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5.4 KiB
Plaintext
1 line
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
ZEN AND THE ART OF SLACK
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by James "Kibo" Parry
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My mantra is "mantra, dammit".
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As I sit here on my zafu (that's a Zen meditation pillow stuffed
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with tofu), I reach satori even though I live downstairs from the
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demolition derby rink.
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I feel a oneness with the itch in my first chakra. I feel a oneness
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with the Pet Rock I used to own. I feel a twoness with myself.
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I realize that everything is either something or a hole in
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something. Or, perhaps, everything is one big hole and the somethings
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are holes within the hole. I shift my weight imperceptibly and the zafu
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makes a fart noise.
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Upstairs, two old Trans Ams, surplus from "Knight Rider", collide.
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I can hear the sound of my blood moving through my inner ears. I
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realize that everything which exists is made up of little dots arranged
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in diagonal rows. A cockroach runs across the floor and into my zafu.
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I realize that "Bob"'s teeth are clenched and his Pipe is not
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between them. The teeth are joined and the Pipe ends in front of them.
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His nose casts a shadow on the Pipe and the Pipe casts a shadow on his
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chin but they do not touch. I have reached enfuckinglightenment!
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As I nearly fall off my zafu, it farts again, blowing the cockroach
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into the next room.
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There once was a novice monk named Bho Zho who asked the master,
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"Does a house burn up or burn down?"
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The master set fire to the novice's house, after taking all his
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money. As the house burned both up and down, the novice was
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enlightened.
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I bow to the Sacred Halftone Print of "Bob" to thank him for the
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enlightenment. As I do so, "Bob"'s face shimmers and blurs before my
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face. All I see is the Dots but not the Smile. All I see is the Smile
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without the Dots. I see both. I see neither. I see the hair of Desi
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Arnaz, the eyes and mouth of Pee-wee Herman, the jaw of Jay Leno all
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combined in a blender: "Bob".
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"Bob" is before me and I am "Bob" and yesterday is tomorrow and I
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am the walrus mama dada googoo chihuahuahuahua ommmmmmmmm
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"Yo! Yo! Stop with the satoiri already!" "Bob" steps out of the
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picture, slaps me, and pours himself a Dr Pepper. He sits on my zafu,
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which makes a sound like a tuba. I sit on a tatami which is beginning
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to sprout. "Bob" looks me in the eye.
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"Cool it with the meditation, guy, it's dull. It's `Bosom Buddies'
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without the laughtrack. It's the sound of one lip chapping. It's a
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bicycle riding a fish, a steamroller being run over by a birthday cake.
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It just doesn't compare to the fun stuff, especially sex."
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I avoid meeting "Bob"'s gaze as I whisper, "He who claims someone
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does not have Buddha-nature has no Buddha-nature."
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"Hey, it's easier to say `Slack' than `Buddha-nature', you know. Or
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`swellness'. They're all the same thing. You're on a true path to
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enlightenment, but true paths have true dirt and true mosquitoes... false
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paths are much better. Give me your money now."
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"I have no money, just one zafu, one tatami, my oryoki, this setsu
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stick, an inflatable Buddha, a tofu log, all three "Sweatin' to the
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Oldies" tapes, a disposable zabuton, a pile of bulk miso, my
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Zen-to-English dictionary..."
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"AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE!" "Bob" waggles his eyebrows and
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smiles. "But seriously, pal, I'll take it all and pretend it's cash
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equivalent. Hey, after I take your zafu, I'll even give you a receipt.
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Get it? Re-seat!"
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"Bob" packs all my worldly possessions into his seemingly
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bottomless pockets and he leads me out of the monastery. Milliseconds
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later, a black Trans Am falls through the ceiling, crashing right where
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we had been sitting. It yells insults at us as we walk to the pebble
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garden.
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"This eggplant in my pocket is like an elephant," said Bhoddyohdor.
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"Yet this elephant in my pocket is like a pair of wax lips,"
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replied Tai Dhee Bhoul.
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Just then, Master Rhais Ahroni strolled past. "Tell us," begged
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Bhoddyohdor and Tai Dhee Bhoul, "Is the eggplant like the elephant
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which is like the wax lips, or should we just go watch sitcoms all
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day?"
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The master ate the eggplant, shot the elephant, and got germs on
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the wax lips. The novices were not enlightened. The master laughed.
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"Bob" is using my rake to draw Snoopy in my pebble garden. "So,
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Kibo, why the heck do you have all these pebbles filling up a perfectly
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good wading pool?"
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"Raking the pebbles is a task which accomplishes nothing. The goal
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is to clear the mind by doing nothing."
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"Um, hey, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't `doing nothing' doing
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something? So by doing nothing, you're doing something, therefore
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you're not accomplishing the nothing in the first place! You can't not
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do anything."
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He is clearly suffering from Buddha called dhiarrhea of the mouth.
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I say, "You have Bozo-nature."
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"Of course. Because if I said I were not a bozo, I would be proving
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myself to be a bozo! Now, are you a bozo?"
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At that moment, the enlightenment clears from my mind and I devolve
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to a lower plane of being. "Bob" congratulates me by giving me a wig
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like his. We go out for a beer.
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"What is the meaning of this story?" asked the novice. "Also, what
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is the sound of one hand clapping, and what's a zabuton? Why does Fox
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cancel all its shows every season? And why the hell does your Pipe's
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stem hover a quarter-inch in front of your mouth?"
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"Slack," said the master. "Pure, unadulterated slack. But I lie."
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At that moment, the novice dropped dead before finishing this sto
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