"John" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: >1. Krishna never died! . . . snip.....Any great spiritual teacher in the future could possibly be Krishna's incarnation.
Here we go getting deep! Can't hardly look at any concept these days without the ultimate basis of existence suddenly raising its hand and squirming in its seat like a full-of-pee-third-grader-wildly-waving-to-get-a-bathroom-pass. Oooo, oooo, me, me, me pick me! All I had to say was the sacred word: death. And pee-full existence starts missing its nuk in the crib. Urgent whimpering mounts, and existence always seems to want something badly -- like a juggler trying to fit a 15th ball into the cascading stream of spheres above his head. Like an angel trying to squeeze out yet more love for the Godhead by, you know, grunting into it. But, as Nisargadatta said, "Who's accusing me of being alive?" -- genuinely angry as if poop had been tossed on him from the back of the congregation. Icky life. Gordian knot life. "Who'd wanna be a bag-o-blood-and-meat computer? That which is born must die, so get out of the person business will ya?" sez our smoking guru. None of my present spiritual heroes speak of reincarnation with any fondness. I remember when Maharishi first told me, "We're against reincarnation." I laughed aloud. Life: it's what's for break-us-fast, right? More like a curse, right? But, yay, an illusory curse is about as potent as mule sperm. I love to use the "comic strip" analog for this. http://www.duveyoung.com/cartoon_universe.GIF (First published in L.B.'s rag.) In this example, we see a "person" who is quite distraught to learn that his previous incarnations are "still there!" Now, imagine the "person" in the first panel claiming that he's the real person -- and that we should not pay any attention to the guy with the long arm at the end of the comic strip. Every reader of a comic strip knows that the Great Cartoonist is the real person, the one whose words are being "balloon spoken" by the comic characters. We don't really care all that much about the travail of these illusory entities that are as non-living as quarks in the protons in the molecules of ink they're drawn with. And if we cannot really resonate very deeply with a cartoon character, can't really get a passion for "characters civil rights," can't picket Disney with forty protesters outside his house with placards saying, "Mickey must marry Minnie, make her an honest mousewife," -- if we cannot perspire for the inspire-ation of comic entities, well, no wonder, really, right? It's just ink. But take another step towards sentience, and, RATS, we find that we hardly identify with the person we think we are in our nightly dreams -- just wake up, and suddenly, identity evaporates, and the urgency to escape a monster in the dream becomes a delightful dynamic in an amusing story to tell at lunch. How entertaining that in my dream last night I almost died! How little we care for our incarnations, eh? Even the holy ones. Who here is indulging in those sweet memories we all have in our attics in sagging cardboard boxes, who here is sighing over a Sat Yuga scrapbook's prom ticket stubs, fondling a graduation tassel? If one is subtle enough, pure enough, those boxes are available, right? But, oh, heck with yuga-views, put a scratch on my new car's hood, and I'll show you urgency in my identifications! Don't mess with waking life -- that's real, eh? We can point with long arms at waking life and demand that it must be logical and not present us with paradox. But, sigh, we're being just like Mickey on a soapbox yelling in all caps, "MINNIE WILL YOU MARRY ME?," -- just so, asking about incarnations of Krishna gets us straight into Godel's unspeakable truths and falsities. If John wants to believe that Krisna is waiting at the end of John's comic strip with long arms, whew, nice vision!!! It has to be true if God is true, right? If something is possible, God has imagined it already, right? If God is true, then He's already imagined a universe where it is true, and remember, when God imagines, it's like the Star Trek holodeck being told by Picard to "make it so." Somewhere out there, let's see, hmmmm, yep right there -- yep -- right there somewhere out there is this other Edg writing these very same words, only, on one of that Edg's fingernails there's this small spot of schmutz. And that's it. That's the only difference between that Edg and the Edg you're dealing with right now. Now imagine God taking NO TIME AT ALL to imagine up every possible variation of Edg and all the universes that would have to be imagined also so that there would be proper matrices into which such Edgs are imbedded. God just did that. Snap! And while you are reading the period at the end of this sentence, God will do that for you too. We'z been infinitized! Can ya feel it my brethrens and cisterns? So, if John has this vision -- this ability to see this one instantiation of incarnation with such clarity that he wants his whole comic strip to be about his character getting to that last panel's long arm moment, hey, woooo, what a goal! What an artwork! Krishna waiting for us -- beautiful! I wish I had a long distance personality scope -- see myself in any future I pointed at -- know what God already knows, nay, knew before Time crapped in its first diaper. Before Space's first burp. But who has the time to search the possible futures of one's every possibility? Whose arms would not tire holding up that persoscope and scanning for a good life -- you know, like a life without burnt toast anywhere in it, or a life where everyone has a button on their chest like Captain Kirk had -- just tap it, and Uhura-God immediately has the answer. I'd get repetitive injury disorder banging at that button! My persoscope is intuition. Blessed intuition -- I don't know art, but I know what goes with my curtains and couch. I suppose it's possible to have a cosmic intellect that cognizes all worlds in a glance, but lacking that, oh do I lack that, intuition is my way of tossing my dice into the next now. And, if Krishna pulls up in His chariot, horses snorting out billows of incense, and says, "Hey, wanna take a spin? Bring your bow and arrows, I'll drive," whose heart doesn't leap at the thought of it? In each of us, some spiritual teen lurks -- a wild and crazy teen who yells "I've got shotgun" and wants to hit Woodword Avenues on cruise night in Detroit. THAT teen leaps into the chariot without hesitation, right? That's why Adam took the bite. Edg
