing?"
"Perspective. Much of life's a lot funnier than people give it credit for."
"Tragedy's when I cut my finger, comedy is when you fall down an open sewer hole and die? Isn't that a little crude? Shouldn't you be teaching, I dunno, something"
"There is no teacher who can teach us anything new, simply reveal to us what we already knew."
He'd even LOOKED like he was quoting when he said it. "Thanks, Enigma. But that's kinda, y'know, completely untrue. And I think you misquoted it."
He shrugged. He had several shrugs, but this one didn't really say anything. "Not for me. Unless you know something on some level, I don't know it. This looks like ping pong, but it's really a self-deceiving solo game of racquetball."
It was really the hand motions that made it work. You had to be there. "So much for the fourth wall," I said, "Can we climb outside the panels now and peek ahead to make sure we get the right widget to defeat the boss? Only I can't draw that well."
"Then maybe you should practice."
He wasn't really talking about drawing. "Yeah, I guess. Especially since I have to work in the morning. And I've slacked off practicing most of the weekend."
"What, you thought I was talking about Arabic?" he asked.
These are the voyages of the... wait, wrong intro:
Stories from the Rabbit Hole
Stories from the Rabbit Hole, Part 2
There's a Buddha on My Bed
A Discussion of Procrastination and Buddhism
Buddhablog
Haven't Seen Him in a While
The Illusion of Pain
Stuff that Binds
The Joy of Scrubdom
More About Failure
Book Reviews with a Buddha
Tags: Rabbit Hole, Mindscribbles