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Spirituality & Happiness

 
unsmoked
 
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unsmoked
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30 April 2009 12:08
 

Notice he’s being careful not to step on the lines.

 
 
isocratic infidel
 
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isocratic infidel
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02 May 2009 02:42
 
Salt Creek - 26 April 2009 08:20 PM

Does (real) spirituality ever make anyone unhappy? Would anyone admit to spirituality that made them “unhappy”?

Why do we need both terms, “spirituality” and “happiness”? Who judges that some kinds of happiness make someone “unspiritual”? Fuck ‘em.

So: Do you see the problem? The problem, my fine fellows, is wibbling. Wibbling always leads to happiness.

Exactly what I would have said… well, maybe not EXACTLY, but close enough. Especially the third, fourth and fifth comment.

Just wondering though: If weebles wibbled instead of wobbled, would they have been able to fall down and find happiness?

Funny observations McC, unsmoked and SkepticX. Thanks for the yucks… may the poop click his heel three times and go home.

 
 
unsmoked
 
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unsmoked
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22 May 2009 11:11
 

A Zen master comments on spirituality and happiness:

“When you reach the point where not a single thought is born and before and after are cut off, you will suddenly penetrate through to freedom.  It’s like the bottom falling out of a bucket.  Then you experience joy.”

quoted from ‘ZEN LETTERS - Teachings of Yuanwu’ - translated by J.C. Cleary and Thomas Cleary

 
 
burt
 
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burt
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22 May 2009 23:09
 
unsmoked - 22 May 2009 03:11 PM

A Zen master comments on spirituality and happiness:

“When you reach the point where not a single thought is born and before and after are cut off, you will suddenly penetrate through to freedom.  It’s like the bottom falling out of a bucket.  Then you experience joy.”

quoted from ‘ZEN LETTERS - Teachings of Yuanwu’ - translated by J.C. Cleary and Thomas Cleary

Or from a somewhat less enlightened state, when thoughts are simply observed as part of the river flowing through.  smile

 
unsmoked
 
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unsmoked
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23 May 2009 15:16
 
burt - 23 May 2009 03:09 AM
unsmoked - 22 May 2009 03:11 PM

A Zen master comments on spirituality and happiness:

“When you reach the point where not a single thought is born and before and after are cut off, you will suddenly penetrate through to freedom.  It’s like the bottom falling out of a bucket.  Then you experience joy.”

quoted from ‘ZEN LETTERS - Teachings of Yuanwu’ - translated by J.C. Cleary and Thomas Cleary

Or from a somewhat less enlightened state, when thoughts are simply observed as part of the river flowing through.  smile

In that case, who is observing?

 
 
burt
 
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burt
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23 May 2009 22:50
 
unsmoked - 23 May 2009 07:16 PM
burt - 23 May 2009 03:09 AM
unsmoked - 22 May 2009 03:11 PM

A Zen master comments on spirituality and happiness:

“When you reach the point where not a single thought is born and before and after are cut off, you will suddenly penetrate through to freedom.  It’s like the bottom falling out of a bucket.  Then you experience joy.”

quoted from ‘ZEN LETTERS - Teachings of Yuanwu’ - translated by J.C. Cleary and Thomas Cleary

Or from a somewhat less enlightened state, when thoughts are simply observed as part of the river flowing through.  smile

In that case, who is observing?

what is

 
unsmoked
 
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unsmoked
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24 May 2009 12:59
 
burt - 24 May 2009 02:50 AM
unsmoked - 23 May 2009 07:16 PM
burt - 23 May 2009 03:09 AM
unsmoked - 22 May 2009 03:11 PM

A Zen master comments on spirituality and happiness:

“When you reach the point where not a single thought is born and before and after are cut off, you will suddenly penetrate through to freedom.  It’s like the bottom falling out of a bucket.  Then you experience joy.”

quoted from ‘ZEN LETTERS - Teachings of Yuanwu’ - translated by J.C. Cleary and Thomas Cleary

Or from a somewhat less enlightened state, when thoughts are simply observed as part of the river flowing through.  smile

In that case, who is observing?

what is

Is ‘what is’ the stream of thoughts?

 
 
burt
 
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burt
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25 May 2009 09:37
 
unsmoked - 24 May 2009 04:59 PM
burt - 24 May 2009 02:50 AM
unsmoked - 23 May 2009 07:16 PM
burt - 23 May 2009 03:09 AM
unsmoked - 22 May 2009 03:11 PM

A Zen master comments on spirituality and happiness:

“When you reach the point where not a single thought is born and before and after are cut off, you will suddenly penetrate through to freedom.  It’s like the bottom falling out of a bucket.  Then you experience joy.”

quoted from ‘ZEN LETTERS - Teachings of Yuanwu’ - translated by J.C. Cleary and Thomas Cleary

Or from a somewhat less enlightened state, when thoughts are simply observed as part of the river flowing through.  smile

In that case, who is observing?

what is

Is ‘what is’ the stream of thoughts?

