Ten Stupid Things That Sound Intelligent and Profound (Or Do They?)

Or. Do. They? O.o

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1.))) Every experience in this life is a lesson. The most difficult moments hide the lessons we most resist learning.

2.))) The things that make us angry show us when we need to practice letting go. Typing that sentence is a million times easier than figuring out how to actually do it.

3.))) Expectations are the surest way to bring oneself meaningless suffering.

4.))) Everyone is wrong, all the time. Nobody knows what the fuck is going on. The more we resist our own basic ignorance, the further we are from true knowing.

5.))) Any statement can seem wise and profound, with the right measure of language and conviction.

6.))) A great way to relieve some of the pressures of the burden of existence is to remember you are just a mostly hairless monkey with delusions of grandeur and too much capacity for complex thought.

7.))) With all the complexities of the human mind, even the most intelligent and capable of us are still pretty fucking stupid and clueless most of the time.

8.))) For all the grandly evolved capabilities, ideals, achievements, responsibilities, and sense of self importance displayed by humankind, we are all at our core simply grasping blindly to find our place and our path in the accident of existence. You are not nearly as important as you think you are. Neither am I. Neither is anybody. There’s a sense of calm in that.

9.))) Talking has fuck all to do with getting shit done. Real motherfuckers get shit done.

10.))) Using profanity to illustrate a point is called “perfervidic expletivication” and releases the same chemicals in the brain as sex and heroin. I read it on the internet, so I know it’s true.

11.))) Fuck self-imposed limitations, in lists and in life!

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Musings on a Wednesday: Randomness and Observations

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– There’s nothing like the smell of wet cow ass in the morning. It smells like…well, like wet cow ass.

– Must be a leak over my bunk when it rains heavy, because I slept in a wet spot that I am 98% sure I didn’t make. Okay….82% sure.

– Is it oxymoronic to despise someone you’ve just met and otherwise know nothing about, based solely on their apparent association with a hate group? I feel like it kind of is, but I also feel like I’m kind of okay with that.

I don’t have to know a KKK member to think they are a piece of shit.

— Lady Mary

– Getting paid to do a whole lot of nothing for eight hours and then being rained out for the last two make for an easy workday. But an easy workday is not necessarily a “good” workday. Because FUCKING BORING!

– Somebody should start a cell phone service marketed specifically to the oilfield and pipeline that gets decent service out in all these B.F.E. locations. Since it’s for the oilfield and pipeline, they could overcharge like crazy and motherfuckers will pay it. You could make MILLIONS.

– I often consider murder as a preferable alternative to finding ways to coexist with a deplorable person. Then I think, well, that isn’t very Buddhist of me. Then, I double check which direction the blade on my pocket knife unfolds, in case I need to open it quickly.

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– The worst thing about using a freshly-pumped portable shitter is having the chemical water splash back up from a “projectile” and coat your undercarriage with filth. Well…that’s maybe not the worst thing, but it’s up there…

– So many many things in this world piss me off. You may have noticed. But few things piss me off more than unsubstantiated arrogance and swagger. Perhaps it has something to do with the apparent “fact” that those who actually have something to be cocky about generally are conversely humble and gracious. The motherfuckers that strut and cackle usually don’t have shit to back it up. Usually.

I will not do what the tick tells me to…
… I will not do what the tick tells me to…
… I will not do what the tick tells me to…
…I will not…….

— The Ryan

– Some days, when a person or situation disrupts my delicate sensibilities to the extent that the Others take over before I can practice “letting go,” I end up in a downward spiraling snowball of scorn and loathing that grows to consume the entirety of my consciousness to the point that I can only see the destruction of all existence as a solution. I feel only hatred. I can no longer see through my own perspective and headspace to determine if this is simply a byproduct of my sickness, if my anger and sense of apocalyptic hatred is just and warranted, if anyone or anything even deserves to fucking live, to exist. I say lay waste to the wasted. Be done with it.

Fuck money, fuck friends, fuck family! Fuck pussy, fuck drugs, fuck sanity! I don’t give a shit! Why?! ‘Cuz ignorance is bliss! Right?!

— Flatbush ZOMBiES, “Bliss”

– Sometimes I like pie. But not apple pie. Unless it is green chile apple pie. Seriously, yo…that shit is bomb.

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– No matter who you are, no matter what it is…music fixes everything. At least until the song’s over. Then you might actually have to do something yourself to keep shit fixed. But, fuck that, right?! ;-D

One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain…

— Bob Marley

– The moment I am writing something, it is the most brilliant and insightful thing ever committed to paper. The moment after I write something, I despise it with the fury of one thousand suns. I feel like I am not alone in this.

