show me the way to go home

I’m tired. This is mainly due to the fact that I teach late mornings all the way through to the evening classes and, mentally, I don’t really get into gear until about two in the morning. So it goes. No complaints or regrets.

Here’s something I whipped up for you.  This one goes out to all the early risers, day sleepers, moon walkers, tree shakers, ah whatevers.

 

“The Buddha’s Birthday”

It’s like riding fucking glittered candy floss, it is.

That happiness.

A sparkle and a weightlessness

a deep breath of the cleanest, coldest, sharp air

every glistening cliché

because clichés become cliché because they are true.

 

 

Wanna know a secret?

let’s keep our voices low

laughing muffled whispers.

You want to know?

First, a person: you, me, the guy over there, the billions around us,

Gautama Buddha Keanu Siddhartha himself

brews his or her own happiness,

his or her own despair.

Nothing gifted or sentenced.

 

 

Sure, the Buddha reminds us

life is suffering.

Sure.

The Buddha says: let go.

So let’s go.

The Buddha says: be love.

Be love, not loved, just love.

Turn the dial to maddeningly magical,

make everything the safest cloud,

feel like a damned sky pillow, for crying out loud and the love of Pete.

 

 

Check this out:

You pick an emotion like slipping

a card from a deck.

Don’t like it? Shove it back.

Think the whole game stupid? Smack down the cards and walk away.

 

 

That secret?

Lean in and I’ll breathe it in your ear.

No one gives you a card.

You carry your own deck.

Lay them out.

Let’s go.