It depends on what the meaning of is is…  wink

What is always changing
With permutations rearranging
The flow of night and day
The ocean in its play
The drops of foam and spray
What, indeed, are they
But that which does not change
And if this seems too strange
The only thing to say…
Take it all away.

 
unsmoked
 
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unsmoked
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25 May 2009 11:08
 
burt - 25 May 2009 01:37 PM


It depends on what the meaning of is is…  wink

According to Hoyle, it’s ‘the scenery of the fundamental ground.’  (stop thinking about it and it’s still there).

However, I know some Christians who can foil Hoyle.  Even when they stop thinking about God, he’s still there . . . at least, he’s still there when they start thinking about him again . . . no, wait . . .

[ Edited: 25 May 2009 11:13 by unsmoked]
 
 
isocratic infidel
 
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isocratic infidel
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26 May 2009 01:59
 

Aww fellas, you’re so cute, wading and wallowing in your Transcendentalism, but I think you’re both wading too deeply.

burt,  I think (but I could be wrong) that you wade so, because of your love of mathematics and its conceptual awareness of the positive and negative that flow from zero, and unsmoked, because of your love of the poetic imaginative flow that came from the ancients and their concepts of the transmigration of the “soul.”

From a psychological—or bio-electrochemical—perspective, these are both useful delusions but delusions nonetheless. Deep, Atlantically deep down, I hope your delusions are illusions that contain an element of the philosophically and ever elusive, capital ‘T’ truth… however, I don’t think any of these concepts exist except as concepts, and are in fact, delusional illusions concocted and passed on and either accepted or rejected by individual human brains.

At this juncture of my personal existence I remain a five-sensist, a realist,  an existentialist with optimistic tendencies that can no longer wish that any of the woo is true. I wish… I wish… I wish…

Eddie Veddar says it best:

I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off
I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on
I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on
The christmas tree, I wish I was the star that went on top
I wish I was the evidence, I wish I was the grounds
For 50 million hands upraised and open toward the sky

I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me
I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me
I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good
I wish I was the full moon shining off a camaros hood

I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun
I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on
I wish I was the pedal brake that you depended on
I wish I was the verb to trust and never let you down

IF there is such a thing as a transmigration of the souls and reincarnation, Salt Creek is the reincarnation of Edgar Allen Poe, who wrote of the hopelessness or hope. And I am the reincarnations of an unknown victim of the plague of Athens, an unknown peasant impaled by Vladislav Dracula, a former court jester, Thomas Paine and Norma J….

Naaaahhhh!

Carry on with your zen-shmen, and convince thy selves of its “enlightened” “spiritual” and “happy” import.  cheese

[ Edited: 26 May 2009 02:10 by isocratic infidel]
 
 
burt
 
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burt
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26 May 2009 08:11
 
unsmoked - 25 May 2009 03:08 PM
burt - 25 May 2009 01:37 PM


It depends on what the meaning of is is…  wink

According to Hoyle, it’s ‘the scenery of the fundamental ground.’  (stop thinking about it and it’s still there).

However, I know some Christians who can foil Hoyle.  Even when they stop thinking about God, he’s still there . . . at least, he’s still there when they start thinking about him again . . . no, wait . . .

A colleague of mine once got a letter from a student, a devout Christian, who refused to answer homework questions that involved probabilities for dice or cards because gambling was ungodly.  The ghost of Hoyle rose up and smote her grade-wise and there was weeping and gnashing of teeth.

 
burt
 
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burt
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26 May 2009 08:17
 
isocratic infidel - 26 May 2009 05:59 AM

Aww fellas, you’re so cute, wading and wallowing in your Transcendentalism, but I think you’re both wading too deeply.

burt,  I think (but I could be wrong) that you wade so, because of your love of mathematics and its conceptual awareness of the positive and negative that flow from zero, and unsmoked, because of your love of the poetic imaginative flow that came from the ancients and their concepts of the transmigration of the “soul.”

From a psychological—or bio-electrochemical—perspective, these are both useful delusions but delusions nonetheless. Deep, Atlantically deep down, I hope your delusions are illusions that contain an element of the philosophically and ever elusive, capital ‘T’ truth… however, I don’t think any of these concepts exist except as concepts, and are in fact, delusional illusions concocted and passed on and either accepted or rejected by individual human brains.

At this juncture of my personal existence I remain a five-sensist, a realist,  an existentialist with optimistic tendencies that can no longer wish that any of the woo is true. I wish… I wish… I wish…

Eddie Veddar says it best:

I wish I was a neutron bomb, for once I could go off
I wish I was a sacrifice but somehow still lived on
I wish I was a sentimental ornament you hung on
The christmas tree, I wish I was the star that went on top
I wish I was the evidence, I wish I was the grounds
For 50 million hands upraised and open toward the sky

I wish I was a sailor with someone who waited for me
I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me
I wish I was a messenger and all the news was good
I wish I was the full moon shining off a camaros hood

I wish I was an alien at home behind the sun
I wish I was the souvenir you kept your house key on
I wish I was the pedal brake that you depended on
I wish I was the verb to trust and never let you down

IF there is such a thing as a transmigration of the souls and reincarnation, Salt Creek is the reincarnation of Edgar Allen Poe, who wrote of the hopelessness or hope. And I am the reincarnations of an unknown victim of the plague of Athens, an unknown peasant impaled by Vladislav Dracula, a former court jester, Thomas Paine and Norma J….