– I am stuck at the crossing of what is essentially a different version of the same fucking train I spent forty minutes trapped by a couple of weeks ago. I know this because of the graffiti. Or because I only dreamt this before, and now the shit is happening for real. And I have no data connection.

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

To Attempt Openness

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Image by Andrew Gable

It has been brought to my attention, by some of the more laid-back voices in my head — they had to band together in solidarity to be heard over the rest of this rabble — that, by and large and for the most part and all that, our posts on this page have been somewhat heavy on the belligerence, whilst largely ignoring the dharma.

After some careful self-reflection (which was, of course, preceded by ire, indignation, denial, and not a small amount of surly, boisterous resistance) I am inclined to agree. Actually, this imbalance is — as allegorical symmetry is so wont to do — reflective of a physical and psychic disparity of serenity in my “real life” that I have been aware of for some time. And while I am keen on reflecting in ponderous deliberation a meriad of cause and effective methodology with which to address this pervasive disquiet, the lethargic, apathetic procrastinator in me is loathe to take any real and deliberate action.

This must change. And this change must begin now. I am very much aware of the things I need to do in order to progress along this path of steady calming. It is time to stop thinking on them, to stop talking about them, to set aside my fears and reservations and actually fucking DO something.

For now, that something will be this, a two-parter:

1.))) I must practice zazen much more often, and with deliberate regularity.

2.))) I must WRITE.

There can be no peace in life with such disquiet and upheaval in the mind. The zazen is intended to address this on a spiritual level, and the writing will address it on a cathartic artistic level. And I don’t mean more of the same of what I’ve been doing, simply churning out casual snippets of egocentric musing when the mood strikes, or because I feel I need to fulfill some personal obligation to post some drivel on WordPress every day.

I need to be writing in earnest, with passionate deliberate fury, writing honestly and unabated and without fear or reservation or expectation, without even intent of having what I write be seen by eyes that are not my own. I need to be writing madly and selfishly and obsessively. I need to stop shallowly pondering meanings and themes and intent and stop attempting to prematurely ejaculate some kind of superficial, pretentious grandeur into the idea of a thing and simply fucking WRITE it (I’m speaking about my “novel” here).

And don’t forget the zazen.

And, so it goes that I will be throwing my energy into fulfilling this two-part goal in the coming minutes and hours and days and weeks. I may share some of what’s produced on here, but my focus needs to be on doing these things selfishly and with absolute self-serving intent, for now. No expectations.

That being said, I’d like to welcome a new pen to the WordPress community, a madly brilliant young lady who is also a dear friend of mine on “the outside.” Monica unleashed her blog, Musings of a Baby Tiga, upon the world only a few days ago, however if you give her a follow you are sure to be intrigued, disturbed, inspired, obsessed, and otherwise enthralled with what she and her mind have to offer. She is most certainly One Of Us…

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Image by InfernoTheRoyal

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

An Intrepid, Wandering Hermit

Goddamnit if my happiest, most serene moments of any given day don’t always come when the “rest” of the world is asleep. It’s in these moments that I can’t imagine why I would ever try to deny that fact, that I absolutely prefer to exist in solitary and apart from everyone else. It’s also in these moments that I wonder how to reconcile my antisocial misanthropic isolationism with aspirations towards a more compassionate Buddhist sense of spirituality.

The struggle is real…

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Image by Tim Burton

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A musing on disquiet and simple acts of psychic upheaval

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It occurs to me — over and over again, because I never learn, and usually at the least opportune moments, but I digress — that the primary reason I procrastinate and stall and make excuses and put off trying or fucking doing anything (besides being rooted, as all things are, in Fear) is that I get caught up in the percieved or apparent enormity/entirety of a thing, I overwhelm myself with obsessive monolithic dissection, I let loose the mental patients in my head, and we fucking bathe in the feces encrusted misery of our own paranoid compulsive immersion. The thing becomes an uncontrollable beast in the china shop of my perception before I even have a chance to move.

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Take the act of meditation, for example. On a logical level, I understand and have even experientially witnessed the spiritually, emotionally, and physically healing properties of meditation. I know that practicing zazen would be the first best thing for me to be doing in this time of psychological disquiet and uncertainty. But, I am automatically consumed by the entire Universal scope of the idea of Enlightenment and peace and unity and understanding and nirvana and sublimely perfect cosmic alignment. And so I can’t see the forest for the trees. I am too caught up in obsessiving anxiously over the details of neurotic insignificance and distractifying minutia, and I am blinded to the simple, obvious beauty and wonderfully flawed delicate perfection of each magical moment.

