What’s a monastery like?
A monastery is like this:
Several hundred acres
Of Cotswold countryside
A large ancient abbey
A well-stocked kitchen
All-you-can-eat
Though limited menu
Thirteen
Kindly
Hospitable
Peaceful
Monks
A chapel for them to pray in
And a separate bit for the laity too
Prayers every two hours
Food every four
Early mornings
And early nights
In my sweet cosy bedroom
Long sleeps
Long walks
Long baths
Quietness
Simplicity of existence
Solitude
And nobody saying
What do you want to do next?
No shopping
No planning
Bliss
The weird
The old monk
Holds up a circle of wafer
Looks at it intently
And says:
This is the lamb of God
Who takes away the sin of the world
Then he breaks the wafer
And gives it solemnly
To other monks
And to me
Who solemnly eat it
Every day
Every few hours
These monks
These western modern men
File into a chapel
And sing the words
Of a long dead Jew
- not Jesus; but David -
In voices
Slightly too high
To be taken seriously
Some of them have been doing it
For over 60 years
Is it wrong
I wonder
In a Catholic monastery
In a monk-made bed
While the brothers say their prayers
And Jesus looks down
To wank
While reading
A Bible?
Poor old Jesus!
No wonder he doesn’t return
For if he did
Everywhere he’d look
Crucifixes
As though he needs reminding
A bit like commemorating Diana
With a tunnel
Christianity,
I think
Doesn’t exist
Mostly what I hear
Is Old Wineskin irrelevance
Dubious evangelisms
And Paulian exhortations
To put his own doctor
Above all others
But all Jesus really said was this:
Love one another
And while you’re at it
Love everything else too
Does anybody know what sin is?
I can’t think of anything
At least, nothing I couldn’t attribute
To ignorance
Unconsciousness
Lack of education
Lack of parenting
Or love
At worst,
I can agree that we all make mistakes
No blame in that
I thought
Come on God
If you’re right here
Right now
And somewhere within me
It shouldn’t be too hard
All I’ve got to do
Is still my mind
Rein in my thoughts
Become one hundred percent present
And penetrate to the depths of my heart
Easy
But instead
All I did
Was think about poetry
Compose ‘wise words’
Come up with book ideas
And plot good deeds
I thought
Hm
Maybe that’s okay
I can live with that
At least I’ve seen that the inside of my brain
Is mostly positive these days
And then I picked up
The Cloud of Unknowing
And read:
This is what you’ll do to distract;
The mind is cunning
Hm again
It’s such a shame
That the greatest thing in life
Is basically unattainable.
Did the author of the Book of Revelation
When finished
Look at what he’d done and think
Ee, that’s good, that is?
I can’t imagine what it’s like
To be truly mad
Spirituality 2011
So here is the state of affairs:
Nobody knows anything
There is no instruction book
We’re all just groping around in the dark
Pissing in the wind
Searching for meaning wherever we can find it
Some in Hedonism
Some in Buddhism
Some in a New Age
Which embraces everything
- even things that are bona fide nutso -
And eagerly awaits 2012
For various reasons
Ranging from armageddon
To universal enlightenment
None of which will happen
And in 2013
The Mayan calender will be as done with
As Y2K
The second coming
And all the other millennial beliefs
Christians/UFOers up on hills
Arms raised
Watching watches
Feeling foolish
Maybe God doesn’t even exist
Or, at least, isn’t what we think It is
But the soul does
And the ‘something non-physical’ does
The otherworldly
The supernatural
The mystical
Love
And that’s enough for me
So who do we turn to?
Derren Brown?
Who seems to know plenty
And rightly asserts
That England is full of half-assed mediums
Spraying ‘messages’ willy-nilly
And nearly always missing
And everyone’s a healer
And healing’s so basic
For who will heal our hearts,
Our minds?
The Dalia Lama’s got wisdom
Got smiles
Got goodness
The pope...
The pope...
The pope’s a joke!
