Psychotherapy, or should I just stick my head up my arse?

I'm sorry but I've had it with all that bollocks, not that I know anything about it, or have ever been anywhere near it, which I am sure you will agree, makes me eminently qualified to write on the subject. Around us they have something called buddhist psychotherapy - someone should tell them that what the Buddha was on about was getting beyond your mind, not messing about in it.

I was chatting to a girl the other day and she was telling me most of what she was having to deal with was caused in the womb, at her birth, and during the first three years of her life. As usual with all these therapies, you have to get worse before you get better, which is quite handy really, especially if you happen to be the therapist charging how ever many bucks a session to encourage someone to talk a load of bollocks.

What I want to know is this, why, if you are feeling bad, would you want to go and start digging around in a pile of shit (your mind) and make yourself feel worse. And just in case you haven't realised, here's a little bit of information I'll give you for free - your mind has no end, it's a can of worms, undo one knot and there is another - that is not a great place to go to feel good. Far better I would say, find something that makes you feel good, and that takes your focus away from your mind, and frees you up from it.

So you know me, or maybe you don't, but I would never slag something off without giving some practical alternative, so here it is. One thing you could try is go and have a good shag. That sometimes helps. But if you can't do that, or if you truly want to be really free, then find the energy that keeps you alive - that will make you feel good, guaranteed!

Scary Moments with Lesbians - No14, an occasional series

Don't get me wrong, I actually like lesbians, I've got loads of pictures of them upstairs (ok, I borrowed that joke from my friend, it's funny isn't it!).
Now the thing is for most of my life I have lived out in the country. While I am looking at the flowers in the hedgerows, all sorts of important modern cultural developments completely pass me by. For example, I remember the exact moment when I realised that Mr Plod wasn't just a really nice chap who was there to keep me safe from baddies and tell me the way to some place when I'm lost. One day the plods came round to our place searching for drugs, ransacked the whole house and generally tried to drive us out of town - I know I was only a kid but I was truly shocked - I was and still am sooooooo naive about stuff like that.
Anyway, back to the lesbians. I was in love with a girl who was an art student in Bath and, desperate to see her, I was hitching a ride to the westcountry. This big old Transit van pulled up, the passenger door opened, a girl got out and I jumped in the back. The floor in the back of the van was covered with mattresses and there was a young kid in there, so I just started talking to her about her toys and it all seemed fine. Then I started to listen to the conversation that was going on up front - my oh my, I'd never heard anything like it before in my life. These two girls so hated men it wasn't true. I started to realise that the way that I viewed girls was just so completely BAD I was gonna be lucky to get out of this van alive.
And then they started to grill me, and I was so scared... I tried my best to let them know that first and foremost I viewed everyone as a human being, but they seemed to just know, and proceed to tell me, that the way I was looking at women was politically totally unacceptable. Oh my, oh my, I was in the shit, trapped in the back of van and being terrorised by two extremely militant man-hating lesbians.
Well, I am quite lucky in a way, in that I am quite good at smarming my way out of difficult situations, and after a while I managed to charm my way into their well buried hearts. They pulled over in this big layby and let me go. There was a little van there selling refreshments so I got myself a coffee, sat down under a tree, got my tobacco out and had a smoke. A few minutes later I was ready to face the world again. Phew, that was close!!!!

The Art of Living - part 16

Well the thing is, I do give this a lot of thought, so fair do's I'm gonna write about it. Of course I realise, as my good friend Vicus has pointed out to me on more than one occasion, if you want to get plenty of comments, sex, tits and arses is definitely the way to go. Lists of things sometimes work well too!
But the path of compromise is not for me - I will not shy away from the important fact that we are alive, just to make a successful blog. So here are a few tips I have picked up along the way - try some of them out if you like and see how it goes, but don't blame me if you end up a miserable cynic, alone at your keyboard in a darkened room.

So here is my list.
1) Don't interfere in other peoples lives, and in return expect them not to interfere in yours.
2) Eat good healthy food, preferably organic.
3) Always say nice things to girls - they love it.
4) Try not to worry about money - it comes and goes, and it is not the source of happiness.
5) Live now, if you can.
6) Don't get caught up in all that bollocks about pensions.
7) Mute all adverts and despise famous people who advertise tacky supermarkets.
8) Try not to give a fuck what people think of you.
9) Make feeling good within yourself your priority.
10) Don't take advice from old hippies.

This list was compiled with virtually no thought whatsoever, and comes with no guarantees.

The Art of Dying - Part 2

Many many years ago I read this book about an Indian saint. The one thing I remember is that this saint was so desperate to understand what his life was about, that he decided he would rule out everything it wasn't about, and see what was left after that. He used to wander around saying, 'Neti, neti' (not this, not this). So for example, he would come across something in the world that promised him some satisfaction and he would either do it, or think about it, and decide, no, that's not it, and then he would move onto the next thing.

I never really forgot about that book, or to be more accurate, my memory of it.

Several years later I was working as a builder on a big project turning a house into a hotel. As it turned out the guy who owned the place had a heart attack and died while we were working there. As he lay dying his last words were 'Don't forget to tell Brian about the vent axia'.

Now, that's what I'm talking about here - how everything in life is relative. Just how important was the vent axia? For me, I've never been able to make it that important, because I know in the end the vent axia is neither here nor there. And that is what I mean when I say maybe there is some value in practising the art of dying. Get ready cos it's coming - that moment when the truth dawns will arrive. Neti neti will stare us in the face.

* * *

This morning I was sitting down as I usually do, and observing the thought patterns going through my mind. I could see that I had a choice to pursue those thoughts, or abandon them. One topic after another came into my mind, and each time I did my best to leave it behind. Beyond those thoughts is nothing.

Nothing matters - nothing ever happens - nothing is forever - It feels good!

PS - no drugs were used before or during the writing of this post.
PPS - if you are living your life for the afterlife, this post won't make any sense whatsoever. Sorry!