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So, today, an experiment. An exercise in detached observational experience and willful, conscious presence. I read something that, as with all of the most profound truths, seems so obvious now. Meditation doesn’t have to be the ritualistic, solemn, esoteric act of spiritual perfection that I sometimes picture it to be in my muddled mind. The simple act of observing and experiencing one’s thoughts without reaction to them is an act of meditative contemplation. My intention for today is to attempt to allow my thoughts and emotions to flow freely through me, but rather than react to them and allow them to direct my behavior and feelings, I will practice at simply observing these thoughts and emotions, analyzing and attempting to understand them, and in this way perhaps I can arrive at a deeper understanding of myself and my place in these moments.

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And when I inevitably step off and engage and allow myself to become consumed with some neurotically poisonous snowballing wreckage, I must simply acknowledge, reset, and try again! This all seems so simple on paper…or LCD screen, as the case may be.

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A ridiculously short post on an infinitely prodigious topic.

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I think I may have reduced the entirety of my existential crises down to a single, yet powerful, philosophical dilemma: How to reconcile my innate nihilism with my cosmic Buddhism. Is it, indeed, possible to believe in nothing and everything?

We shall see… 🙂

(Perhaps this is a repurposing of sorts.)

Also, it turns out there is a one-man chaos punk band called Nihilist Buddha. Without having yet heard any music, I am already a die-hard fan, because that is fucking brilliant!

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A musing on restlessness and complacency, with Apes of Gloom

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Every time I find myself, I get complacent. And then, of course, parts of me get restless. They wander off again and get lost. This time I want to do a better job of putting me all together and moving forward.

#TimeToChange

“When you realize how perfect everything is you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky.”

– Siddhārta Gautama Buddha

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Spring Festival

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Kung Hei Fat Choy! Yesterday, February 19th on the Western Gregorian calendar, marked the official New Year on the Chinese lunisolar calendar.  In Chinese communities worldwide, the next fifteen days will be filled with celebration, ritual, feasts and family, all centered around the concept of rebirth, regeneration, and renewed prosperity.

The ancient beginnings of this observance and celebration are rooted in the Chinese mythologies of the Nian.  A lion-like beast residing under the sea and in the mountains, the Nian would come out of hiding in the early Spring to feast and forage on villagers, livestock, and crops, his tastes usually suited to small children when possible.  The people of the villages began placing food offerings outside their homes at the beginning of their lunar calendar, in hopes their sacrifices would satiate the beast.

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One year, though, a villager was visited by a god, who told him the Nian’s weaknesses were loud sounds and the color red.  Hoping to keep the beast away entirely, villagers began decorating their homes with red lanterns and spring scrolls, as well as setting off firecrackers as an additional deterrent.  This effectively kept the Nian hidden from humanity and assured the village’s safety, and over time the precautions taken by the people grew into tradition.  In more modern times, this mythology and the Nian itself is represented in celebrations by the dancing lion, a recognizable part of Chinese New Year celebrations even to the uninitiated Westerner.

Celebrations and observances for the turn of the lunar year actually begin nearly a month prior to the actual start of the new year.  The Laba holiday, named for a traditional porridge served in conjunction with this observance, is celebrated on the eighth day of the lunar month prior to the new year.  It is intended as remembrance of an ancient winter solstice festival, and is held in honor of the gods.  For those who practice Buddhism, the Laba holiday coincides with Bodhi Day, which is an observance of the Buddha’s act of selfless ascetism and attainment of enlightenment.

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In the days immediately leading up to the New Year, all members of a family contribute to a thorough cleansing of the home, the intent of which is to sweep away the bad fortune of the previous year and make room for an influx of good luck and prosperity.  This cleansing involves the clearing and immolation of altars and tributes from the previous year, as well as a sending of the gods to report on the family to the Jade Emperor through the burning of effigies.

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The most important event leading up to Chinese New Year, and one that is likened to the Western traditions of Thanksgiving or Christmas, is celebrated on New Years Eve of the lunar calendar, and is known as Nian Ye Fan, the Reunion Dinner.  The dinner, which intends to reunite the entire family, consists of several traditional dishes, including a selection of meats, dumplings symbolic of wealth, and a glutinous cake meant to bring prosperity to the entire family.  Traditionally, families attend temples in the hours leading up to midnight to pray, however, in modern times, it is more customary to hold lavish celebrations with dancing and fireworks.

