DOING THE GOOD THING
As I subtly — or not so subtly — change my modus operandi through Life the past week, I’ve noticed startling changes of what some may term ‘serendipity.’
But I know better. It ain’t serendipity kids. It’s number one: getting into “a meditative state of MIND,“ as Sadhguru, would phrase it.
Sadhguru laughed when an interviewer asked him about “meditation.” “Meditation, schmeditation,” he essentially opined. “People have mastered the art of sleeping in a sitting position.” Ha ha. . . .
After my morning meditstive state of mind for thirty minutes, I ate better: that is , I fasted thirteen or sixteen hours. I walked, rode, drove through life in this stupid town with no anger or judgment of the manifold fools and their stupid vehicles. I simply let them be, as a license plate of a rich MD read: “LETITBE.”
Coupled with the above early morning meditative state of MIND, marvelous stuff came to me. Came.
Details of a vietnamese beauty, a tall mother of one or two boys. I’ve watched her from my window as she came to pick up her four year-old. Or vice versa. She is my type. Southeast Asian, tall, slender but not the skin and bones darkies my pal likes. This woman has just enough round to the pound to appeal to my tastes.
I no longer stomach american women for the most part. Tatoos? Please! gross me right the hell out.
Nose rings? . . . REALLY?!
shredded jeans or high school iqs .What is going on between these chicks’s ears? Oh: NOTHING! I get it. Air heads, as we used to call the typical blondies. I mean REALLY. . . !
Enough.
So where and how did this “My Style-Woman” come into my life? How is it that the lamest drug dealers former next door neighbors had the police called on ’em at 0100, and shortly thereafter were in their sick three week-process of going away into the smoky haze of their sick drugs. And sicker money. Yippee!
after a week I see many Vietnamese moving their grandparents in. Triple YIPPEE! I cannot express how happy I am.
I ushered them all into my humble abode to show off my Tibetan Buddhist stuffs. Yes.
And the connections of serendipity began to roll. I return from a walk to consult with my present knee doc wearing my Stetson to see gramps and grandson out walking. I say I have my phone with me and ask to take pics of the kid in my big ole hat. Got three good shots.
Walk on.
Knowing I’d get then photographs to the mom soon enough. Later that evening I go out to the car for the phone I forgot there. Who do I see but Mom coming home after work and picking up her shy son to head home. We had never met. I ask her to roll down her window and explain that I have a few photos of her boy in a Stetson. I show Mama the pics of her son in the Ka-Boy lid. She loves ’em. I say they’ll be valued twenty or fifty years from now. Her comment upon seeing them: “Cool.”
Then she is asking typical out front questions of a Vietnamese, or Thai, or Southeast Asian women, as far as I know: “How long have you lived here?” Are you alone? No wife? Girlfriend?
Hmm, I think. Cool. Very cool.
Now to discover how corrupt this beauty is. I mean, she’s just my type. Where is the negative? You know she ain’t perfect.
River Swim
what do I mean by river swim. I mean it’s a natural swim. There ain’t no chlorine or fat blobs in a current pool cackling like a bunch of birds with their heads severed. ya know? Of course you do.
I have real troubles with the obese blobs of the USA. A woman put it best. She said: “you know what the problem is with these [slobs]?”
No.
It’s the fact that you and I are going to foot their medical bills. Let’s say you and I pay $15,000 a year as our medical costs for the year. Those pigs’s bills total $35,000.
These are non professional CPA accountant-figures. No reality to them except for the ratio. The drift. The idea. Capiche?
Perfect People
I just spent an hour on a tremendous zoom call with participants being members of my Class of 1971 at Hobart and William Smith Colleges, one of the top hundred schools in the country. And these khats, male and female, were indeed perfect.
One, a former roomie, who became an MD now practicing in Spokane, where I just so happened to go to Law School at Gonzaga University, one of the top baseball and basketball schools in the States. I studied law for twelve months and then sold real estate and worked in a bike shop the next year.
Another khat, a female I never knew, became a DOM, Doc of Chinese Medicine.
And another Dude is Bill, a Beautiful Black man who taught school some, was in retail sales, before settling in as a Financial Consultant where he practices his art and biz as we speak / as I write.
Why I mention this 50th reunion style zoom call is because after it ended with a group of say fifteen of us, I walked away from my com muttering, “WOW!” WOW!. . . Wow. . . .”
These fellow alums are populis especiale. Special people. Perfect people. Be they an amurikin-style doctor, or a Chinese medicine doctor, or a writer. Or a woman who looked like a druggie. We all made successes of our lives to one style or another. I, for one, have no money to speak of. But my life is perfect. Why? Because my Dearest sister helps me out financially. And I help myself out physically, mentally, emotionally.
I mean, I know what really matters in our short sweet lives.
Do you?