Naaaahhhh!

Carry on with your zen-shmen, and convince thy selves of its “enlightened” “spiritual” and “happy” import.  cheese

Infidel!!!   

What’s the sensation of the beauty of a rose?
Does it exist anywhere, outside of your nose?
A rose is a rose is a rose is a rose,
You know the drill and that’s how it goes.

 
unsmoked
 
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unsmoked
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26 May 2009 11:22
 

I am imagining a very posh and expensive psychiatry office   in Beverly hills.  It is a partnership - INFIDEL & CREEK PhD, PGA, PBC.  Tom Cruise and John Travolta are both known to be patients.  The paparazi maintain a vigil in parked cars across the street from the entrance.

In the inner sanctum there are two expensive, parallel leather couches.  I am on one, Burt is on the other.  We both have our hands folded on our chest, not too unlike the deceased in an undertaker’s parlor.  Both doctors are in attendance, each sitting in an AMAZING AERON CHAIR, Dr. Isocratic with pen and spiral notebook, and Dr. Creek with a golfball in each hand, passing them between his fingers as a magician does with coins.

I have just explained that my ancestors arose from rocks and that in the brief span of 3.5 billion years I have ended up on this couch claiming to be the consciousness of rocks, that rocks are therefore aware of themselves, and that they can be happy if they don’t take themselves too seriously or want too much out of life.

Dr. Isocratic:  (suddenly spinning in her chair and coming to an ubrupt halt)  Naaaaahhhh!

Dr. Creek:  (juggling the golf balls)  Numbskull!

Burt looks at his watch and begins to sing Nights in White Satin never reaching the end, etc. 

A cell phone rings, sounding like a robin singing.

Dr. Creek:  Yes?  Travolta?  Tell him to have a seat.  No.  He’s singing Nights in White Satin.  No.  I’m not sure how many verses it has.  What’s wrong with him?  Dammit!  I’ll be right out.  Burt, an emergency.  Dr. Infidel is listening.  You are definitely not going to Hollywood.

 
 
eudemonia
 
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eudemonia
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26 May 2009 14:22
 

I am still trying to figure out what is..is and what the difference is between ought and is and how and why.

Can you get why from how and is Hume really Hume and if not how is he not and why?

Shit I’m confused.

 
 
isocratic infidel
 
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isocratic infidel
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27 May 2009 11:36
 
unsmoked - 26 May 2009 03:22 PM

I am imagining a very posh and expensive psychiatry office   in Beverly hills.  It is a partnership - INFIDEL & CREEK PhD, PGA, PBC.  Tom Cruise and John Travolta are both known to be patients.  The paparazi maintain a vigil in parked cars across the street from the entrance.

In the inner sanctum there are two expensive, parallel leather couches.  I am on one, Burt is on the other.  We both have our hands folded on our chest, not too unlike the deceased in an undertaker’s parlor.  Both doctors are in attendance, each sitting in an AMAZING AERON CHAIR, Dr. Isocratic with pen and spiral notebook, and Dr. Creek with a golfball in each hand, passing them between his fingers as a magician does with coins.

I have just explained that my ancestors arose from rocks and that in the brief span of 3.5 billion years I have ended up on this couch claiming to be the consciousness of rocks, that rocks are therefore aware of themselves, and that they can be happy if they don’t take themselves too seriously or want too much out of life.

Dr. Isocratic:  (suddenly spinning in her chair and coming to an ubrupt halt)  Naaaaahhhh!

Dr. Creek:  (juggling the golf balls)  Numbskull!

Burt looks at his watch and begins to sing Nights in White Satin never reaching the end, etc. 

A cell phone rings, sounding like a robin singing.

Dr. Creek:  Yes?  Travolta?  Tell him to have a seat.  No.  He’s singing Nights in White Satin.  No.  I’m not sure how many verses it has.  What’s wrong with him?  Dammit!  I’ll be right out.  Burt, an emergency.  Dr. Infidel is listening.  You are definitely not going to Hollywood.

LOL Good one unsmoked. Two thumbs up!
Ouch!  shock
What was that?
I just poked one of my thumbs on burt’s roses.
And that’s Mrs. Ms. Doctor Infidel del Isocraticus. Oh, and I prefer jaundiced legal pads to spiral notebooks. Perhaps a raven instead of a robin… Please make appropriate edits to the script.  wink

Hope to see you guys on Sam’s…. uh-hmm,  other side.  cheese

 
 
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