Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!

Sunday, June 18, 2006

deja vu

"Zen opens a man's eyes to the greatest mystery as it is daily and hourly performed; it enlarges the heart to embrace eternity of time and infinity of space in its every palpitation; it makes us live in the world as if walking in the garden of Eden."

Tony turned the page. Above his head the day sky was black. He heard the raucous cries of birds. White birds on a black sky. Seagulls wheeling and spinning in a mad pantomime. An ariel ballet that defied the frowns of the gathered clouds.

"A master in the art of living draws no sharp distinction between his work and his play; his labor and his leisure; his mind and his body; his education and his recreation. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence through whatever he is doing, and leaves others to determine whether he is working or playing. To himself, he always appears to be doing both. "

He ran water from the tap and filled his glass. Then he placed a fistful of ice into the glass. He twisted the glass around so that the ice span within the glass and made violent clinking sounds. Like the chiming of time from the depths of the ocean. Then he drained the glass with deep and gutteral swallowing sounds. When he had finished he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.


"Whatever is material shape, past, future, present, subjective or objective, gross or subtle, mean or excellent, whether it is far or near — all material shape should be seen by perfect intuitive wisdom as it really is: "This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self." Whatever is feeling, whatever is perception, whatever are habitual tendencies, whatever is consciousness, past, future, present, subjective or objective, gross or subtle, mean or excellent, whether it is far or near — all should be seen by perfect intuitive wisdom as it really is: "This is not mine, this I am not, this is not my self." "

Tony looked at the clock.
The time was five past nine.
The time was five past nine.
Toni looked at the clock.

She raised her hand to her eyes to keep the glowering sun out of them. Outside the desert heat shimmered like a host of insects blindly wing beating the air in a transparent display of idiot vaudeville. Real life in a plastic frame thought Toni. She ran water into a glass. It felt like deja vu.

6 comments:

doctor filth said...

Even by your standards this one is freaky weird,

nomadic_waves said...

Mesmerizing....
And yes,i think i will be back...thanks for wishing me on my b'day

Cocaine Jesus said...

doctor f>>>things are about to get REALLY freaky weird.

Cocaine Jesus said...

nomadic_waves>>>great news. i look forward to seeing more of our words.

thumbscrew said...

Suggestions of a parallel universe here perhaps?

Cocaine Jesus said...

thumbscrew>>>exactly so.