And Sai Baba’s a phoney
Youtube proves that
One among thousands
Of fake Indian babas
Even Yogananda
Has the stigma
Of careless little children
Spunked here and there
Like so many others
But listen! Fake gurus
If you want to fuck, fuck
Nobody’ll begrudge you
As long as you’re honest
And leave the little boys alone
But they still have their followers:
Osho and his Rollses
His machine guns and orgies
Even Franklin Jones
The maddest man who ever lived
Was revered by hundreds
As a God incarnate
Though thankfully dead now
Hopefully John de Ruiter soon
So who’s left?
Ken Wilber talks shite
And Andrew Cohen talks shite
And Chogyam Trungpa was a drunk
And I don’t care what anybody says
Mastering the art of not poisoning your own body
Is a basic
Ask Buddha
Who seems basically right on
Though who knows what he really said?
Five hundred years is a long time
Between speech and record
And the Theravedans and the Mahayanans
And the Burmese and the Tibetans
And the Chinese
And the Zen
Have all got their own way
Still, the old ones are the best huh?
No internet to discredit them
All heresies suppressed
All those old saints:
The blue-skinned Sri Krishna
The green-skinned Milarepa
Flying through space
Did they really exist?
And was Jesus
- whisper it -
Really the Son of God?
- whatever that means -
Or was that added on later?
Was he actually not quite there
A little bit drunk on the spirit
And carried away?
Moses parting waters
Noah and his Ark
It all seems, by modern standards
A little bit far-fetched
And so we come to Amma
Where miracles abound
Though I’ve never seen any
Beyond the peace that oozes from her
The way she can sit for fifteen hours
All through the night
Not eating or drinking
Always smiling
Always the same
Day after day
Month after month
Year after year
Receiving thousands
Holding them in her arms
Hugging them all
Loving them all
I do believe there’s never been a soul like her
On this Earth
And yet I’m still not convinced
She’s the one for me
My own path led to Germany
To a small Indian lady
Who doesn’t speak
Doesn’t do anything grand
Just looked in my eyes
And made my heart say a million times over
Thank you
And all she ever told me was
Be yourself
Get a job
Find a wife
Live a good life
And be happy
Spiritually speaking
Christianity seems a real primitive religion
No direction
No techniques
No goal
Just lots of madness
Earnest convictions
And I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone
Who’s walked that path
Who’s made it even a little ways
‘Cept in long dead tales
- Padre Pio, Therese Neumann -
Though I’d love to
What a shame that mad Bible
All doctored and twisted
Has been shoved down our throats
By nice white-skinned preachers
Ordained “to spread the gospel
and make disciples of all nations”
Though Jesus never said that
Someone added that in later
To justify their own cause
And make it seem right
I’m very harsh on Christianity at times
But there are hundreds of millions of Christians
So how can I generalise?
I’m sure most of them are awesome
Tolerate other faiths
Don’t think they’re the only ones
Maybe even know God
It’s just a shame that
The loudest
The ugliest
The most obnoxious
Of any clique
Are the ones who make the news
It started
Like life
With the best of intentions
All holy and pure
With longings for light
It wasn’t long, however
Before other things intruded
And it ended
Like life
Thinking mostly of tits
The Pursuit of Happiness
Happiness is the most important thing
Pursue it always
Sometimes you’ll find it in the things you do
Sometimes in the quiet times, doing nothing
If you have emotional problems
Root them out
You’ll feel better after
And if you do it often enough
You’ll feel good during too
Making decisions based on money is rarely pleasurable
Better to be homeless and poor
Than miserable
Though if you must be homeless
Better to do it somewhere warm
If you feel stuck
Have a think
The answer will be somewhere
If it’s not
The answer is probably to relax for a while
And while we’re on the subject:
Relaxation is good
As are siestas
There’s no obligation to do anything in particular
You really can do
Whatever you like
Of course,
Life is about a billion times more complex than this
But everything you need will be there
When you need it
Just remember:
Be yourself
And believe in yourself
Peace is good
And harmony is good
And avoiding the things that disturb your harmony
Is wisdom
It’s a long life
But if you spend it in the pursuit of happiness
You’ll never be bored
A monastery is like this:
Several hundred acres
Of Cotswold countryside
A large ancient abbey
A well-stocked kitchen
All-you-can-eat
Though limited menu
Thirteen
Kindly
Hospitable
Peaceful
Monks
A chapel for them to pray in
And a separate bit for the laity too
Prayers every two hours
Food every four
Early mornings
And early nights
In my sweet cosy bedroom
Long sleeps
Long walks
Long baths
Quietness
Simplicity of existence
Solitude
And nobody saying
What do you want to do next?