Immediately after midnight, in the very first hours of the New Year, celebrants first ensure that all malicious spirits and beings are scared away before opening the doors of their homes and selves, both literal and symbolic, to welcome the dieties of the heavens and earth.  Many people, especially Buddhists, fast or otherwise abstain from meat products, and refrain from killing any living thing.  It is also considered bad luck to use a broom, cutting utensils, or fire — so, it’s not only fortunate but in fact necessary that prior day’s celebrations involved large-scale cooking and cleaning.

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It is also customary for elder members of the family to present junior members with red envelopes containing cash and/or gifts of prosperity.  Business leaders often use this occasion to deliver workplace bonuses, as well.  This practice has led to adoption of one of several traditional phrases associated with the New Year’s celebrations: Kung Hei Fat Choy.

The rough translation? “Congratulations and be prosperous, now give me a red envelope!”

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Stay tuned in the coming days and weeks for more information on this colorful, historic, and catalytic holiday observance, and for detail on the specific celebrations and their mythological symbolism over the next fifteen days of Chinese New Year!  Have a personal story about or connection with this holiday, or just some related thoughts to share?  Sound off in the comments!

For a completely unrelated but brilliant blog written by an Asian man, please visit Harsh Reality!  (I really only linked to the Opinionated Man for my own selfish and self-serving reasons, but read his blog anyways. It is really fuckin’ good.)

© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

A Musing on Bad Buddhism

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You know how people claim to associate with a particular faith or spiritual system but behave in a manner that would suggest otherwise?

I hate that.

I am that.

I am a Buddhist.  Even saying that is difficult for the anti-conformist, free-spirited wanderer in me, but in as much as anything is “true” I must say this with veracity: I am a Buddhist.

I strive to truly practice Buddhism, but here is, of course, where things get difficult.  I strive to practice Buddhism almost purely for selfish and self-serving reasons.  In a nutshell, I want a peaceful mind and a peacefulness of Being.  The constant insanity can wear thin on a motherfucker…

But, see, right there? “I want.”

DESIRE.

I’m fucked right from the start!

I self-identify as Buddhist, and strive to become a better Buddhist in practice, because that is the only path towards peacefulness that has ever made sense to me.  The wisdom earned and knowledge emparted by the Buddhist philosophy (or spirituality, or whatever you want to call it, as long as you don’t call it religion) quite literally saved my life, and I feel it will continue to enrich it (if I put in the work).  Buddhism is Life itself, and so there is something about the study and practice of this spirituality that has always felt so innate, so natural to me…

By the way, I’ve made that “saved my life” claim a few times in posts here, and not to worry (all two of you reading along) – I will tell that story. 🙂

Here’s another human mind-fuck hang-up, though.  I am, as the fleshy, Earthly, human bag of meat and calcium deposit we all are, an imperfect being.  I am neurotic and angry and paranoid and antisocial and misanthropic and delusional and anarchistic and scornful and unpredictable and compulsive and vengeful and prone to fits of madness and rage, and all around just a wee bit on the crazy side.

I am constantly, it seems, embroiled in an internal War of the Ages over the very fibers of existence itself.  And I get bored with just fighting myself and all of We and so We like to yank you humans and the rest of Reality into Our bloody insanity mess for a bit of the old “Hey, How Are Ya?!”

What I think I’m trying to say, is, I get off on hating and judging and lashing out against and just generally fucking DEALING on other people.  A lot of this happens exclusively between my synapses, so not to worry too much — though occasionally there is some collateral damage.  Especially if we work in a kitchen together… >:]

Problem is, this isn’t a very Buddhist way to Be.

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Buddhism reveals that we, as subjective manifestations of the Universe itself, are a part of all things and all things are a part of us.  (I am paraphrasing badly here.)  Therefore, I must love all things because I am a part of all things, and all things are a part of me.

This is the point where my human brain cloud comes in and tries to “help.”

It stands to reason that I only have the capacity to love all things insomuch as I love myself, or rather, to the extent that I love myself.  And I can only love myself to the extent that I love all things.  To the extent that I personify love.  I cannot possibly show love for the entirety of Being beyond the capacity for which I myself am capable of loving. Right??

However, if I am the Universe experiencing itself subjectively — as we all are — then I should be capable of experiencing the universal love of all creation, correct?  I should have that universal unlimited capacity…

SHOULD have…

My comfort exists in a place of scorn, loathing, and brooding.  I have become comfortable here because my imperfect, inefficient body and the bitter mechanisms of mental/spiritual illness that exist in that imperfection have become my standard.  My normal.

Thing is, Normal can Change.

It will take time, but I trust my intuition when it tells me that normal can be what you make it.  What you choose.  How you decide to react and proactively approach those elements of Being that are beyond your control.  Because it is ALL beyond our control.  We have only our response.

