[Please excuse these intrusions into a thread … which had a more harmonious three-pointed sing-song quality to it before I reared my lumpy head; …just this one other thing and then back in the cave ~ I’m having Rafiki over for coffee (ooof, the lumps on my head…]
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In my unenlightened opinion, it’s all relative. The King; The Holyman; the Persecutor. What his holiness, The Dalai Lama, iz been in the midst of in exile is what we all, in one way or another-mother are becoming more and more akin too, with subtle and …not so subtle shades of gray separating one kind of exile from another, one kind of oppression from another, one kind of spiritual persecution from another, one kind of chains from another …in the wake of a stranglehold ~~ that another here has been more lyrically conscious of said then you or I, even longer than 'imself, …given blood lines, for a seemingly very long time, is not so hard to recognize. Time...flies. You know something-nothing, I know something-nothing, you have a feeling, I have a feeling, something, nothing, feeling, no feeling, a helix into infinity & it’s not as new as what Tibet has been put through these last few decades; it’s older than that, older than the potato famine, older than Columbus’s darker more ruthless entrepreneurial side, older than the guillotine, older than the vitriol no vitriol that …drives your stout-&-apple-dynamic bass response mechanisms to hold down the beat below the progression that leads to a bar stool notion, …or my jive-dive, or my fathers love-hate relationship with rage that he nurtured until the grave. …I think you know it better than me, geshe, your dharma there my dharma here. The Dalai Lama would oversee excellently, like the fabled King Arthur or The Three Musketeers, but smooth like Jesus or you name the smoothness; & like the moon & the tides in the company of one sunshine that is the only one sunshine; his earth could be in balance, there would be room on the bus for the lot of us…& all our baggage ~~ in space not equal but roomy enough for each of our own personal stands/walks; we all take up differing space, no? Talk, talk. But this love has been blasted by something far more willing to quash everything for sake of nothing remotely precious. & so be the experiment. God, no God; god, no god; light, no light; earth, no earth, water, no water, air, no air, ...space, no space…......
the sound of one hand bowing sound, no sound
[ohhh, what a lota whoeeee riffage …sheesh …take a powder, Bruce! …Okay: fresh ground coffee beanjuice….] 