No shopping
No planning
Bliss
The weird
The old monk
Holds up a circle of wafer
Looks at it intently
And says:
This is the lamb of God
Who takes away the sin of the world
Then he breaks the wafer
And gives it solemnly
To other monks
And to me
Who solemnly eat it
Every day
Every few hours
These monks
These western modern men
File into a chapel
And sing the words
Of a long dead Jew
- not Jesus; but David -
In voices
Slightly too high
To be taken seriously
Some of them have been doing it
For over 60 years
Is it wrong
I wonder
In a Catholic monastery
In a monk-made bed
While the brothers say their prayers
And Jesus looks down
To wank
While reading
A Bible?
Poor old Jesus!
No wonder he doesn’t return
For if he did
Everywhere he’d look
Crucifixes
As though he needs reminding
A bit like commemorating Diana
With a tunnel
Christianity,
I think
Doesn’t exist
Mostly what I hear
Is Old Wineskin irrelevance
Dubious evangelisms
And Paulian exhortations
To put his own doctor
Above all others
But all Jesus really said was this:
Love one another
And while you’re at it
Love everything else too
Does anybody know what sin is?
I can’t think of anything
At least, nothing I couldn’t attribute
To ignorance
Unconsciousness
Lack of education
Lack of parenting
Or love
At worst,
I can agree that we all make mistakes
No blame in that
I thought
Come on God
If you’re right here
Right now
And somewhere within me
It shouldn’t be too hard
All I’ve got to do
Is still my mind
Rein in my thoughts
Become one hundred percent present
And penetrate to the depths of my heart
Easy
But instead
All I did
Was think about poetry
Compose ‘wise words’
Come up with book ideas
And plot good deeds
I thought
Hm
Maybe that’s okay
I can live with that
At least I’ve seen that the inside of my brain
Is mostly positive these days
And then I picked up
The Cloud of Unknowing
And read:
This is what you’ll do to distract;
The mind is cunning
Hm again
It’s such a shame
That the greatest thing in life
Is basically unattainable.
Did the author of the Book of Revelation
When finished
Look at what he’d done and think
Ee, that’s good, that is?
I can’t imagine what it’s like
To be truly mad
Spirituality 2011
So here is the state of affairs:
Nobody knows anything
There is no instruction book
We’re all just groping around in the dark
Pissing in the wind
Searching for meaning wherever we can find it
Some in Hedonism
Some in Buddhism
Some in a New Age
Which embraces everything
- even things that are bona fide nutso -
And eagerly awaits 2012
For various reasons
Ranging from armageddon
To universal enlightenment
None of which will happen
And in 2013
The Mayan calender will be as done with
As Y2K
The second coming
And all the other millennial beliefs
Christians/UFOers up on hills
Arms raised
Watching watches
Feeling foolish
Maybe God doesn’t even exist
Or, at least, isn’t what we think It is
But the soul does
And the ‘something non-physical’ does
The otherworldly
The supernatural
The mystical
Love
And that’s enough for me
So who do we turn to?
Derren Brown?
Who seems to know plenty
And rightly asserts
That England is full of half-assed mediums
Spraying ‘messages’ willy-nilly
And nearly always missing
And everyone’s a healer
And healing’s so basic
For who will heal our hearts,
Our minds?
The Dalia Lama’s got wisdom
Got smiles
Got goodness
The pope...
The pope...
The pope’s a joke!