I can love all things because I know that the hatred and scorn I seem to feel is only an imperfect reaction to an imperfect reality.  That doesn’t mean I have to truly LIKE all things, though…does it?

Fuck brah.  No wonder they tell you to study under a Master.

Next Step: Find a Buddhist Master!  I should also probably sit zazen more.  Everyone should sit zazen more…

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© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Yeah Bitch! Horticulture!!! (Zen and Madness in Yard Work)

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Last night was a rough one, psychotically speaking. It was all I could do not to reformat my cranium as some sort of post-Post-Modern, avant-garde, recessionist-abstract deconstructionist performance piece. Not to disparage the severity of leaden suffering my mind has found fit to absorb in general, of late. Suffice it to say I am now quite certain and markedly convinced that my Crazy Pills are no longer working — something I have, for some time, suspected, but obdurately resisted accepting — which means the next 31 days until my Starving Artist Insurance Plan will cover the scheduled months in advance new patient exam that is required for my establishment on the panel of a primary care provider who can then give me a proper and necessary referral to who I hope will be an eccentrically brilliant, empathetic, slightly neurotic headshrinker slash script writer with a heart of gold are going to be, shall we ambiguously say, interesting. Run-on sentences only hint at the delightfully unpredictable mania to come! But, dem lows, doh…

Knowing that I must bide my time, maintain the Madness, and resist impulses of self-destruction for this objectively short period of time, I’ve tried to make available to my faculties certain therapeutic distractions. One such welcome intercourse has been that oft-dreaded, inexplicably despised facet of supposed “home-ownership”:

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YARD WORK.

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As in all things The Ryan must do, I despise the idea of yard work. However, likewise, once I am able to force myself into the task, I actually fucking LOVE yard work. It provides focus for a brain hell-bent on distraction. It provides activity for a mind/body meat bag prone to lethargy. It provides necessary and welcome physical, mental, and spiritual immersion in nature. It helps stave off the goddamn reliably unpredictable tide of anxious shimmering madness that I am increasingly unable to comfortably surf in flow.

And, occasionally, it results in discovery and intrigue.

CLICK ME! I'm interactive!

CLICK ME! I’m interactive!

There is a vengeful, thorn-bearing foothill paloverde which holds vile dominion over one corner of the front yard. It is a belligerent, malicious, glorified mass of shrubbery from which I removed a bulk of inbred, compacted, endlessly resilient bastardized stems and upstart branches a few days ago, an abomination which I have termed the Stump of DOOM.

CLICK ME! I'm interactive!

CLICK ME! I’m interactive! MORE interactive!

The bitter “fruit” it sprouts dries into these little unassuming pea-pods:

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— which then distribute themselves to all corners of the Earth in an attempt to propagate the ancient foothill paloverde message of scorn. Many of these have attempted to gain strongholds of their own within the isolated, concrete-locked bed which the mother paloverde calls home. Some have, during periods of neglect, found themselves bold and daring, their audacity to exist and to grow resulting in said DOOM-Stump. But, he who trowels last… >:]

Or, so I thought.

CLICK ME! I'm interactive! And a talking fruit!

CLICK ME! I’m interactive! And a talking fruit!

Apparently — and, with the aid of wind, water, chance…perhaps even some willing or unwitting co-conspirator — some of the pods managed to make their way and find root among the radicles of several tangelo trees on the other side of the yard. I discovered today that said flora had sprouted several malicious, mutant branches of thorn and broadleaf. In a moment of megalomaniacal dietiego* I considered allowing them to mature to see what kind of strange and terrible fruit this ghastly union might bear. Fortunately, Fate intervened, shoving my finger sharply into the prickly, blood-thirsty embrace of a thorn. Since the execrable deviant foliage had therefore subsumed my superlative mitochondrial blueprint (it had absorbed by precious blood stuffs!), I was forced to uproot and destroy it for fear of fathering some unwitting creation, some kind of horrific, intelligent, self-aware brand of citrus that would surely uprise and come to enslave and destroy all of mankind. I can’t have that kind of responsibility on my head, man!

BONUS: I found these fellas.

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“…in the sun she warmed her wings, and listened to cicadas sing…” Not to worry, I returned them safely to the Earth. It’s not your time yet, cicadas! Yeah bitch! SCIENCE!!!


* ‘dietego’ – a portmanteau made up of the words “deity” and “ego”; coined in use by © TR Sanders, February 2015


© Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Ryan Scott Sanders and Dharma and Belligerence: Mad Rants from a Free-Range Buddhist Hooligan with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.