Thanks for taking the time to post this excellent moment. It reminds me of the old story:
Guy walks into a church and goes into the confessional. He says " Father, I am 60 years old and I have been carrying on an affair with a gorgeous woman who is young enough to be my granddaughter. We have passionate sex four times a day." The priest asks " How long has it been since your last confession?" The man answers, "I have never been to confession before." The priest asks him, "Why not?". "Because I am not Catholic." he replies. The priest asks him "Then why are you telling me this story?" "I'm not just telling you, I'm telling EVERYBODY!" BTW when you are done living my life I would like it back Turq! --- In [email protected], TurquoiseB <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > > As many of you know, I live in a small French village > that saw its heyday in the 12th and 13th centuries. > It's now got all the modern conveniences, including > 8 Mbps Internet that really measures closes to 7 Mbps. > So I'm sitting there working on the Internet last > night and there's a big explosion outside and I look > out my window to see the transformer that routes elec- > tricity to our village go up in flames, just about > the time the lights clicked out. Here, for those > who are interested, is what a weird Tantric Buddhist > does in such a situation: > > * First I got up and lit a bunch of candles in my > house, smiling inwardly at those friends who had > laughed in the past at my candle fetish. I have > something like forty candlesticks in my house, > most of them of the wrought-iron medieval variety. > Hah!, thought I. Who's laughing now? > > * Then I lit a fire in the fireplace, both for light > and for heat (my heating is electric). > > * Finally, when the house was warm and cheery, I went > out with a flashlight to see if the whole village > was blacked out. It was, including the street lamps. > Seeing the opportunity for a really FUN experience > here, I scrounged around and made myself a torch > out of a stick and some rags, and wandered through > the streets for a while, seeing it as it was literally > designed to be seen, by firelight. Too cool to even > begin to describe. > > * After about an hour I wandered back towards my house > and noticed that a number of my neighbors, who had > the same faith in the efficiency of the EDF (power > company) as I did, were preparing for a long night > without electricity by having a party in Place > Astruc. The proprietor of the Comptoir de Singe > rolled out a big barbeque pit and lit a fire, and > put on a big pot of mulled wine, which he passed > around to everyone for free. Several of the local > musicians brought out their guitars, accordions, > violins, and drums and started making music. Some > young people danced. Hell...even some of the old > people danced. > > * At a certain point I started talking to a young > Irish tourist. She was out with the crowd because > (she said) her room at the Gite had no windows, > the Gite owner had no candles, and she was afraid > of the dark. So we danced for a while and talked > for another while and finally I invited her back > to my house, to get her some candles. Even though > she was attractive, she was also young enough to > be my granddaughter, so I really didn't have much > in mind other than giving her the candles. > > * She took one look at my place and flipped. Suffice > it to say my house is decorated in an eclectic > manner -- real Tibetan and Japanese art from the > 12th through the 18th centuries next to real Art > Nouveau next to modern art next to racks of computers > and TV equipment next to my collection of Plastic > Jesuses (or is that Jesi?) next to my stuffed Wile E. > Coyote and figurines of him chasing the Roadrunner, > the floors covered with Navajo and Pueblo Indian > rugs. It all looked quite smashing by candlelight. > > * So we sat in front of the fire and drank wine and > talked for hours. It turns out that her family line > was started by an Irish Catholic monk who got tired > of living in a cold monastery and denying himself > the things his neighbors enjoyed, and decided to > shack up instead with a sweet young thing from the > village, raising ruckus and a passle of kids. One > of my ancestors did exactly the same thing in > Scotland. We watched 'The Name of the Rose' on > my laptop until its little batteries gave out. > Providentially, they lasted just long enough to > get us to the scene where the young monk Adso is > seduced by the young peasant girl. It's a fairly > hot scene, and after watching it, she was a fairly > hot young Irish girl. Life is good sometimes. > > It's easy to focus on the light *in* the light. It's > sometimes more of a challenge to find light in the > darkness, but that's what makes the Tantric path > so much fun. >