And Sai Baba’s a phoney
Youtube proves that
One among thousands
Of fake Indian babas
Even Yogananda
Has the stigma
Of careless little children
Spunked here and there
Like so many others
But listen! Fake gurus
If you want to fuck, fuck
Nobody’ll begrudge you
As long as you’re honest
And leave the little boys alone
But they still have their followers:
Osho and his Rollses
His machine guns and orgies
Even Franklin Jones
The maddest man who ever lived
Was revered by hundreds
As a God incarnate
Though thankfully dead now
Hopefully John de Ruiter soon
So who’s left?
Ken Wilber talks shite
And Andrew Cohen talks shite
And Chogyam Trungpa was a drunk
And I don’t care what anybody says
Mastering the art of not poisoning your own body
Is a basic
Ask Buddha
Who seems basically right on
Though who knows what he really said?
Five hundred years is a long time
Between speech and record
And the Theravedans and the Mahayanans
And the Burmese and the Tibetans
And the Chinese
And the Zen
Have all got their own way
Still, the old ones are the best huh?
No internet to discredit them
All heresies suppressed
All those old saints:
The blue-skinned Sri Krishna
The green-skinned Milarepa
Flying through space
Did they really exist?
And was Jesus
- whisper it -
Really the Son of God?
- whatever that means -
Or was that added on later?
Was he actually not quite there
A little bit drunk on the spirit
And carried away?
Moses parting waters
Noah and his Ark
It all seems, by modern standards
A little bit far-fetched
And so we come to Amma
Where miracles abound
Though I’ve never seen any
Beyond the peace that oozes from her
The way she can sit for fifteen hours
All through the night
Not eating or drinking
Always smiling
Always the same
Day after day
Month after month
Year after year
Receiving thousands
Holding them in her arms
Hugging them all
Loving them all
I do believe there’s never been a soul like her
On this Earth
And yet I’m still not convinced
She’s the one for me
My own path led to Germany
To a small Indian lady
Who doesn’t speak
Doesn’t do anything grand
Just looked in my eyes
And made my heart say a million times over
Thank you
And all she ever told me was
Be yourself
Get a job
Find a wife
Live a good life
And be happy
Spiritually speaking
Christianity seems a real primitive religion
No direction
No techniques
No goal
Just lots of madness
Earnest convictions
And I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone
Who’s walked that path
Who’s made it even a little ways
‘Cept in long dead tales
- Padre Pio, Therese Neumann -
Though I’d love to
What a shame that mad Bible
All doctored and twisted
Has been shoved down our throats
By nice white-skinned preachers
Ordained “to spread the gospel
and make disciples of all nations”
Though Jesus never said that
Someone added that in later
To justify their own cause
And make it seem right
I’m very harsh on Christianity at times
But there are hundreds of millions of Christians
So how can I generalise?
I’m sure most of them are awesome
Tolerate other faiths
Don’t think they’re the only ones
Maybe even know God
It’s just a shame that
The loudest
The ugliest
The most obnoxious
Of any clique
Are the ones who make the news
It started
Like life
With the best of intentions
All holy and pure
With longings for light
It wasn’t long, however
Before other things intruded
And it ended
Like life
Thinking mostly of tits
The Pursuit of Happiness
Happiness is the most important thing
Pursue it always
Sometimes you’ll find it in the things you do
Sometimes in the quiet times, doing nothing
If you have emotional problems
Root them out
You’ll feel better after
And if you do it often enough
You’ll feel good during too
Making decisions based on money is rarely pleasurable
Better to be homeless and poor
Than miserable
Though if you must be homeless
Better to do it somewhere warm
If you feel stuck
Have a think
The answer will be somewhere
If it’s not
The answer is probably to relax for a while
And while we’re on the subject:
Relaxation is good
As are siestas
There’s no obligation to do anything in particular
You really can do
Whatever you like
Of course,
Life is about a billion times more complex than this
But everything you need will be there
When you need it
Just remember:
Be yourself
And believe in yourself
Peace is good
And harmony is good
And avoiding the things that disturb your harmony
Is wisdom
It’s a long life
But if you spend it in the pursuit of happiness
You’ll never be bored
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