My Away Message
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My kids keep me a little up to date. Not a lot, but a little. So I listen to Radiohead (How to Disappear Completely - That there, that's not me . . . I walk through walls . . . I'm not here . . . This isn't happening . . . In a little while, I'll be gone . . . The moment's already passed . . . Yeah, it's gone . . . Strobe lights and blown speakers . . . Fireworks and hurricanes . . . I'm not here) and communicate with them using Instant Messaging. They leave away messages for friends to find when they are away from the computer and scold me for leaving my account logged in with no away message. When I come back my screen is sometimes littered with their vain attempts to rouse me every fifteen minutes because it looks like I am there even though I am not. "Pop? Are you there?" "Dably? Where are you?"
My life is a lot like that IM thing. I suspect that most, if not all, of the time, were enlightened beings to try and get a hold of me, there'd be no response cause I'd be off somewhere with no away message. "Hello?" "Hello?" But if I were to leave one, I know what it would have to be: "Sorry. Not here right now. Off trying to fix samsara."
Every once in a while I think I start to actually experience a sliver of the real samsara. That dissatisfactory realm of hopelessness which can only result in suffering and in which there is no real happiness. The kind of samsara that would lead me to immediately run shrieking to the three jewels and the three roots for refuge. Real refuge, not just some prayer. "Please, please, please. Oh god. Hello, hello. Are you there. Please protect me till I can figure somethin' out. Oh, oh, oh! Hello. Hello. Ohhhh, please let me in. Quick, quick, quick. Hurry! Aiiieeee!" That kind of refuge. A nice blend of blinding confusion, gut wrenching panic and abject hopelessness, very appropriate given where we are. But that kind of scares me. So I quickly get my act together, pretend it is not really like that and happily go off to try and fix samsara once more. That is the really scary part. There I go, off trying to fix samsara, when all the time these enlightened beings actually are trying to connect with my distracted mind stream. "Hello. Hello?" No answer. Logged on, but not really there. Too busy elsewhere. Maybe later.
My kids keep me a little up to date. Not a lot, but a little. So I listen to Radiohead (How to Disappear Completely - That there, that's not me . . . I walk through walls . . . I'm not here . . . This isn't happening . . . In a little while, I'll be gone . . . The moment's already passed . . . Yeah, it's gone . . . Strobe lights and blown speakers . . . Fireworks and hurricanes . . . I'm not here) and communicate with them using Instant Messaging. They leave away messages for friends to find when they are away from the computer and scold me for leaving my account logged in with no away message. When I come back my screen is sometimes littered with their vain attempts to rouse me every fifteen minutes because it looks like I am there even though I am not. "Pop? Are you there?" "Dably? Where are you?"
My life is a lot like that IM thing. I suspect that most, if not all, of the time, were enlightened beings to try and get a hold of me, there'd be no response cause I'd be off somewhere with no away message. "Hello?" "Hello?" But if I were to leave one, I know what it would have to be: "Sorry. Not here right now. Off trying to fix samsara."
Every once in a while I think I start to actually experience a sliver of the real samsara. That dissatisfactory realm of hopelessness which can only result in suffering and in which there is no real happiness. The kind of samsara that would lead me to immediately run shrieking to the three jewels and the three roots for refuge. Real refuge, not just some prayer. "Please, please, please. Oh god. Hello, hello. Are you there. Please protect me till I can figure somethin' out. Oh, oh, oh! Hello. Hello. Ohhhh, please let me in. Quick, quick, quick. Hurry! Aiiieeee!" That kind of refuge. A nice blend of blinding confusion, gut wrenching panic and abject hopelessness, very appropriate given where we are. But that kind of scares me. So I quickly get my act together, pretend it is not really like that and happily go off to try and fix samsara once more. That is the really scary part. There I go, off trying to fix samsara, when all the time these enlightened beings actually are trying to connect with my distracted mind stream. "Hello. Hello?" No answer. Logged on, but not really there. Too busy elsewhere. Maybe later.
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