--Most astounding to behold is the sudden *rash* of interest to which my
colleagues are being subjected whether here in Dharamsala, India, or in
Thailand or Burma or Hosakawa's Japan, etc., regarding "who I am..."
Having just returned from an intensive retreat I, of course, was most
amazed at this "who is rudra mac chumaill" business about which I just assumed
the list was *joking* before (The first clue indeed is that I be a he, but no
*heebie-jeebie* nor *hee-haw* either; the second is my *given* title here,
White Celt, White Celt of the Clear Light Bardo...)
Since one of my esteemed *elders* has already blabber-mouthed my *trade
secret* on how I get my "isolated" hands on so many new books, I will relay the
tale...You see, His Holiness *the* Dalai Lama, Tenzin Gyatso, who would like to
take this moment to remind the followers of Cow-Mad Boudicea, Herr Jane
Fonda,a.k.a., "Operation Bootsie" of the C.I.A. as their "star-fink outta Santa
Monica," that, not only is it "not nice to try and murder the Dalia Lama" (for
which she's had her refuge and all other "vows" permanently severed), but too
as a thief of our Lord of the Mystic Dagger sutras a "bounty" has been
established "just for Janie-poo and all her foolish widdle girlsies"...; you
see, poor Tenzin the Dalai Lama has been in a most *embittered* mood *these
days* and has taken to putting the advance copies of books he is sent seeking
"one endorsement after another" by those "editors"
straight-outta-the-Roman-Arena-of-Olde, who privately laugh and laugh and laugh
at how something billing itself as the "Central Schtupidity Agency," according
to its Internet "Web Site," along with the Dept. of Injustice's reincarnation
of "Inge of Buchenwald," the High Wicca Dyke Priestess at Bergen-Belsen, where
all the "little pretties" like Anne Frank were tortured and turned into
something more "useful," like human-skin-lampshades, "together again" have
"traded on the poor man's kindness" to the point where he has no *credibility*
left in the world, i.e., the way having been paved to further *steamroller*
us...a situation leaving Tenzin the Dalai Lama to wander about, as if the Ghost
of Hamlet's Father, and deposit these books proffered unopened, unread, next to
our stacks of firewood...as he's heard to mutter, "What good are books in their
brave new gulag, with Soviet psychiatrists to "thought reform" us "decadent
intellectuals" with "the Thorazine, the Thorazine," and brain-dead off-spring
Linda Reston, a.k.a. Lissa Tyler Renaud to pose as the Irish Republican Army
Secretariat General, as she *functions* for Colgrin the Cold Shmirk of
Death:Langdarma's 'Rainbow Coaltion', and "shatter the windows" by any
"Daddy/Daddy Herr Thomas Twetten Op Dir CIA insanity ala Antiochus the Syrian
that Gerry Adams be stuck with now..." Tenzin pausing to shake his head in
utter disbelief, as Herr Twetten's *other* brain-dead lunk off-spring, baseball
Madame Blavatsky's baboonski Hosie Canseco travels to Ireland and England on
the CIA:DEA's expense accounts twenty times a year and "gets away wid" posing
as "good King Arthur himself," as well as "William Shakespeare of the
unmistakably perfect diction," (midi music to the strains of Hitchcock's
"Psycho" at full blare...), Tenzin taking one last look at the books and
muttering his "get wid da pogrom" magic-mantra, "Burn, baby burn," along with
Herr Janie Fonda's other favorite "Bertha don't ya come 'round here anymore"
rationalization for throwing each and every person she's ever known to "da
wolves, da wolves," dismissing the matter with, "Wel if you can't stand the
heat, don't come in [Satan's favorite consort, ole Janie Dearest's] kitchen..."
Myself, as reported by my colleagues, indeed having rescued these books
from extinction, as the poor Dalia Lama as a child suffered a bit of trauma
from how hard he was worked in his studies, at one point sitting in the corner
and pouting, having built a wall of books he was to read around him, crying,
"No more, no more," and myself knowing too how ungrateful most wretches are for
the sheerly and simply elegant genius of Tenzin's presence with which we are
*privileged* and just trying to make *light* of matters a bit...
More bad news, I'm afraid, as my "Seamus me lad" discovering of a book
open on his reading desk--at first giving rise to *hope* that his mood has
finally broken--turns out to be some old, obscure text called "Infidels and
Heretics," by Clarence Darrow and Wallace Rice (The Stratford Co., Boston,
1929), which he has taken to reading since *somehow* our "Celtic-List"
subscription was most illegally cut (his lawyer is Patrick Hallinan, mine own,
too, so the fecal material of one's own "doo-doo!" -ing is about to hit that
folded-paper fan)...An excerpt, not bad:
--"Doctor Wilhelm Bousset, D. Th., defines 'gnostic' in the Encyclopaedia
Brittanica thus: 'Among the followers of the movement 'Gnosis' was understood
not as meaning 'knowledge' or 'understanding,' but 'revelation.' These little
Gnostic sects and groups all lived in the conviction that they possessed a
secret and mysterious knowledge...not based on reflection, on scientific
enquiry and proof, but on revelation...All alike boast a mystic revelation and
a'deeply veiled wisdom.' Basing his position on human revelation, never upon
'divine,' [Thomas Henry] Huxley chose wisely and well [in originating] the
title of 'agnostic.' it came into my head as suggestively antithetic to the
'gnostic' of Chruch history, who professed to know so very much.' Richard Holt
Hutton states, with equal assurance as a witness, that the word was 'suggested
by Professor Huxley at a party held previous to the formation of the now
defunct Metaphysical Society, at Mr. James Knowles's house on Clapham Common,
one evening in 1869, in my hearing. He took it from St. Paul's mention of the
altar to 'the unknown God.'...'Ye men of Athens, I perceive that in all things
you are too superstitious...Whom therefore ye ignorantly worship, him I declare
unto you.' (Acts of the Apostles, chapter xvii, verses 22 and 23)." Darrow,
supra, p. i.
more fascinating than The Fair Unknown ("Li Biaus Desconeus")
and who is known, red ochre war paint on one cheek, startingly blue coloring on
the other, as re-mind-er of When the going gets Anything Goes, the Anything
Goes Get Going...
Rudra Mac Chumaill
Our Day Will Come...in the meantime, as Gustave Flaubert said
of "la plat a la mode," let us not become "poisoned by the filth
of modern life"
When born into a "munus sine missione," a "vir fortis,"
one "gladiatorio animo,"
has only to "recto tibi invictoque moriendum est." (Seneca, "Epistulae," 7.4)
"If there is a lonesome tall pine tree standing, the forest has not ended..."
Olde Tibetan Saying
"Wealth that is acquired by proper means in a manner
That harms none will yield both virtue and happiness."
Gurudeva's Vedas, Trikural Verse 754
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